Thursday, August 30, 2007
Friday, August 24, 2007
surface
water cold, depleting
energy with grim
determination
at the hour before
dawn
when hope wanes
thoughts weigh down,
sinking
with the oppression
of despair
as the lonely
icychill encloses
overhead
a prayer is sent
to the surface
surfacing;
the prayer, like a
bottle containing
the last message
of hope
finds someone
whether nymph or angel
the creature unknown
reaches down
into the icychill,
pulling me
up
to the surface
breaking the numb
enclosure
I look into
the face of the creature
unknown, and find
a face
familiar, and
as close to me
as my own heart
the creature
is now known to me
and wears
the face of a friend.
my savior, my friend.
energy with grim
determination
at the hour before
dawn
when hope wanes
thoughts weigh down,
sinking
with the oppression
of despair
as the lonely
icychill encloses
overhead
a prayer is sent
to the surface
surfacing;
the prayer, like a
bottle containing
the last message
of hope
finds someone
whether nymph or angel
the creature unknown
reaches down
into the icychill,
pulling me
up
to the surface
breaking the numb
enclosure
I look into
the face of the creature
unknown, and find
a face
familiar, and
as close to me
as my own heart
the creature
is now known to me
and wears
the face of a friend.
my savior, my friend.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Three Cups of Tea
Three Cups of Tea: One Man's Mission to Promote Peace. . One School at a Time, by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin is an amazing story about the effect one man can have on thousands of children.In the same dangerous region where the Taliban emerged, Greg Mortenson has brought education to thousands of children by building fifty-five schools in little more than a decade. In his own way, Mortenson is fighting terrorism by giving students an education, and not allowing them to fall prey to the indoctrination of terrorists. Bestselling author Ahmed Rashid says that "Three Cups of Tea is beautifully written. It is also a critically important book at this time in history. The governments of Pakistan and Afghanistan are both failing their students on a massive scale. The work Mortenson is doing, providing the poorest students with a balanced education, is making them much more difficult for the extremist madrassas to recruit."
This book not only shows the desperate need for education in Central Asia, but the effect that one hardworking, dedicated man can have upon nations. Three Cups of Tea is a must read!
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Ode to Toni's Thighs
You might not get this if you aren't Toni, but because she specifically requested a poem about her thighs, I wrote one! Yes, I do occassionally take requests. By the way, I really don't like writing poetry that rhymes. But for Toni, I would do anything! I love her! So here it is!
In all my 22 years on earth
I’ve seen wonders of great worth
But nothing that has crossed my blue-green eyes
Was worth more than Toni’s thighs.
Surely, they will go down in history
What I did without them was a mystery
Any other thighs fill me with distaste,
Their glory will never be replaced.
To do them honor I wrote this ode
Even though I write no better than a toad
To let Toni know her thighs are best
And I am pretty much obsessed!
In all my 22 years on earth
I’ve seen wonders of great worth
But nothing that has crossed my blue-green eyes
Was worth more than Toni’s thighs.
Surely, they will go down in history
What I did without them was a mystery
Any other thighs fill me with distaste,
Their glory will never be replaced.
To do them honor I wrote this ode
Even though I write no better than a toad
To let Toni know her thighs are best
And I am pretty much obsessed!
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Rejected Love
This poem is the result of a bored Saturday at work (not a personal experience) :) Enjoy!
You rejected me, my love
I am left
Standing
On my front porch
A solitary tear trails
Down my flushed cheek
I am left
alone.
You were my sun, the God
Of my world
You were my world
I love you
I loved you
I gave you my heart
But tonight
On the front porch
You took my heart
And stomped on it.
After making sure each valve
Was sufficiently crushed
By the worn soles of your loafers
You took my heart up
In your hands
And rammed it
Back down my throat
Where it was
Before I gave it to you
I loved you
You slime.
My mind wanders
To the time you first looked my way
Your brown eyes reminded me
Of a melted Hershey’s bar
Now they seem to me
To be just the color of mud
A very dull mud, the kind of mud
I squish between my toes
I laugh to think of squishing your eyes
Between my toes.
The first time
Your lips touched mine
I thought I felt fireworks
But as I stand alone
On my front porch,
I see they weren’t really fireworks,
But alarm bells, telling me to
RUN! RUN! RUN!
Come to think of it
I would rather kiss a
Diamondback rattlesnake.
Kissing a poisonous snake
Would be a step up
From what I’ve been used to
With you.
Parasite.
