D.E.G.

Death is a promise
Ignorance is a sin
Red blood is a soul

Eternity will fade
Night will come

Ghost of this dream
Rediscover this past
End this nightmare
You alone can feel this presence.

*For Dir En Grey*

Hospital Waiting Room - Setting *flashbacks*

White, cold, silent not a happy setting, yet there in that palace of life and death I wait. Not for the birth of a child or the death of an elder. No instead I wait for what could be the announcement of imprisonment for one I never trusted. *Blood, sirens, terror, screams, a knife* Sympathetic eyes look through me as I watch the police and doctors talk. I am silent, chills creep cowardly up my spine. *Green fields, laughter, love, bliss, beauty* Overlooked in the bustle of the E.R. I wait for her to come back out and laugh for me once again. Stretchers rush past. . .a car accident. The past how did I outrun it? *Dark, night, blanket, fear, a spider* People passing cower and walk faster, they sense my impatience. Time crawls past or so it seems for there is no time in my haunted world of Purgatory. *Friend, sister, mother, knife, field, spider*

Different Worlds

You were there beautiful, talented causing mischief. Time came, time went yet always you portrayed freedom. Haunting eyes captured the moment of your flight. Pain filled an empty chasm as you retreated to the shadows. No fear, no guilt, no love, no happiness. . .there is no emotion. Life is void of meaning since your escape to the new realm. Your arrival celebrated by all, you've returned to our sanctuary at last. Speeches, balls, and late nights fill your life. In rest I see tranquility; you have no worries, no fake smiles, no horrors of life, you are free. How life caused your freedom to be diminished. The dust hides the truth. Shy smiles hide behind submission. Love is doused by ashes. You don't see me, yet how could you? We live separate lives. We live in separate worlds. We live in a castle.
~Reikan~

fess up

the lies. the secrets. the truth. it fallows you. it sits on your shoulders. you know you have to confess. but you cant. you just cant. you believe that god will never forgive you. ever. as you drop to your knees, your sprit is crushed. there is nothing you can do about it. you know you dont deserve to be here. you know you are the worst person in the world. tears overwhelm your face your face. you turn pale, your eyes and you cheeks a bright red. as soon as you stop crying you begin to cry again. you cant stop. the make up from your eyes, is streaming down your face, just as if you got into a fight. your heart pounds harder every time they get closer to the truth, you feel like you are going to puke, you cant hold in your lies or your secrets. the truth has to come out. you choke on your words confessing the madness that you have created. your confessions. the last words you speak.

"Listen"

It weighs me down
He asks whats wrong
I try not to say
He pushes me; I tell him
He burdens himself
He tries to solve the problems
I see it hurt him yet he will not stop
I don't want him to take my burdens upon himself
How do I save him without destroying myself
I want to help him yet he never lets me
I try to listen but he asks me questions
How do I not answer
He is logical yet stubborn
I tell him but he never tells me
He is my best friend but he can't see why I want to help him
Others agree he burdens himself needlessly
How do I protect him from my harsh world
He calls me "Guide" but how do you guide one who won't follow
I want to save him from my insanity
I want to listen to him.

*Inspired by Geoff-Geoff*

I AM

I am 5 and a half and not 5
I am the moment before your eyes
I am the birds flying
I am the buffalo roaming
I am the glowing fireflies
I am the rocket ship exploding
I am the the fountain overflowing
I am the flame in a dance
I am the Indian in a trance
I am the battle call, the ancient war cry
I am the fateful goodbye
I am the I am the morning light
I am the screaming streaks of fright
I am the tears of fears
I am the gasping of air
I am the exhaling of trees
I am the mind at ease
I am the smoke in the breeze
I am the start of something new
I am the vision that are now in sight
I am the memories of what was
I am the hope of what is to be
I am the clarity of confusion
I am the worrior that is fearless
I am the beggining of an end.

what's in a name

Classy, yet more farm girlish. Easy to say, hard to spell. Named after my great great aunt. It’s my mom’s Def Leppard cd playing, her James Dean poster in her college dorm room, the clay figures, and finger paintings. It’s the sound of my dad’s welder and the smell of his smoker, it is his can of chew sitting in the middle of the dashboard, it’s the oil for tuning the cars. It goes perfect with my sisters name on our Christmas cards; “Merry Christmas, from the Ballews, Mark, Jodi, Maegan, and Amanda”. When said in anger and rage, it turns red, as if my entire name could be one word. When said in praise it simply turns a brilliant white. It’s the sounds of a rumbling car down the street, or a machine being operated on in a maintenance shop. Maegan, pronounced just like it looks, Mae-gan, simple. The only sweet part is my last name, Ballew. It’s a color, a bear, and a cat, sweet I know. My grandfather uses it as an excuse, and my dad uses it as if it were an action word like running or jumping. That or you can call me Sister Mary Clarence.

These tears form, but I won't cry

This pain tears at me, makes me want to hate you, gives me that lump in my throat that I recognize and now I know what's coming. All those memories of our childhood together - we never could get along. I stole your spotlight, like mom says. I'm sorry. Isn't that enough? I grew up not in your shadow, but under your foot, stepped on and hated, like mud on new tennis shoes. We had a love-hate relationship: I loved you and you hated me. Oh, how we fought. You'd think we were going to kill eachother, what with the bloody noses, black eyes, and kicking you where it counts. I swear I never meant to. And then you left me. Just up and left. I understand, yeah, I get it. You had to get away because you were too far gone. Going the wrong direction. In deep "crap." Okay, fine. All I saw was you walking out the door and then I'm gone, running away so that I'm the one leaving, not you. No. You're not abandoning me. You'll come back. No? There's this hole that started forming inside of me, kept getting bigger and bigger like when you gauged your ears. Just kept growing. How long until we talked again? A month, maybe two? How about a year, three months, and five days. I couldn't forgive you. You left me. And now what? I'm a senior and you haven't been here for a single dance, a date, even to hide those dozen roses left on the porch because you're being protective. It's time I can't recover. It's time I want back. I don't even know you anymore. Now I'm your baby sister that you love and you're jealous that my boyfriend spends more time with me in one month than you have the past six years? I say I'm over it and I want to see you, just to talk. But what do you say to somebody you don't know? I miss you....

when i look at myself i'm paper

paper thin. comes in contact with an assortment of things. they write all over it. all over me. put their ideas, their beliefs, their thoughts into my head. when they're done they sign their name. mark their seal of approval and move on to the next victim. forget what they've left behind. forget who they've altered. who they've changed forever. another one comes along. erases the marks that may remain. turns me back into a blank slate. now i'm nothing. no thoughts, opinions, nothing to look at, nothing thats interesting. some one else dangerously approaches, i shy away... afraid of whats to come, who i'll become next. but they're stronger. stronger than this frail sickly being who can't find her voice. not able to just screech ENOUGH. i've had it. i want my own mind. i don't want to be transparent. i don't want to be erased. rewritten until supposedly made perfect. but i am. i'm paper.

five hundred words to get there...

half the day is gone, he is determined to do this, this one last thing before he must go, leave this earth, leave her forever. he cant find the words to tell her, why he is leaving, the sadness he carrys on his heart. to her, he never seemed unhappy, those blue-berry eyes always staring at her, no matter what, the smile that could light up the darkest of nights. his last five hundred words, beating around the bush, trying to tell her everything running through his mind. "sorry baby girl", four hundred and counting. "tell me why", a raging waterfal of tears overwhelms her face. she blames herself, every mistake, every fight, three hundred and counting, two hundered. he leaves, she doesnt yet say good-bye, she cant bring herself to the horrible truth. his last words, "baby girl, i love you". driving to check on him, no one home, no one in sight, but she sees the car, oh that car, so many memories, late night rides, water gun fights. one more place to check, there he is. there he is. her knees hit the pavement like a hammer driving a nail. all she has left is the memories.

Letter

I watched as you walked away, the tears betrayed my mind. How did I ever fight you? You held my heart in the palm of your hand. I lost the battle, I let you claim me as yours. I knew I would never have your heart yet I gave mine freely. I made a mistake and paid for it. How did you win a battle that never even began? Why did I let you walk away? Why did I cry tears I knew wouldn't bring you back? Why do I write a letter you will never read? Why do I feel a flame re-kindling when you doused it? Why did I let you in, when I knew I would watch you walk away?

