Thinking Tree
Lloyd Dobler
Sunday, May 22, 2005
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
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
Sunday, May 15, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, May 13, 2005
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
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
Sunday, May 01, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, April 29, 2005
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
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.
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.
Monday, March 21, 2005
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.
One word weeps
while wistful wants
and waiting whiles away
what was
Once
was no words.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
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.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
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.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
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
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
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
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.
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
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
Monday, March 07, 2005
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
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.
Monday, February 28, 2005
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.
What the hell is this? Someone I knew had this card...can't believe that they were handing this out.
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