I thought I loved you
I must have been
Merely infected
With some sort of rare
Disease. The kind of disease
That causes a person to do
Very
Stupid
Things.
Do you know what
I would really love
To do
To you?
First, punch you in the face
Pow
Key your brand new Jeep
Screeeeeeeeeech
Light your house on fire
Snap, crackle, pop
Plant a car bomb
BOOM!
Goodbye, my love.
However,
To avoid the jail time
I instead stand straight
As you peel out of my driveway
Flip the bird, make sure you see
And walk into my apartment
Alone,
Gloriously alone.
You rejected me, my love
I am left
Standing
On my front porch
A solitary tear trails
Down my flushed cheek
I am left
alone.
You were my sun, the God
Of my world
You were my world
I love you
I loved you
I gave you my heart
But tonight
On the front porch
You took my heart
And stomped on it.
After making sure each valve
Was sufficiently crushed
By the worn soles of your loafers
You took my heart up
In your hands
And rammed it
Back down my throat
Where it was
Before I gave it to you
I loved you
You slime.
My mind wanders
To the time you first looked my way
Your brown eyes reminded me
Of a melted Hershey’s bar
Now they seem to me
To be just the color of mud
A very dull mud, the kind of mud
I squish between my toes
I laugh to think of squishing your eyes
Between my toes.
The first time
Your lips touched mine
I thought I felt fireworks
But as I stand alone
On my front porch,
I see they weren’t really fireworks,
But alarm bells, telling me to
RUN! RUN! RUN!
Come to think of it
I would rather kiss a
Diamondback rattlesnake.
Kissing a poisonous snake
Would be a step up
From what I’ve been used to
With you.
Parasite.
I thought I loved you
I must have been
Merely infected
With some sort of rare
Disease. The kind of disease
That causes a person to do
Very
Stupid
Things.
Do you know what
I would really love
To do
To you?
First, punch you in the face
Pow
Key your brand new Jeep
Screeeeeeeeeech
Light your house on fire
Snap, crackle, pop
Plant a car bomb
BOOM!
Goodbye, my love.
However,
To avoid the jail time
I instead stand straight
As you peel out of my driveway
Flip the bird, make sure you see
And walk into my apartment
Alone,
Gloriously alone.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
In Contemplation
Sitting under a weeping
Willow, she reads
Wind blows softly
Blowing hair
Blowing branches
Blowing leaves on branches
Leaves in book
Her gaze, thwarted
By the wind
Is not on the words
In the book
Not on the letters
Of the page,
But away
In the distance she
Stares, her eyes
Sometimes blue, sometimes
Green, aren’t focused on
Dandelions, or blue birds
Or the wispy way the branches
Of the weeping willow blow
She doesn’t look
In one place
She looks in
All places
Quietly reaching in
Plucking thoughts, like petals
Off a brainflower
She wonders
Everything, and wonders
Nothing
All at once.
Willow, she reads
Wind blows softly
Blowing hair
Blowing branches
Blowing leaves on branches
Leaves in book
Her gaze, thwarted
By the wind
Is not on the words
In the book
Not on the letters
Of the page,
But away
In the distance she
Stares, her eyes
Sometimes blue, sometimes
Green, aren’t focused on
Dandelions, or blue birds
Or the wispy way the branches
Of the weeping willow blow
She doesn’t look
In one place
She looks in
All places
Quietly reaching in
Plucking thoughts, like petals
Off a brainflower
She wonders
Everything, and wonders
Nothing
All at once.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
For King
I wanted to write a tribute to my family's dog King because he was a part of our family for so long - 15 years! 15 fun-filled years he was our energetic little puppy, white and fluffy and our very loyal friend. He's been getting old, and he's had cancer for many years, but he was always so chipper and still so happy to be our King that we couldn't part with him. He finally fell victim to his sickness and old age, and it is a bittersweet report to say that he is finally in a better place. This poem is especially for my family, dedicated to our sweet puppy Nat King Cole!
For King
A happy bark welcomes me home
A fluffly white ball of fur comes bounding up
Barkbark, jump
Bark, barkjump
He is happy
To see me.
Cheerful King
The King of our backyard
Constant hole-digger
Chewer of anything left outside
But especially shoes
My shoes happily bore the holes
Of our King.
He might not have been
Good at playing fetch
He never really got
The concept of "sit, stay"
But he knew when I was sad
He could feel my tears
And was always at ready
To cuddle with me
when I cried.
I saw him getting old
His gait slower,
Spending a little more time
Laying down in the shade
He got sick and our tears
Fell, for him
But now the pain is gone
He is in a place where dogs
Stay young
And cancer doesn't slow
His happy walk.