~My questions unanswered~

Reikan

Dont Scream, Emo Kid! or Don't Scream Emo Kid

Don't scream emo kid
about the words that just fell from your head that I was only try'n to talk about not toss em out and make you say I don't take constructive criticism well in public and I laughed and shivered inside cuz my words about your words made words come out of your mouth to stop me from changin your emotions and I never saw the internal commotion comin cuz I'm just the first responder to words versus emo kid collisions. I can't sew my thoughts to your words unless I have permission So this collision I leave alone as I leave alone and wander home and think about my collision with your beautiful fragility. I assumed (ass) you trusted me and maybe you (amazing) will and maybe your hair hangs in your face for a reason I ain't see'n and it's ironic how your wispy bangs make me blind and if emo means you feel and love and care and flush red with emotion then I am emo and I do scream and I scream to you and with you and at you and we all feel the feelings of the wheel at once and it's a rush to be alive.

Your words splashed on me

the Room

where everything thats anything is thrown out the window
where all thats left isnt whos who but who can express
where all our heartaches dont vanish but are announced
where the paper is our refuge and the pen (not pencil) is our sword
where we connect through our words not through our actions
where we try to change the lives of those sitting in rickety desks nearby
where we do change the lives of those nearby but never seem to notice
where we become humans
with tears
with anger
with stomach aching laughter
where we learn to kick a**

My Dearest Peaches,

I long to see your beatiful figure. Your eyes are but brightly colored planets in the darkness that is my heart. I crave you flowing locks of blonde bueaty more than ever now. My dreams are fantasies of us under the moonlite sky spending an eternity together. Oh peaches, my sweet peaches, when I bite into you I just want more. Your fuzzy exterior that makes me all warm inside. Juices flowing and tasting of pure exstasy in my mouth. So much it's hard to swallow, and not want another bite. My longing for you is making me crazy, come home to me my sweet daisy. Without you my soal is filled with dark coal. Please come back to me and light that candle, because the butterflies in my stomach are to much to handle. That taste gives me a tingle, even more than when we dress up and you call me Chris Cringle. Im enfatuated with your pits, and if you don't come home soon it will be tough to stop throwing these fits. At night as I lay awake I think about you and you orangish glow, waiting for you to come home so we can put on a show.

Yours Forever,
Chris Cringle

Quote of the Month
"You would think after 3 years they would have paper with them but no, no paper only visine."

I wish you could all see...

the smile on my face right now. I love all your writing. I'm inspired. All the thoughts that have settled in my head will soon make their way to paper...

simply life

Playing footsie with you. Seeing and smiling and giggling like a little girl. Poking and tickling and holding hands. Talking mushy and flirting like shy little fourth-graders, gazing into the sunset over mountains and green hillsides with purple flowers and yellow daisies. Beautiful flowing dresses and formal tuxes, dancing nights away and sleeping in til 12. Boyfriends and girlfriends and little kiddies telling you how you look. Asian food and stomach aches, the heat of all the bodies rising like the sun. Blue skies and yellow-red-orange leaves falling, drifting downwards, pulled by gravity and pushed by the wind. Barbeques and making apple crisps, Sunday dinners with ice cream and cookies. Piano movers and clang-clanging of the keys and the sing-song of a rhythmic melody. Free-style ballet dancers and nannies taking you to Coney Island a week before it opens. Little conversations of 3-year-olds that make you smile and amaze you because they're so smart. Cousins and brothers and sisters and camping in a not-so-camping atmosphere. Riding the rtd and going to baseball games with the best friends you never knew you had. Living life and loving yourself.

when push comes to shove

I do not know if I will ever find the courage in this life to give voice to these many thoughts and ideas which swirl around in my mind like so many thousands of pebbles on a beach being kicked and moved and changed. For every tear you cry in a lifetime, there will be a smile and a happy day to counteract and erase it. Every time you hear somebody say It's never going to get better, know in your heart and soul that it will, it must. If your glass is always half full, there will be more to drink and some left over for your neighbor. Should you choose for your glass to be half empty, chances are, you will die of thirst like you were in the desert with great pools of water all around but from which you refuse to drink because you cannot move from that place where you are comfortable, safe. Take risks, get hurt, and try again. Failure comes not from falling down, but from staying down. It's okay to cry, but cry those bittersweet tears knowing that you will one day conquer the world. Spend more time with yourself, get to know you so that when you are challenged by somebody who does not know you; does not know themselves, you will be the one to call a bluff and than you will never doubt you. You are you and the only thing that can and will ever change that is you.

"Goddess"

The dreamers dream
The singers sing
The cowboys roam
But what do I do
I do everything for I am
the Goddess who shows you the way.

How do I....

I don't know where to start, I'm not sure how this goes, so maybe just...hello? Hello there and how are you? and all the other small talk that people do. Well it seems we're past that now, so what to do, do I tell you how I'm in love with you? Or is it too soon, would you be scared? If I don't tell you am I lying? To myself, maybe, just not to tell but I guess it's okay because I wouldn't want to chase you away with these words and thoughts that swirl through my head like a whirlwind that never ceases, never ends. Day and night I think of you, not in a weird or crazy way but maybe would it seem like that to you? I only want to see your smile, smell your cologne, try to describe all the colors and emotions that cascade through your eyes those eyes that show me your soul, betray your words of maybe this and probably that and I'm not sure but maybe not. I could sit next to you and be content, and maybe? just maybe we could hold hands. Not just for now but for tomorrow and the next tomorrow and every one to come, could you be with me? Or would you only see what I am not and who you wish I could be? Will I fade away like an old snapshot of someone who once was but now has moved on? Do these questions and wonderings make me seem so insecure that you're not sure if I'm what you want because maybe I wouldn't ask if you would only tell. Or show. Show and tell. Like that famous day in kindergarten when everyone ooh's and aah's and you feel like the coolest kid around like you've had your 5 minutes of fame, and the world can't take it away. You can't take away how I want to hold you, know you, love you. Are we fading away? I'm not sure now what to do, so maybe, again.....hello?

Love is...

this is a poem that i had published two years ago.

Love is... Looking into a person's eyes and seeing their soul,
Longing to talk with them to take away the pain,
Offering them your everything, hoping they'll understand,
Wishing for that day, clinging to the few hopes that still remain.

And love is…
Wanting nothing but the best for them,
And crying yourself to sleep knowing it might not be,
Longing to open wide your heart to them,
In hopes that one day they'll understand and see.

Love is...
Those words you whisper as you lay yourself to sleep,
And smiling as you think of them, knowing they're by your side,
Those lonely tears that fall from your eyes,
Knowing there is no longer anywhere to hide.

And Love is…
Confessing every feeling that lays buried deep within,
And fully knowing no words could describe how you truly feel,
The pain and hurt you feel, knowing it means nothing,
To you, these deep emotions I hold, will never truly be real.

Love is…
Willing to give all you have for one small chance
Staking your life on its uncertainty,
Laying your heart open freely before their searching eyes,
Loosing this deep powerful feelings ...letting your soul free.

Shut Up & Write

I'm excited to begin this next step in writing. Take time to explore and read some of the writing by previous writers. You can post fiction, non fiction, poetry, journal entries, thinking on the page, artwork, opinion writing, lyrics, prose, and comments. Avoid posting about religion, politics, illegal behavior, and anything you wouldn't share with your mom, dad, or police. Don't post links or ask for feedback on your writing. Your peers will give you feedback as they wish. Don't come here for validation. Come here to express yourself and explore the ideas of your peers. Challenge yourself. Use big words. Use shiny words. Be bold. We can write about anything in a tactful way (except the above mentioned). Write about your experiences, your passion, your fears, love, friendship, society, and the countless other cool topics.

Shut Up & Write

Lloyd

Senior pic

Pensive & wistful

For all the Leybas out there!!!

" I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs, and I will shout it from the rooftops. To put it another way, they're like dandelions. If your have one on your lawn, it looks pretty and unique. If you fail to root it out, however, you find five the next day... fifty the day after that... and then, my brothers and sisters, your lawn is totaly, completely, and profligately covered with dandelions. By then you see them for the weeds they really are, but by then it's-- GASP-- too late."

---Your homie Stephen King

It's been a while

I just want to say that this class was the funnest writing class i've had.

Where my peeps at?

Like I said... where my peeps at!? I need some writing entertainment... some creative, soul touching writing man. Essays are getting old. Even though, I admit, some are good.

Stalking my memory

His soft mutter
screamed uncertainty in my ears,
Despite his unobtrusive tone.
Startled by my stare,
his legs crossed paths of confusion out the door.

Gawking at his cheap rubber shoes,
Invaded my conscience with tar.
The cloudy image of
His tousled brown hair,
Revealing only his painful eyes.
Twisting reality for sympathy,
Alleviating tension
By placing
Our hearts and his swords between our spoken word.
Flattery was his intent,
Though nailed me with sorrow.
Puzzled and distressed,
Humans wore masks,
And I was complete
With everything …
He lacked.
And his internal attack,
Punctured my guilt.
My kind words and nods,
Slaughtered his
Last hope.

… his mutter reminded me,
To remember -means you forgot.
Though he stuck with me
Because I never could relate to his pain.

CaitlynCaitlynCaitlyn

CaitlynCaitlynCaitlynCaitlynCaitlynCaitlyn
LeybaDumbLeybaDumbLeybaDumb
SoSorrySoSorrySoSorry
ShameSadShameSad
NeverAgainEver
ISwear
Sigh
I

BooksCoffeePens

I left some title ideas under Molly's post. How much time has to pass before you guys stop calling me Leyba?

Any books?

Leyba, Caitlyn, Sara (Leah I talk to you all the time... I'll ask in person)

Have any of you read any great books lately? I have not had the time to read lately (damn work...) but I finally picked up a book I started in February on vacation. It's been a while- but I would like to start reading a lot again, I miss it. Any reccomendations?

My pen is dusty

Hey. I'm so pleased to find you writing here. Man, I love that. I'm not surprised at all to see who is writing and reading here. I love you people. VanZant, sell everything you own and buy paper. Caitlin, I feel like a stalker when I read your words. Molly, you dress secrets in sheer clothing. Leah, show em what you got! I'm reading but not writing much and I am motivated after reading you guys. Shut up and write.

lloyd

no name game

She asked if we've all felt the knocking urge
to shed off our concerns
and reveal our spirit.
We all want to,
There is no need to wait.
Stand up and dance.
Now is our time.
But this girl remained nailed to her seat,
dissimilar to the crowd
because she knew the ones who danced,
stood in twos for a reason,
and those who need to release the poison of uncertainty,
sit and shave off their intentions,
perpetuating the tradition of conformity,
while pounding on their tattered souls,
by simply sitting down.
While the guy in green races around,
dancing his spirit into seizures,
because he loves the adrenaline;
The people dancing in twos
do not lend him one eye.
And the girl sits while her mind is dancing
around her missing identity.
She wanted to dance solo,
but her thoughts drowned the song.
Thinking is her addiction.

Thinking Tree
Lloyd Dobler

Finn's
Lloyd Dobler

Will you sign my annual?

Dear Graduates,
without you I'm not a teacher. I need students to be a teacher. Now, I just work room security with my freshman for two weeks. I am leaving this BLOG up forever, four-ever-4-e-v-e-r! Shut up and write.
Love Lloyd

Finn's Day
My tree
follow

Jenn baby you're not alone

This is a depressing one I wrote a few months ago. Gross.

I function from my heart beat,
Though it chokes when I hurt.
I grasp for comfort,
Knowing otherwise I lost control.
It bleeds red, black, and rust,
Though never loses supply.
I need fresh air,
My body needs a cleanse,
Of all the manipulation and knots
I hold in my chest, my gut, my head,
Of all the things you’ve turned on me.
You always say its me.
But I’m stuck in a cycle,
Its no longer you,
But my fear of my future.
I don’t want to be happy,
I want to stay here.
One more fall will break me down,
After all I’ve been through.
No longer can I try to lift,
The burden I received from you.
Instead I gave up, and I will waste away
In this cycle.

Amazing how much changes in a few short months. Geez.

Oh goodness .. One last tear jerker from the queen of depressing. woohoo

Im sick off my own drugs
And life hurts in a silly sort of way
Why does love come in pretty bottles
Were all thirsty for freedom.

Trapped in a world we fall together
all of us broken and used
but we lay comfortable untouchable
Lay underneath my misery

Let me place it on your shoulders
Cause it wont leave me be
and i haven't eaten today
Im not worthy

My stomach is sick
From the life all that Ive felt
I hate feeling
Ill probably stop doing that.


want to hear another sad story
The sad girl writes it all
She doesn't want to know what's wrong with her
She just wants to be wrong

memoir woot woot!

It was the fifth grade, in the first weeks of school. That summer it had been brought to my attention that I had grown…but not in a good way. I had been transformed from the stick child that used to terrorize the neighborhood with his best friends, to a slightly taller, more round child who still shared the same traits as before, but that is hard to explain to the minds of other 10-year-old children. Each Mulvany hits this stage, just before puberty. We gain weight, mostly in our stomachs and face, which is very noticeable when just weeks prior I was able to hid myself behind a light post in a game of hide and go seek. What made this period hard in my life was that before this situation, I had always thought I was lucky to fall into the group of friends I did coming into elementary school not knowing a single kid from my neighborhood. I had gone to a different pre-school and kindergarten and when first grade rolled around at Governors Ranch Elementary, I didn’t know a soul. The kids who took me into their group the first day of school, who invited me to sleepovers and birthday parties, taught me swear words, and introduced me to my favorite sport, basketball, were now the same kids leading the verbal onslaught against me. I had gained weight, and now I was different. They would call me loser, and even at one point began throwing rocks at me when I thought I was safe from the world in my back yard .I was lost. I was alone. I had other friends, or more so acquaintances, but it wasn’t the same. The friends who had befriended me five years ago now had left me alone to rot. This was the first, but not that last time that I felt lost.
I remember sometimes having dreams where I would slice off the fat with a knife, and under that I would have my regular body and things would be ok. It was silly but I think I heard someone say it on a talk show and after that, it wouldn’t leave my mind. I was distraught and had no direction in which to turn to. My Dad never really knew about the situation because we weren’t close at the time, but my Mom was always there. She would pick me up once or twice a week and take me out to lunch so I wouldn’t have to go to recess with all the kids. It meant more to me then she will probably ever Know. But times moved on. I spent the rest of that year learning a new talent, a talent which maybe I learned from the kids tormenting me, but I learned how to isolate myself from the insults, by insulting other kids. I found kids mentally weaker than me and brought them down to make myself feel better. This went on until the end of fifth grade, and into the beginning of sixth.
This was the first hardship in my life, and though it took many years, I learned from it. I learned humility, and how much affect a persons words can truly have, being on both ends of spectrum. I learned that for no reason in life should some one ever compromise their beliefs, and I learned that true friends are hard to find. Furthermore, to this day, I still am self-conscious. I worry about how I look everyday, obviously, not how I dress, but how I present myself. As a result, from hating every minute of being fat, I now run and work out every day. I think it’s ironic that after going through that stage, that now my main talent in life is running, but I’m grateful for it. Finally, I can’t cry. I refused to let myself cry when I was little. When I would be made fun of and I would lock myself in my room. I learned to bottle up most emotions, and keep them locked away until I could let them out productively, and even now I still use the same method. I guess I feel that if I do let them out I am just giving into weakness, and that’s something I’m not ok with. Fifth grade came and went, but not with out leaving a few scars on the way.
I faced another hardship in the summer before eighth grade. This one was a bit different. It started when I met two kids at ken caryl who were always labeled different because of what they were into. They were both very into punk rock and skateboarding, and opened my eyes to a world I had never seen before. I remember when one of those kids loaned me two of her CD’s to burn, they were The Ataris and Unwritten Law. Just hearing this music I had never heard before was relieving. Hearing people growing up just like me, facing the same everyday problems of a teenage kid trying to find themselves, was indescribable. I knew that day that I had changed, I had found a new path through life. That summer I morphed. Instead of wearing clothes sporting major clothing labels, I wore things sporting band names who will never know a major label. Instead of riding my bike, I found my new way of transportation, a skateboard. And finally, instead of being that quiet kid in the group who never really had an opinion about anything, nor took a stand, I became opinionated, a true individual. I realized how unhappy I had been just trying to fit in, and realized how much better it was to do, and dress how I wanted. This new streak of not caring was exactly what I needed, but the only down side, was my friends did not endure the same epiphany I did. See at Ken Caryl, “Skaters,” had always been looked down on. Kids who dressed differently than the people in teen magazines, and who chose to skateboard instead of play organized sports, were never popular. Closed-minded kids would always pick on the individuals who decided to do something different with their life. When summer came along, I once again found myself alone. My friends were uncomfortable with the new Chris, but from the first hardship, I knew that I would not be happy either, being someone I was not, even if it meant having friends. I spent the first two weeks of summer alone. I skateboarded a lot, but it was hard when there was no one to skate with. Nevertheless, shortly after the two weeks, something I did not expect happened. I was lonely and was hoping for a miracle, and I guess my prayers were answered. My friends began coming back, and wanting to hang out again, but it wasn’t just the same kids I was used to hanging out with. They had brought new kids, kids I had never hung out with, and along with these other kids, they brought a new love of skateboarding also. They began to love skateboarding as much as I did, and we began hanging out everyday just as we had used to.
The rest of the summer, and the rest of my 8th grade year was like a dream. My friends and I spent every day doing what we wanted. Listening to new music, skateboarding, and just having a good time. Us skateboarding around the neighborhood also made us role models to younger kids. Instead of seeing the Circle Field packed with kids wearing khaki shorts and collard shirts playing some random sport, there were kids skateboarding on park benches. These kids had never been exposed to skateboarding, and just like in my life, they were changed as well. I had started something much bigger then myself, and all it took was sticking to what I believed in. My friends and I had a great middle school experience, while many kids did not. We found ourselves, and who we were, a long time before many other kids did. We made it quote unquote cool to be different. Of course, there were still kids who did not like us, but at the time, it made no difference. You can’t win over everyone, but that year changed my life, and made me into to who I am today. I love punk rock, along with music in general. I love to skateboard. I love to wear clothes that feel comfortable, but probably would not gain me the acceptance into a country club, and I love to flaunt my beliefs. I know everyone has an opinion, and everyone has beliefs, but I have mine as well. I think it’s great to hear about other peoples beliefs, but I will always stay true to mine. Meeting the world of skateboarding and punk rock changed my life.
Life seemed to be all up after that, I went in to high school, and of course felt insecure once again, but quickly over came that when I made varsity cross-country. The two hard ships in my life had started to pay off, but the third and most difficult of all was yet to come.
I knew something was wrong, but it was not until it was spit in my face that I truly realized what had happened. It was the summer before this year, and ever since the day I started my two jobs, and started spending more time working and less with my friends, that something had changed. It was four in the morning when what was wrong was brought to my attention. I had just finished watching a movie with my sister when I saw the message on my computer screen. It came as such a shock because I knew the screen name by heart. This was one member of my four best friends, one of the kids who I had devoted every free hour to over the past four years, but this was not a normal message. “ Chris I hate you, and so does everyone else. I hope you die, and tomorrow would be a better day if you were dead.” What does one even say to a message like that. I was dumbfounded. Who was this person, and what had they done with the kid who I had spent everyday with for four years. I tried calling him, and my other friends the next day, but they did not answer. I knew that this was real. I kept trying to call, and even on one event ended up hanging out with them, but only to find out that they truly did hate me, but to this day still not knowing the reason why. My friends, though a different group from the ones I had previously had the outs with in seventh grade, had walked out on me. At the time I thought it must be me and that I am destined to die alone. I was abandoned the summer before my senior year. Luckily, I had a job, so I devoted the rest of my summer to working as a lifeguard, and training for the upcoming cross-country season. I met new friends at the pool, and patched things up with my best friend to date who also had been disowned by our former group of friends, but the summer still ended on a melancholy note.
I’ve moved on from this situation, as I did form the previous two, as a man who is stronger, and has more knowledge. The friends who I had lost last summer and I still do not talk. I don’t know why they began to hate me, but I have no desire to find out. I look back and realize that last summer was terrible, but it was also the best thing that could have happened to me. They will remain nameless, but the kids who I used to call my friends and I had come to a fork in the road. My former friends chose a different path than mine. I chose to succeed in school and work hard to be accepted into a private university, instead of wasting my intelligence. I chose to continue with sports, and break previous records, which had stood at this school for many years, while my friends decided their talents were not worth as much as having what they called fun. Finally, I decided to grow up, and realize that life has only begun, and that it does not end in high school. That a few nights of studying, instead of a seven-day party schedule, is not a waste of life, but a gateway to opportunity. I prevailed, instead of withering in the face of hardship.
It is hard to loose a loved one, I know because I have lost them before, but what was the harder for me was seeing the kids whom I still loved walking down the halls, as if I were a ghost, because they did not care for me anymore.