Our King
The King in our backyard
King in our hearts.
For King
A happy bark welcomes me home
A fluffly white ball of fur comes bounding up
Barkbark, jump
Bark, barkjump
He is happy
To see me.
Cheerful King
The King of our backyard
Constant hole-digger
Chewer of anything left outside
But especially shoes
My shoes happily bore the holes
Of our King.
He might not have been
Good at playing fetch
He never really got
The concept of "sit, stay"
But he knew when I was sad
He could feel my tears
And was always at ready
To cuddle with me
when I cried.
I saw him getting old
His gait slower,
Spending a little more time
Laying down in the shade
He got sick and our tears
Fell, for him
But now the pain is gone
He is in a place where dogs
Stay young
And cancer doesn't slow
His happy walk.
Our King
The King in our backyard
King in our hearts.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Journey to Light
Standing in darkness
The darkness of the world
Surrounds me
Lost, I don't know which way
Is north
Which way is up
Which way to Thee
I stumble along
Standing in darkness
The darkness of the world
Holding hope
In my arms, clinging
I pray
I turn, to find light
Where is the light
My thoughts turn inward
Inward, I turn upward
Groping, I grasp Thy hand
I am pulled out
Out of the darkness
The darkness of the world
I see a glimpse of my future
A shimmer, still blurry
But clearer than it was
In the darkness
And I realize
My eyes have been closed
All along
The darkness of the world
Surrounds me
Lost, I don't know which way
Is north
Which way is up
Which way to Thee
I stumble along
Standing in darkness
The darkness of the world
Holding hope
In my arms, clinging
I pray
I turn, to find light
Where is the light
My thoughts turn inward
Inward, I turn upward
Groping, I grasp Thy hand
I am pulled out
Out of the darkness
The darkness of the world
I see a glimpse of my future
A shimmer, still blurry
But clearer than it was
In the darkness
And I realize
My eyes have been closed
All along
Monday, April 16, 2007
To Be New
If only I could see the world again
Feel the jolt, the first crack of light
To take that first shaky breath
And announce to the world
I’m new here
To feel the first caress of a mother’s hand
A father’s strong yet gentle hold
To see them, alive
Not in memory alone
To grin up at them for the very first time
And break the silence with a laugh
Becoming their world
To discover
My hands at the end of my arms
My toes at the end of my feet
To taste them, my very own limbs
Bending in half
Without snapping in two
To have plump flesh covering my bones
Instead of my skin
Transparent, highways of blue
Veins like rings in a tree
To count, one two buckle my shoe
Three four open the door
To a cold blast of wind carrying with it
A notice of expiration
The train slowing
Coming to a halt
When will it
stop.
You might remember this poem, I had it on my blog awhile ago. However, this was the poem that I workshopped with my creative writing class, and for my end of semester portfolio I had to revise the poem. So this is my revised version. After the workshop of this poem I decided that when I revised the poem I wanted to steer away from a narrative voice and focus more on the images in the poem. Go back and read the original version, in my blog archive, and tell me which one you like better! Thanks!
Feel the jolt, the first crack of light
To take that first shaky breath
And announce to the world
I’m new here
To feel the first caress of a mother’s hand
A father’s strong yet gentle hold
To see them, alive
Not in memory alone
To grin up at them for the very first time
And break the silence with a laugh
Becoming their world
To discover
My hands at the end of my arms
My toes at the end of my feet
To taste them, my very own limbs
Bending in half
Without snapping in two
To have plump flesh covering my bones
Instead of my skin
Transparent, highways of blue
Veins like rings in a tree
To count, one two buckle my shoe
Three four open the door
To a cold blast of wind carrying with it
A notice of expiration
The train slowing
Coming to a halt
When will it
stop.
You might remember this poem, I had it on my blog awhile ago. However, this was the poem that I workshopped with my creative writing class, and for my end of semester portfolio I had to revise the poem. So this is my revised version. After the workshop of this poem I decided that when I revised the poem I wanted to steer away from a narrative voice and focus more on the images in the poem. Go back and read the original version, in my blog archive, and tell me which one you like better! Thanks!