A hint of your cologne,
is fresh air.
Its the warm water refreshing my senses,
as I prepare for bed.
The moment of my day, which stands higher than the rest,
where I lay down,
When I take my last deep breath,
and the blood settles with my head.
I think of all the things you said,
which made me smile, laugh, or think.
My head is heavy with comfort,
and I know I will sleep through the night.
And when I jolt up in the mornimg,
I expect to brush aside the noises:
of loud breathing, eating, drills, and congested streets,
and let your calm demeanor life my spirit.
I know you will bring me back to earth,
and prove to me that love and admiration alike,
are not found in dreams,
but in the final moments of my day,
where I reflect on this life and smile at your existance.

The colors of my pain

This one is about myself for a change... Deceiving vision through
kaleidoscope eyes.
I see all future in line,
Scattered history.
All morals grounded,
No concrete concept is visible.
Archives of knowledge,
makes my life whole.
Though my locking jaw
And burning eyes deceive me.
My feet are bruised:
The universal truth of attraction.
Preventing me to move forward.
SoI sit in purgatory,
Victimizing my fate...
How typical of me.
Shades of another paradigm,
Yet this is all my life.
Why if one person paints black,
Do my eyes still excrete rust.
Your lack of life
Is not what I’m worth.
And fields of positive force
Pull from all corners.
Though my stubborn feet remain nailed
To my sacrifice
Of avoiding intuition.
Though its all behind me,
It can’t push me forward,
Without the power to heal.
While my life is waiting,
My past is knocking
To re-create itself.
And I must avoid temptation,
To love myself.
So why do I cry when they win,
Why do I attempt to lose
And always succeed.
How does hypocrisy get them ahead?
Why the questions
When the answer is
lack of courage.

An old friend

Buried us both,
in the midst of pain.
All thoughts and laughs and our appeal,
a coward's call for help.
Then disguise,
and hermit in your shadow,
of all the things you've gathered,
and raveled into hell.
The place you spoke of with dread,
with pale cheeks and stern lips.
The dark you most deserve,
where memories are dreaded,
and future is as far as headlights expose.
Self-inflicted mistakes pump throughout your lifeless limbs,
and keep you human.
Veiled and mysterious,
but all too clear.
You are now your pain,
and your shadow is you.
No intention to care.
Face the dark which trails you,
which guides you.
Dark can't survive,
in the presence of light.

it's 3:10 a.m. and my Words are up

I have words. To express myself I have words. There are more words. More than words are my ideas that become words. My words are gifts to ... My thoughts are now words. My feelings are alive in words. My actions are thoughts that feel that become words. My words name it. Words are pictures of the brave. Words are names for it. Words are meanings for the unknowing. Words make it simple for the simple. Words are the providence of wisdom and the rhyme of the plain. Words are the interruptions on the white space.
One word weeps
while wistful wants
and waiting whiles away
what was
Once
was no words.

Not So Spring Break

Here I am on the 2nd night of spring break, at home, sick, and blogging! Hah! I watched "What the bleep do we know" and I think that it was so fascinating! I think if you're bored during this break, rent it. Enjoy your break! We really deserved this... especially period 5 after all the hard work we've done.

Witnessing a conversation

dropping an ear, ignoring existence, viewing the world of constant repitition. rivalry of experimenting verse tradition. a magnified eye to simplify the picture. a repetition of sound to detail conversation. a novel of questions, without a true incentive. an effort to get your foot in the door, with personal information. to know their deep ends of motivation, only to reap benefits. identifying nature through reputation. misleading judgment by simple instructions. conflicting status with spirit, and each has their own addition.

An older piece. Eh...

I walked in the dry cold, a cold found in Fall. A cold that runs too deep. Like the days I'd follow you home. I'd question if I should be there, I'd wonder if I care. I'd feel the cold of uncertainty, travel throughout my body. I'd shiver. I'd endure the warmth beside me, as I pressed my cold nose against your face, the overwhelming heat made me close my eyes. I lie. Only to myself. I love the walls around me, your hand's friction on my arms. You kept me warm. I'd leave. The cold never failed to burn. You weren't meant to keep me warm. You kept me pleased and deceived.

the electric kool-aid post

Well leyba here I am posting...
so ha!

I do miss creative writing, it was a sweet class.
I hardly write anymore, let alone write creatively.

yup thats about it for the random post



except for this......
i highly recommend you click on this
its sweet
i mean come on....
would scuba josh lie?!?!

http://jotohe.hp.infoseek.co.jp/num20xxxxxx.swf

Romance... Isn't welcome here.

Im waiting here because I want to save you.
I want to let you inside my head and let you devour me like chocolate cake so you can remember what it felt like to eat it with your hands. I want to love you when the music isn't playing anymore. I want to find you in a sandbox.

I don't know anything about you stranger, except what your lips look like when they are cold and cracked. They mirror me like they know what they are doing. I cant love you but I wish I could. I'm on empty.

You aren't nothing, but I see the way you look at empty vases. Can't always wish there were flowers in them. I want to let you cut me open and examine my insides for a consensus on why my heart aches when our foreheads aren't close and our eyes aren't broken... Stuck on one another like we'd forgotten them there.

But I can't cause sometimes I remember.

Experiments With Truth

As I leave this room I enter
the sorting halls dividing walls
separate lots beautiful people spots
I mingle with the other tribes
whose vibes are humming not with
mine they move in pods and weave
through clique group circle loners
defensive headphones protective cell
phones start wait stop period tones
they move without contact behind
the fit-in mask and cool act
upholding image and reputation
holding breath daylong
during chameleon drills speaking
of individuality at the altar
of conformity
I
wait to
enter this room

what Mr. Bishop was really drawing on the board 2nd hour

The scene is set almost as if taken straight from a picture. A perfect picture which you would see gracing the cover of an outdoor magazine, or a post card which you would send to a homesick friend. The small, humble town is backed by an endless mountain range. Each mountain is capped with a hint of snowing, further enhancing the perfect scene. The slight sound of a jet engine blends graciously with the sweet sound of an early spring day. The only noise that breaks the mold of the wholesome town is the sound of horn, honking at a dog crossing the street. The car is traveling very fast, and seems to also be out of the ordinary along with the noise it expelled. The town seems happy, happy but with a secret.
Mr. Domend walks slowly from one house to another, making sure to stay within the limits of the sidewalk. God forbid the hauntingly green grace would feel the embrace of a shoe-covered foot. God forbid perfection is corrupted. The town seems to have transformed from a wholesome feeling, to a tragic almost homely feel. The picture seems to be to perfect to be true, and everyone seems to have a secret. Shari Grace waters the only yellow spot in her yard. It’s hidden, to the side of the house. Back behind the juniper bushes; back where no one can see. It’s strange how only two days after the disappearance of her husband, a yellow spot, no more then 6 feet by 6 feet appears, diluting the substance to which all thought to be perfect. But other discrepancies are appearing. The once wholesome neighborhood has now been invaded with by an evil secret, which no one intends to look into. The picture is to perfect to be true, but all those within, refuse to let this information out.
The members of the community follow along with their day to day lives. Donnie and Marc stand on the corner, continuing their daily routine of passing the ball. The wind is blowing slightly, and the sun bakes the earth to the perfect temperature. All seems well in this picture, but the truth is hidden within the souls of each and every person who lives there. They know the truth. They know exactly where Mr. Grace disappeared to, but they know damn well that this problem is far more breathtaking then anything they have ever encountered.
From a distance, the picture looks perfect. The wholesome town is placed graciously in front of the never-ending snow-capped mountains. The peaceful bliss of an early spring day enthralls the hearts of all who are blessed to have found such a wholesome place to live. The picture seems perfect, but what they don’t know, is that this picture is truly worth a thousand words, but no one will ever be brave enough to tell it.

I could tell you all about yourself...

I could tell you all about yourself... I can tell you don't know yourself, and I can tell you're afraid to dig. I can tell it is a fear of the vast emptiness and what you may discover. There is a part of you that is a victim. You'd rather have your life take you for a ride, than have control over it. But when you have control I can tell it is too hot for you to handle. It burns you everytime. I can tell you yearn for that kind of reality check. But in no way do you learn from it. I can tell you like the negative attention. I can tell it hurts you too. I can tell you want to grow, but you have difficulty letting go. I can tell you all about yourself, things you may not know. I can see beyond your fascade, I can argue for your sake, but I can't honor your lies, for what they're worth is too much. I can tell that you're not as dangerous as the cautions you display. I can tell you want to have someone tell you all about yourself, for it gives you a start on knowing how to mask the truth. I know you all too well.

Leah is here

testing

What the hell is this...

http://victorywon.com/item.php?iid=266

What the hell is this? Someone I knew had this card...can't believe that they were handing this out.

Conformity sets me free from the burden of individuality

Dude, I'm not a follower--I'm just like drafting off you.

deep thoughts by jack handey

something to look at if you're bored:
http://www.cco.net/~jpete/deepthou.htm

my favorite deep thought:
One thing kids like is to be tricked. For instance, I was going to take my little nephew to Disneyland, but instead I drove him to an old burned-out warehouse. "Oh, no," I said. "Disneyland burned down." He cried and cried, but I think that deep down, he thought it was a pretty good joke. I started to drive over to the real Disneyland, but it was getting pretty late.

MASH

Like OMG!
http://www.playmash.com/

Dirty or not?

I hold her in my arms. One hand grasps lightly around her neck, while the other is resting on the curve of her mid section. When I have her in my arms, I feel relaxed. She is my way to extract myself from the world. I know every inch of her body. I slide my hands up and down her, listening to the noises that come from my fingers finding that perfect position. She is in tune. Each soft exertion sounds different from the first. The lower down my hands travel, the higher the sound that escapes from her “o” shaped opening. Both my hands become in synchronization, and I begin to work up my speed. With each stroke, I begin to cover more ground. I go from using only one finger to four, and my right hand begins following the lead of my left. I continue to strum harder and faster. The more energy I use, the louder she becomes. I know my hands have not missed a spot, because of the beautiful sounds she continues to make. My hands now reach their maximum speed, and the sound she expels shows for it. The sound produced is magnificent, and my arms become weak. I keep the pace for as long as I can, and as I begin to slow, the level of her noise begins to decrease. I finally stop, and begin fingering each string one by one, instead of playing the full chord. My guitar is my way of existence, and my key to nirvana.

reply to the dating ad

I wanted to contact, to say I saw you ad,
I read every word, and I am really glad,
I saw you like to read, but I’m not square,
But I do respect literature, so that is good to hear.
I like to party, and I like to dance,
But I’m also a sucker for a sweet romance.
Late nights are defiantly a plus,
But I’m also a morning person, so I hope it wouldn’t cause a fuss,
In the early hours I would make you breakfast in bed,
Just in hopes that next time you see, I would be in your head,
The only problem seems to be cooking, with that I don’t’ know where to start,
But I promise that the lack of cooking skills, will not stop from me using words to warm your heart
And maybe tonight if its not to late,
I could take you out, on our first date.

A hint of bias, but not bitter...

pools of red, as if bleeding hearts are worn on their sleeves. poisoned promises and bitter hopes that the day will bring peace. buried unhappiness and unaswered questions. proposals and pains on the brink of the surface. unhealthy obsessions and safety needles covered by generic mottos, candy of sorrow feeding the wounds of emptiness. but red is the uniform and they all wear smiles that will dissapear tomorrow. and their red shirts will be buried with their dirty clothes from otherdays. but none of this matters, for today they are wearing red, for roses and sweet nothings are the uniform today and this day vunerability stains the air, and I smile to myself. for today the salty lonliness of singles' wash away their dreams, but pain does not consume me. i watch men and women alike, flood these doors and with void expressions, gaze at the variety of floral arrangements, and I am thankful that helium and cavities are not what satisfy me. my heart is tucked safely in my chest, while they unite in red and pink, and wear their heart on their sleeves.

Oh man

Ok hate me all you want but i would like to take a moment to share my disapointment with you all about the senior quote. Jenns got nothing against star wars but im going to be sending out 85 announcements with a quote from Yoda in them? Guess i should have gotten up for the senior meeting... :)

Just a taste

A paragraph from my story. Just a taste of it i guess. Anyone who wants to hear more let me know. Not a lot of background but at least its a post.
Angela she called herself I Think I will call her “Vacant.”
I was driving until I finally pulled over in a framilar driveway. It was my friend Pauls house. I hadn’t seen it in so long that the paint seemed to be chipping in new places and his dog and I were on burgalar terms again. Angela had consumed my life… Paul had been affected greatly. We ended up parting ways in a somewhat less dramatic episode; where I can remember him turning his back and saying see ya later… That was 11 months ago. My dark jeans stuck to my seat as I willingly leapt from my truck. It was peculiar how I was expecting a warm hello and a couple rounds of our favorite video games. As if no time had passed since that day I had seen him by the lockers. I knocked hard remembering that his doorbell never worked and recalling the wasted minutes I spent on his front porch until I figured that out each day. Paul answered the door in a dirty t-shirt with a glass of milk in his right hand. I smiled so big that I thought my face would fall off. And this is Paul. He simply let me in, sat me down and played 4 hours of video games with me. Not ever asking where id been or why I wasn’t around anymore. Just telling me he was glad I was back. Paul was a simple man. This was real love.

anybody in 6th or 7th hour or whatever hour it is

hey anybody in the later hour of creative writing who has their want ad and would wanna post here should that woudl be awesome cuz then i could do our third hour homework!