Maus by Art Spiegelman
When thinking of a Holocaust depiction, comic books may be the furthest thing from our minds. The idea of a comic book about the Holocaust may seem irreverent or abhorrent. However, author Art Spiegelman disregarded stereotypes made about comic books and wrote Maus, a comic book about his father's experiences in the Holocaust. This book is unique to any depiction of the Holocaust that I have ever read, and not just because of the comic book format. Spiegelman draws himself into the book, and a main part of the book is him dealing with his father's history and experiences, and dealing with the relationship he has with his father. This book is the best book I have ever read about the Holocaust. It not only deals with the Holocaust directly, but the longer lasting traumatic effects it had on its victims. Not only that, Spiegelman makes racial stereotypes a main theme of this book, not only between the Nazis and the Jews but other races depicted in the book. It is fabulous, fantastic, and I highly recommend it to anyone. It's two volumes, but a really quick read, and it will make you look at the Holocaust in a different light.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Memoirs of a Box Office Slave
“Come see Broadway in the Desert! Imagine your favorite musicals performed on an outdoor stage surrounded by 1500 foot cliffs of beautiful red rock – a magnificent experience you will not soon forget! This summer and fall, come see Disney’s Beauty and the Beast and, back by popular demand, Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat! Call the Box Office at 1-800-746-9882 for more information about tickets.”
…And more information about anything else, really. As a box office employee, I should be able to tell you at any moment, without the slightest hesitation, the rates at all the hotels in the area within a fifty mile radius, book your flight to Southern Utah, give you dating advice and tell you the weather forecast for the next three months. Thus, I will be personally responsible if it rains on the day I said it wouldn’t, if the hotel is full the day you booked your tickets, if your boyfriend breaks up with you, and if your plane crashes. I might even be able to pull a few strings and take care of the funeral arrangements. As a Sales Representative and Assistant Manager of the box office, I can do just about anything short of walk on water. But, with the special effects available to me at the outdoor amphitheater I work at, I might even be able to do that.
I love talking on the phone with you, especially when you shout at me, complain to me, interrupt me, put me on hold to answer another call, and eat lasagna in my ear. My favorite is when you let me know that you are unable to write down your confirmation number because you are in the bathroom. I have no concept of too much information, because I am a Box Office Sales Associate. By all means, don’t have your credit card handy when you call to order tickets: I love to wait for five minutes while you track it down.
I am definitely sympathetic when you call to get tickets for tomorrow night, which has been sold out for two weeks, and expect to get tickets on the front row. And yes, it does make a difference if you are from Red Mountain Spa. I will personally kick the other paying customers out of their seats for you: no, really, I will. You’re very welcome. It’s all part of the job.
Yes, I completely understand your expectations of cheap ticket prices and a Broadway-quality show at the same time. I feel your pain in my soul when your sale total comes to a hefty $500, and I shed a hypothetical tear when you exclaim “oh my butt!” after I tell you the ticket prices. I do not receive the slightest satisfaction when the board of directors raises ticket prices, because I know how it aggravates your already-festering ulcers. Of course I’ll give you a handsome discount: just not over the phone.
When you call and want to get tickets for Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat on a night that Beauty and the Beast plays, I will, of course, make a few calls to the director, stage manager, and actors, and we will be happy to cooperate with you on a show change, completely disregarding the other 1900 people that have tickets on the same night. YOU are my most important customer. In fact, when you ask for tickets to “Joseph and the Electrical Dreamcoat,” “Joseph and his Amazing Technicolor Overcoat,” “Joseph and His Amazing Dream Boat,” “Joseph and the Amazing Technology,” or even “Jose and his Colored Garments,” I won’t laugh at you, and I even might call up Andrew Lloyd Webber myself to ask him the reason why he didn’t simply call it “Joseph,” just for your sake. Just so you wouldn’t be embarrassed when you ask to see “Joseph Smith and His Coat.”
When you come to my window at intermission, shocked and ready to protest because of the offensive Potiphar’s wife scene, I will be prepared with the run-of-the-mill apology. I wouldn’t dream of telling you that the Potiphar’s wife seduction scene is in the bible, and Andrew Lloyd Webber wasn’t making it up. Have you ever read Genesis? Chapter 39. Good stuff. In fact, your scene may be the inspiration of a new policy: no refunds on content.
Since our productions are performed in an outdoor venue, I will try to explain to you that rain is very unpredictable in Southern Utah, so if it’s raining at 8 in the morning, chances are, it won’t be raining at 8 pm. We won’t be canceling the play because it started sprinkling twelve hours before showtime. I sincerely hope that doesn’t ruin your day. If, however, it is raining at showtime, I will understand you banging on my window for an immediate refund, along with the other two thousand people here. I am sorry, truly, deeply sorry that if the show is canceled because of rain, you have to fill out a “cancellation form” in order to receive a refund. But not as sorry as I am that your wife’s perm was ruined standing in the rain while you filled it out. Of course we will pay for your flight, your hotel, and your meals for the next three days as penance because of the rain. Yes, our computers are capable of giving you a refund if you don’t have the tickets, don’t have your credit card, don’t know who ordered the tickets, and don’t even know your own name. I am a box office employee, equipped with special detective skills, and I can decipher any information about you, from your birthday, social security number, and the name of your oldest child, just from looking at you. No, really, I can.