Molly says I don't blog enough...

I've been keeping pretty recent on the blogger here... just haven't been posting much. I never really know what to say when someone else posts work. to be honest, I dont read a good majority of it. I have a disliking for reading, and i'm not a very poetic person, so i never see the metaphorical meanings people always have. this is where leyba is thinking... "i'm telling you mike, you're bitter about everything" which is probably true. no particular reason, probably just wanting to be out of high school, even though i know not a lot is going to change in college as far as some of the people i'm around. i might come up with some "bitter with life" poems or something fun... we'll see how motivated i am.

Need a Sweethearts Date?
Lloyd Dobler

The writers of period 5
Lloyd Dobler

Oedipus likes his mom

The whole culture thing can be so messy. Sorry about the time you will never recover. I am willing to give you two hours of mine if that helps--how bout 5th and 6th tomorrow--I just wanna help a brother metrosexual out! Nice shoes!

Oedipus Rex... more like I want 2 hours of my life back

I don't know if it was offered in Creative Writing to go to Oedipus Rex for extra credit, but Humanities went, well some of us. It was awful, and I have an appreciation for the arts. I love the symphony, and most plays, but that was such a waste of my time and my mom's money. Luckily I was in good company, and we all hated it just the same. I WISH I HAD MORE HANDS JUST SO I COULD GIVE THEM... ACTORS?... 4 THUMBS DOWN!

sorry this one is kinda melancholy but intersting

The cool breeze of an Autam afternoon flows through her hair, and the sun shines off it like a blazing wild fire. She sits quietly, basking in the comforting warm afternoon air, waiting to catch the 3:30 train back to school. Her ears are plugged with the sound of music, blocking all the noises of spring that are abundant in the outside world. She wears a smile because of song that plays. It is Layla, by Eric Clapton. She loves hearing the words "you got me on my knee's," as a result of her own name. She likes being in a postion of hierachy, where instead of yearing for attention, she is the one being yearned for. Layla has not experianced this in the span of her life.
She is surrounded by people. Sitting across from her is a teenage mother, or mabye that is her little brother, but the bags under her eyes seem to point more in the direction of a caring mom. But this sight is not foriegn to her. The scare three years ago makes it easy to relate, but i guess some people just have better luck.
Flash! With out warning, a lightning storm of past memoreis flash through her head. Flash! She remebers the car pull to the side walk, it pulls so close that it nearly knocks her off her bike. Flash, flash! The smell of the car when she was the tender age of six flows through her nostrils. That musty smell, that she now knows was a mix of liqour and cigeretts. She could describe every awful detail of that day. The black leather interior of the car. The sereing pain she endured, which to this day has never been matched. The look of the man. His every shape and form. The mole on the top of his left shoulder. The cut about his eye. She begins to shake as a result of the hate that flows through her. Any hint of that man, or that act in which he forced her into enflames her.
Flash! The storm takes her to her Sophomore year in high school. She remembers the boy, and the feel of she soft silk sheets rubbing against her bare back. How she was looking for comfort in all the wrong places. How she felt embraced in his arms, even though she was fully aware that everytime his lips spit the words " i love you," was nothing more then an exertion of tension during the height of passion. It was not the boy she cared about, she could give a damn whose arms she was in, but the attention she was getting from the opposite sex. She had never had it before, and felt it was nessecary to have, even if it ment attaining it by any means nesscary. This was her escape, her way to acceptance.
flash! the final thought. She remebers pushing open the door, walking to the desk, and hearing her test result come as positive. The first time since the last that she felt lost. He, he was no where to be found. What should she do? Where would she go? Who would she... ding ding. The 3:30, right on time.

Song Memory...

This is my favorite journal entry, but I know that I can't share it in front of class because I will cry, so I will just share it here.....
The day started off great. I woke up and felt amazing because the night before I had the best time. It was Sunday and the children were leading the worship service that day. After the church service was done, my pastor came up to the front of the church, he wasn’t happy at all. He started crying and told us that someone had died. He choked a little and couldn’t get it out. He finally got it out and told us that you had been killed in Iraq. I was so hurt and crushed. I cried all day. There was a song that kept playing that day. It had words in it about soldiers and how someone was fighting over someone’s life. The music video was even worse. It had a man who was shot, just like you, and was in the hospital and the doctors were trying to revive him. I know that you died instantly, but just hearing that song and seeing that image broke my heart. When your body was lying in our church, I came and saw you. I had that song stuck in my head. When I saw your body, lifeless yet at the same time full of life, I cried so hard. It didn’t look like you, but I knew that you were in a better place! The song kept going through my head. When I left the church I remembered the last time I saw you. It was at church and you stood up and we all applauded for you, because you were going to Iraq to fight for your country and for God’s people. I know I missed your funeral; it was only because I was so selfish and didn’t want anyone to see me cry anymore. The ironic thing was that that song came on exactly the start of your funeral service. It has been more than a month now since you died but still every time I hear that song it reminds me of you. I hear it everyday! There hasn’t been a day that I haven’t heard that song since you died. Now when I hear that song, I just close my eyes, and think of all the good memories of you and how you used to brighten up my day and make me feel better when I was having a hard time. We will miss you, but it’s almost like it was a sign from you through that song to let me know that you are in a better place and that you know we miss you. I will always remember that song through out my whole life and it will never let me forget about you. I promise I will keep an eye out for your brother.

whats going on

no bodys blogging whats rong with you people?

The Path

Here is something i have found useful in the past, just thought that i would share...

Alice came to a fork in the road. "Which road do I take?" she asked.
"Where do you want to go?" responded the Cheshire cat.
"I don't know," Alice answered.
"Then," said the cat, "it doesn't matter."
-Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

... and something for when times get bad
There are some remedies worse than the disease. ~Publilius Syrus

Just some ideas

Not too many people are blogging, so I threw in some pieces, or quotes 'if you will'. Enjoy.


Here's A Thought:

Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A Beauty Bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launce one. It would explode high in the air--explode softly--and send thousands, millions of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth--boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn't go cheap, either-not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination.
-By Robert Fulghum

Do not burn yourself out. Be as I am- a reluctant enthusiast, a part time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it is still there. So get out there and ramble out yonder, explore the forests, encounter the grizz, climb the mountains, bag the peaks. Run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, the lovely, mysterious and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to the body, the body active and alive, and I promise you this much: I promise you this one sweet victory over your enemies, over those deskbound people with their hearts in a safe deposit box and their eyes hypnotized by desk calculators. I promise you this. You will outlive "them".

- Edward Abbey

I've been watching you...

25 January

I've been watching you...

And have attempted to understand your mirror-like demeanor. I have seen what I see in any mirror. I see familiarity, I feel discomfort, and I attempt to see beyond the surface.I watch you watch everyone else. I watch you judge, envy, and imitate. I often watch you fail, but I frequently see you succeed. I watch you chase, and I watch you tease, and I wonder if you ever rest. I watch and wonder if you know what you are in pursuit of. I watch you try hard to please, and I watch you get pulled in. I watch your feet drag as you get drawn to the crowd. But the trail is not resistance. I watch your mirror get scratched, and I struggle to face the reflection. What I see is something new. I see a collection of people, with one shocking twist: there is you, head turned, with your back facing the silver lining that once enveloped me. And I watch you highlight my very essence, and every flaw you see. I watch you take your imperfections, and walk away from me. I watch you face your future, in an attempt to move on. I see that you are astray. I hope to watch you find yourself.

Some info for leyba

Here is some things u might like to know about me. I am very quiet unless I'm in a good mood or on my adhd meds. I have a huge phobia of crowds and being singled out in them for example my 8th grade speech I had I passed out from being in front of the class and because I was the only one standing up there I do ok if I'm with some one else but I just prefer to not be in front of the class all to together. I also have some short term memory problems to so I would appreciate it if u would remind me of things that are do often so I get them in on time. I guess that's the biggest things about me u should know. If u want to see some of the things I write in class I will post it here or I will give u a copy to read.

response

Erin do know what you are talking about because i was like that about a year ago and i dont think that life is a bottomliss pit i just think u might be stuck on all the bad things in your life right now and that you should not worry as much as you are right now. I'm telling you this manly because i got out of thinking that by not woring as much as i was and i had found some thing that made me happy and able to forget all about that kined of stuff. So i say to you that things may seem unbelivable bad and that every thing u belive in is gone its not its just misplacesd for now it will come back to u in time. just believe u will fined something like i did to make u happy and every thing should work out.