So walk away from my window, or hang up your phone, feeling good about yourself. I may be the Box Office Sales Representative that can do anything short of walk on water, but it’s okay for you to walk all over me. That’s what I’m here for. It’s okay.
Or is it?
Anyway, have a nice day.
…And more information about anything else, really. As a box office employee, I should be able to tell you at any moment, without the slightest hesitation, the rates at all the hotels in the area within a fifty mile radius, book your flight to Southern Utah, give you dating advice and tell you the weather forecast for the next three months. Thus, I will be personally responsible if it rains on the day I said it wouldn’t, if the hotel is full the day you booked your tickets, if your boyfriend breaks up with you, and if your plane crashes. I might even be able to pull a few strings and take care of the funeral arrangements. As a Sales Representative and Assistant Manager of the box office, I can do just about anything short of walk on water. But, with the special effects available to me at the outdoor amphitheater I work at, I might even be able to do that.
I love talking on the phone with you, especially when you shout at me, complain to me, interrupt me, put me on hold to answer another call, and eat lasagna in my ear. My favorite is when you let me know that you are unable to write down your confirmation number because you are in the bathroom. I have no concept of too much information, because I am a Box Office Sales Associate. By all means, don’t have your credit card handy when you call to order tickets: I love to wait for five minutes while you track it down.
I am definitely sympathetic when you call to get tickets for tomorrow night, which has been sold out for two weeks, and expect to get tickets on the front row. And yes, it does make a difference if you are from Red Mountain Spa. I will personally kick the other paying customers out of their seats for you: no, really, I will. You’re very welcome. It’s all part of the job.
Yes, I completely understand your expectations of cheap ticket prices and a Broadway-quality show at the same time. I feel your pain in my soul when your sale total comes to a hefty $500, and I shed a hypothetical tear when you exclaim “oh my butt!” after I tell you the ticket prices. I do not receive the slightest satisfaction when the board of directors raises ticket prices, because I know how it aggravates your already-festering ulcers. Of course I’ll give you a handsome discount: just not over the phone.
When you call and want to get tickets for Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat on a night that Beauty and the Beast plays, I will, of course, make a few calls to the director, stage manager, and actors, and we will be happy to cooperate with you on a show change, completely disregarding the other 1900 people that have tickets on the same night. YOU are my most important customer. In fact, when you ask for tickets to “Joseph and the Electrical Dreamcoat,” “Joseph and his Amazing Technicolor Overcoat,” “Joseph and His Amazing Dream Boat,” “Joseph and the Amazing Technology,” or even “Jose and his Colored Garments,” I won’t laugh at you, and I even might call up Andrew Lloyd Webber myself to ask him the reason why he didn’t simply call it “Joseph,” just for your sake. Just so you wouldn’t be embarrassed when you ask to see “Joseph Smith and His Coat.”
When you come to my window at intermission, shocked and ready to protest because of the offensive Potiphar’s wife scene, I will be prepared with the run-of-the-mill apology. I wouldn’t dream of telling you that the Potiphar’s wife seduction scene is in the bible, and Andrew Lloyd Webber wasn’t making it up. Have you ever read Genesis? Chapter 39. Good stuff. In fact, your scene may be the inspiration of a new policy: no refunds on content.
Since our productions are performed in an outdoor venue, I will try to explain to you that rain is very unpredictable in Southern Utah, so if it’s raining at 8 in the morning, chances are, it won’t be raining at 8 pm. We won’t be canceling the play because it started sprinkling twelve hours before showtime. I sincerely hope that doesn’t ruin your day. If, however, it is raining at showtime, I will understand you banging on my window for an immediate refund, along with the other two thousand people here. I am sorry, truly, deeply sorry that if the show is canceled because of rain, you have to fill out a “cancellation form” in order to receive a refund. But not as sorry as I am that your wife’s perm was ruined standing in the rain while you filled it out. Of course we will pay for your flight, your hotel, and your meals for the next three days as penance because of the rain. Yes, our computers are capable of giving you a refund if you don’t have the tickets, don’t have your credit card, don’t know who ordered the tickets, and don’t even know your own name. I am a box office employee, equipped with special detective skills, and I can decipher any information about you, from your birthday, social security number, and the name of your oldest child, just from looking at you. No, really, I can.