I Can Tell You

I can tell you all about yourself
the you you see doesn't look the same to me
and the you you proclaim to be is a mystery to me
you're a flat character with a one sided stare
stare that's obscured by the light from your eyes reflecting off
your mirror that mirror that when your in front of you
you can't even hear
anything but your own voice
the voice of choice to make you
smile smile while you admire the shell shell where you
hide where you don't feel the inside the inside
that fits on a shelf
yeah, I can tell you about yourself

Wanna trade?
Lloyd Dobler

k mr. leyba this is so you can read what i write

How To Be a Girl

1. Act as if she doesn't care, even though she knows she does.
2. Don't suck up your pride. She knows what she wants, but is too proud to tell him she wants him back even though she see's he is second guessing.
3. Eyes straight, smile constantly, be ready to fake laugh every time you see him to show him you're fine on your own.
4. Flirt with all his friends-that will get him back.
5. Act the blonde role around all the other guys, even though it's not you.
6.Mention to him every guy who tries to pick you up, that will get him good.
7. Forgive him when he makes mistakes, even though he doesn't deserve it. Once is bad, but twice is terrible.
8. Tear him open with those eyes that won him over.
9. Make him realize he can't live without you, and no matter how hard he tries, he will never be able to forget the time you shared.
10. Never realize that your actions hurt him and that every story has two sides, even though one side seems to be blatantly obvious--It can't be her fault for the sudden change of heart.

Choose Sides Now! POW! ZOWIE! Holy Blowhole
Lloyd Dobler

Only Love

I finally found some time to read some of the blogs. I really am going to try and add some more here and there. Leyba, I miss your class. Well I guess that's it. I'll leave ya with my favorite quote:

"There are only four questions of value in life. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made of? What is worth living for? What is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same. Only love."
~Don Juan Demarco~

Psh... Posers...hehe

So we all know who the REAL creative writing kids are, it's the first semester kids. You know, the ones to put their lives on the line for 50 minutes every day with the one and only Leyba. Speaking of which, I feel bad for the kids that have the student teacher. I mean I'm sure he's great and all, but hell we all know Leyba is the reason we took the class. I don't know where the whole poser title came from... I got nothing. Speaking of main stream did anyone else hit up the Express sale yet? I got jeans, and 3 shirts for only $48!

Begining and End
Lloyd Dobler

Starting Over

Well, I'm starting over--a new group of writers. I truly miss my first semester writing classes--not that I won't like the new classes. My 3rd hour is going to have a student teacher part of the semester--i'm already hearing the grumbles. Tell your friends that it is the students that really make the class--I'm just a middleman, a bookeeper, the file boy. Keep blogging please! I know your writing here will showcase what I always hope happens in class. Writing.

peace

eBay strikes again

http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&rd=1&item=5545067660

this is really mean of the guy to do this. read the title and the first paragraph closely and notice how it says to read the description closely. sad thing is it got up to $152.

Helloooooooooo

Anyone out there?

Must watch Christmas movies

Elf
Christmas Vacation
Home Alone
The Grinch
Santa Claus 2
The Ref
Love Actaully

I've watched 5 so far

No DEATH TO THE blog.

No death to the blog. It cant end here. I dont know what ill do with my life if the blog wasnt here to check when my curfew rolls around. Its fun to have a place to say something. Before the blog I had a big fat journal of a bunch writing that i had writen and never looked at again. I was really glad that i had something to do will all that brain work I had stored in there. Thanks to anyone who took the time to read through my stuff; eventhough some of it is very drab and redundant. Love to all of you over Christmas. Im going to go out now! Goodnight!

jenn

Wood!

Dear Red Green Irish Writer, Thank You For The "Quote" Book. Man, I'm Funny.

thanks for secret santa stuff

i just want to say whoever gave me the cookies for secret santa is awesome, they were really good. probably the best secret santa gifts are the edible ones.

On a string...

I've got the world on a string
Sitting on a rainbow
Got that string around my finger
What a world, what a life, I'm in love

I've got a song that I sing
I can make the rain go
Anytime I snap my finger
What a world, what a life, I'm in love

Life's a beautiful thing
Long as I hold that string
I'd be a silly so-and-so
If I'd ever let you go

1 week left.

memoir 2.0

this is the memoir that i turned in. about my year as a freshmen, constructive criticism would be cool (sorry for long post):

My freshmen year of high school was an eventful one in my life. I had entered high school with aspirations and wanted to get involved with the school because it seemed like a good way to meet people. That year while I was a freshman, I could not find my way around Columbine because it seemed like it was much larger place than Ken Caryl middle school. I remember wondering how I would find my way through the school. At registration I hoped there would be someone, at least one person, I knew in any of my periods that I could hang around with and relate to. “Links”, where the seniors and juniors helped us to become familiar with the school, made me nervous too. I was lucky because both my Links leaders were very cool. When I saw kids going to the Gym in crazy costumes I thought to myself “Holy crap…what the hell is all this?” After the “Links” assembly was over, I waited for my Mom outside. I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I went to see if there were any other kids I knew that I could talk to. A bunch of kids standing around with their friends, but I couldn’t find anyone I recognized so I sat on one of the rocks out front. When my Mom picked me up I was excited but nervous hoping that I would know someone in any of my periods. When the first day came I carried my schedule around the whole day and had trouble finding some classes. I asked random people as to where some of my classes were. When I was walking through Columbine I loved how everything looked. It was better than Ken Caryl in almost every way I thought. The halls were way wider, we had a cool library, an elevator, a huge auditorium, and the commons were big too. During my off hours I didn’t know anyone. I was very shy (and still am to a degree) and spent the first two weeks not hanging out with anyone during off periods or lunch periods. Finally, one day I saw these kids playing this card game so I decided to actually go over there. My knees where shaking almost, but I finally went over to ask if I could play cards with them. After they had said yes that’s where I spent the rest of the first semester on my off periods. I had decided from early on that I wanted to actually apply myself Freshmen year because in middle school I hadn’t been in any extracurricular activities and got mediocre grades. I figured that I would try out activities to meet people and improve my work ethic. I was thinking about what sports I could possibly do. I knew my hand-eye coordination wasn’t that great, so I decided to go into Cross Country. After I had signed up, the first day I got there I went up to the coach Thielking in my hiking boots and pants and asked if I could run. He told me that I’d probably die because of what I was dressed up in, and he was right. Even though I sucked horribly at running I still was proud that I actually kept on running for a distance. Before that day the longest I ran was in sixth grade during the mile. I thought the coaches were really cool too. Coach Thielking and McWilliams were really nice. I didn’t really know who to talk to because I didn’t know anyone in Cross Country either, but I eventually met some nice people. Patrick, a senior that had a locker a few lockers down from my in the locker room, was very good at Cross Country. He would yell at me whenever I felt the urge to be lazy and I’m glad he did. Nick was also on the other side in the locker room and the three of us would usually talk before the practices. Nick was a lanky Sophomore who had an unusual sense of humor, but I liked that. Me and Nick were around the same skill level in Cross Country. Neither of us were really good, but I was glad I got to hang around both of them. Patrick was really good at cross country though. He always got way better times than me. One of the times we went to a tournament the three of us got bored and we wandered into some woods nearby. We just talked and tried to pass time until we had to run. We came across an abandoned sleeping bag with a bunch of pokemon cards and a lot of dirty clothes. We just stared at it all wondering why someone would leave something like that in a forest. After that we called the spot ‘Hobo palace’ and we wandered back to where the rest of the teammates were. We spent the rest of the time between when we had to run talking about what kind of person would leave those kind of things. After sitting around with Nick and Matt I figured out from the coach that we had to go soon, so I looked around to find a good place to change into my competition outfit. After scanning the area for a good place to change clothes I saw two really long lines of people waiting to go into a port-a-potty. After waiting a long time there was I was only waiting on the person before me to get out. When the door opened up the guy looked sick and I asked him “are you okay?” The kid said “I’m kind of sick…sorry.” My god, it smelled like something died in there, it was so horrible. I had to hold my breath while getting dressed in my Columbine outfit. After that was over with I went to sit back at my bag and got my nerves out before they called us to go to the starting line. The girls were running before us and they were just crossing the finish line, so I decided to go over to the finish line to root them on. Some of the girls were really attractive, so I didn’t mind watching them. After they had gone I went up to finish the race. I did pretty badly in the end, but I was still was glad that I was out the house and around people. When I got home I crashed and went to bed really early. Everyday when we were huddled up doing our stretches I saw this girl that looked really cool and cute. I was really nervous about actually going up and talking to her, so I worshipped from afar from a while. I didn’t know how to go up and say ‘hi’ because I figured it would be really awkward. Finally, one day I told myself that I really wanted to get to know this girl so I would go up and try to make small talk. She was by the sign and I figured that that was the perfect time to try to initiate conversation. My heart was beating really hard and my knees were shaking. I finally managed to say ‘hi’, but I didn’t know what to talk about. I had a bunch of thoughts going through my head, so I asked a bunch of questions that I thought would be good ice breakers, like asking questions about her and she gave one word answers. I was thinking “Oh my god, I am completely bombing this.” She looked like she didn’t know what to say and she inched away slowly (if you are reading this, sorry about writing this and i know you are a nice person). I was glad I finally got the guts and went up to talk to her, even though I didn’t do so well. As we got further into the year I learned that it was a smart idea to drink as much water as I could before Cross Country practices. Otherwise, I would get really bad cotton mouth. I also learned to fear two certain words while I was in Cross Country, “rebel hill.” I would always die when I went up that hill because it was usually 85 degress and up and we would do multiple sprints up the hill. I would always rush over to the cooler so I could get a drink before everyone else. Even though I died almost all the time when I did cross country, I was glad I got to get out and see people.

One of the other activities I tried out was Choir and the musical. Even though I had not ever been in any Choir group before my Freshman year, I had been to a lot of my sister’s concerts. She was the one that talked me into Choir. Before the freshmen year started I had to fill out what electives I wanted to go into. I had chosen everything except one class, so I asked my Mom and my Sister what a good class would be to take. They had suggested a lot of classes, but I didn’t want to take any of them. Finally, my sister had suggested I go into Choir. I told her that I hadn’t been in Choir before and I probably wouldn’t be too good at it, but I finally filled it in because I didn’t know what else to take. It actually turned out to be really fun. It was funny when Mr. Andres (senior) made fun of us when we were sucking really bad. He would make fun of the girls sometimes and sometimes he would make fun of us guys. We had a strong section because of the seniors that were in the class and needed credits. The seniors made the class interesting. In our base section there was this John Bright. It’s hard to describe him, but he was really cool. He talked about how he and some other guys pulled the plug on the piano while everyone was singing and how Mr. Andres had no idea what had caused the piano to stop. Joe Dreaden was about as tall as I was at the time but he had a lot of muscle and he wasn’t someone I would want to mess with. He acted like he was tough but I thought he was cool anyways. I had always watched concerts my Sister had been performing in, but it felt weird to be performing too. I quickly learned that the robes and stage lights make you really hot. The first time I was up there I thought about how my Sister always said it was like an oven on the stage. It felt cool to look into the crowd and know that they were there to listen to us. Later on in the year Mr. Andres needed more guys in the musical, so he asked us if we wanted to be in it. I jumped on the chance because I thought it would be another good opportunity to meet people. We did Fiddler on the Roof and I was in Chorus. We did a lot of work, but on my breaks I would make card houses or other card games with whoever was around. The teacher’s lounge was the place where everyone spent their time on their breaks. People would do anything from homework to watching TV or playing video games. One time this kid brought in his Sega Genesis and we all played against each other in Sonic. We did a lot of late nights, but it was time I had spent outside of my house.

About a month before homecoming rolled around I felt like I wanted to go to homecoming. I didn’t have any idea who I would ask, because there was no in particular I really felt like asking. I ended up going and I learned that I didn’t know how to dance, but it was all right because a majority of the guys I saw sucked also. I spent most of the night wondering if someone saw how bad I looked dancing. My date was really cool, but we were just friends after that.

By the time the year was almost over I realized I had made some progress with people and trying to be less awkward, but I still had a long way to go. Girls didn't scare the crap out of me as much as they did when I started freshman year. One day I asked myself “What qualities do I like in my friends or a girlfriend?” I thought the question would be easy, but it wasn’t. The more and more I thought about it I realized I didn’t have a definite answer for that. All of the social interaction I have ever had in highschool hopefully will help me answer this question, because even as a senior I have no clue.

my old memoir

was going to have this as my memoir, but I decided to write about something else. (kind of light topic, didn't correct any errors in it though):

Karate was really fun when I was younger. My Dad had taken Karate before and he thought it might be a good idea to go check out this place near our house. I remember hoping I wouldn’t actually have to get involved in Karate when my Dad mentioned it. About a week later we went over to the Karate school and he was impressed with the Senseis of the school and the way they treated their students. I remember I was in sixth grade that day and I absolutely did not want to be there. However, when I first saw my Gi I was excited. I wanted to join the class right away and I took my first class that day. I took a white belt and got dressed up. Even though the class was with kids that were way younger than me, I thought Karate was the coolest thing. I was excited when I got home and I imagined myself as being a master at Karate. I imagined myself blocking every punch threw by a made up guy in my imagination. Part of why I liked Karate so much was because of the people I met while in it. The people that run the school are Sensei Chuck and Sensei Carol. Sensei Chuck is a very nice guy and had been a police officer. He was very intelligent and had a degree in Psychology and a very reserved guy. Sensei Carol on the other hand had a very bubbly personality and she was very cool. She is an out of the box thinker and very bright. I really did enjoy Karate because of the way people interacted with each other. The first day I was there I saw these guys sparring and then afterwards they went over and gave each other high fives. Anyways, as I progressed through the belts I got to know more people. My Dad was happy whenever he took me to Karate also because he would talk to nearly every parent in the school. As time went on I got to know Sensei Carol and Sensei Chuck more and realized how cool they were. As I got better reflexes and technique I started to compete in sparring at tournaments. Tournaments are held in huge areas, looks like an empty warehouse. I remember getting extremely nervous before every tournament. I would pace around until my round was ready to go. Honestly, the first time I competed at a tournament I got destroyed. It was fun though because we would all go to Red Robins after the tournaments and we would have a party of 30. I also asked out the first girl I’ve ever asked out in Karate. I was really infatuated with this girl and she was one of the prettiest girls at the school in my opinion. I was way too nervous to actually ask her out on a date for a long time, but we had classes together and we would partner up often. I remember we would play around and laugh during class. She was aggressive whenever she sparred against me though. We would go against each other often and the Senseis didn’t mind it too much because we were pretty much the same in weight, height, and skill level. One of the classes I ate dinner before and I dreaded the fact that Sensei Rick was going to head the class. If he was heading the class you knew that you would feel like you want to puke by the end of the class. That class as I thought was a very intense class. Eventually, I was paired up with Monique and we sparred. Soon after we started I decided to do what I wanted to do long ago, I would ask her out. Maybe 5 minutes before class stopped I asked her out,then she said yes and I puked all over the mat. I remember some kid asking if I had Chinese food for Dinner.

THWACK!

"Jingle Bells, Batman Smells... Robin Laid An Egg! The Batmobile Lost a Wheel,
And the Joker Got Away!"

yeah thats right

spiderman for life!

Hi locals

Just changing it up a bit--you know--something dark for the holidays. 11 days left together--moisture in the corner. Do you want me to leave this blog up after the semester ends? Do you need my sizes and fav colors for Christmas?

4-99 Black

Cliques and Clicks

I was teaching the novel a separate peace. I talked to my students about cliques, groups, circles, friendship, belonging, being on the fringe. I related my stories of being a brown kid in a predominantly white high school. We talked about how it is also OK to belong and fit in. We all want to fit in. I wore clothing to look more like the majority.

We named some of the cliques in school; skaters, preps, jocks, goths, but we never mentioned a trench coat mafia. We talked about why some teens wear black. This was no dissertation statistically riddled with research, but my freshman could see the symbolism of wearing black—the absence of color the presence of separation and belonging. We talked about Black being the color you wear until you find the color you are.

Black is teenage purgatory.

I shared my observations of watching a neighbor boy-a nice kid, walk home many days. He always—not sometimes-always wore some piece of black clothing. He’s a clean kid: nice haircut, nice black pants, brand name black backpack, and nice black athletic shoes. I asked my students why this kid always wore black—he wasn’t a Goth. They told me that he just likes black. They told me he was trying to fit into lots of groups. They speculated that if he wore black, even if he looked nice, kids that were skaters and preps would like him