So walk away from my window, or hang up your phone, feeling good about yourself. I may be the Box Office Sales Representative that can do anything short of walk on water, but it’s okay for you to walk all over me. That’s what I’m here for. It’s okay.
Or is it?
Anyway, have a nice day.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Tagged
I've been tagged! What does that even mean? I wasn't aware I was even playing... oh well. One must follow the unbending rules of blogging. Here goes
Four jobs I've had in my life:
1) Worldwide Book Drive - book sorter
2) Tuacahn Box Office
3) Amber Lyn Chocolates
4) Pier 49 Pizza
Four movies I watch over and over:
1) Pride and Prejudice
2) The Importance of Being Earnest
3) The Mummy
4) Lord of the Rings - Return of the King
Four places I've lived:
1) Provo
2) Ivins
3) Santa Clara
4) Pleasant Grove
Four TV shows I'd watch forever:
1) The Office
2) 24
3) I Love Lucy
4) What Not to Wear
Four places I've been on vacation:
1) Southern Oregon
2) California (San Diego, Disneyland, etc.)
3) Nauvoo
4) Ohio
Four websites I visit frequently:
1) Gmail
2) Facebook
3) My Blog
4) byu.edu
Four of my favorite foods:
1) Chocolate
2) Rice pudding from Pudding on the Rice
3) Food from Bombay House
4) Fruit
Four places I'd rather be right now:
1) At a Jack Johnson concert
2) Zions National Park
3) Jason's Deli
4) At your mom's house
Four friends I am tagging:
1) No one
2) Whoever
3) Wants to
4) Be tagged
Now everyone go and fill out this survey NOW. If you don't have a blog, make one. :)
Four jobs I've had in my life:
1) Worldwide Book Drive - book sorter
2) Tuacahn Box Office
3) Amber Lyn Chocolates
4) Pier 49 Pizza
Four movies I watch over and over:
1) Pride and Prejudice
2) The Importance of Being Earnest
3) The Mummy
4) Lord of the Rings - Return of the King
Four places I've lived:
1) Provo
2) Ivins
3) Santa Clara
4) Pleasant Grove
Four TV shows I'd watch forever:
1) The Office
2) 24
3) I Love Lucy
4) What Not to Wear
Four places I've been on vacation:
1) Southern Oregon
2) California (San Diego, Disneyland, etc.)
3) Nauvoo
4) Ohio
Four websites I visit frequently:
1) Gmail
2) Facebook
3) My Blog
4) byu.edu
Four of my favorite foods:
1) Chocolate
2) Rice pudding from Pudding on the Rice
3) Food from Bombay House
4) Fruit
Four places I'd rather be right now:
1) At a Jack Johnson concert
2) Zions National Park
3) Jason's Deli
4) At your mom's house
Four friends I am tagging:
1) No one
2) Whoever
3) Wants to
4) Be tagged
Now everyone go and fill out this survey NOW. If you don't have a blog, make one. :)
Monday, March 19, 2007
today, for me
God made spring
for me
and all of his children, really
but today
just for me.
The warm sun fills me
with hope
hope that was covered by the cold
of winter, covered
by snow.
The birds talk about me
and my newfound hope
twittering back
and forth
andbackandforth
lifting me upwards
with their wings.
The snowcapped mountains
remind me of the season
now conquered by warmth
ice melted
sent back up
to the white-tipped tops
of the mountains.
How appropriate
is this season
for the raising of
the Son of God
the shouts of hallelujah
seem more fitting
when sung in spring.
Spring brings with it
raising
.of sun
..of spirit
...of hope
......of me.
God made spring
for me
today, just for me.
for me
and all of his children, really
but today
just for me.
The warm sun fills me
with hope
hope that was covered by the cold
of winter, covered
by snow.
The birds talk about me
and my newfound hope
twittering back
and forth
andbackandforth
lifting me upwards
with their wings.
The snowcapped mountains
remind me of the season
now conquered by warmth
ice melted
sent back up
to the white-tipped tops
of the mountains.
How appropriate
is this season
for the raising of
the Son of God
the shouts of hallelujah
seem more fitting
when sung in spring.
Spring brings with it
raising
.of sun
..of spirit
...of hope
......of me.
God made spring
for me
today, just for me.
heavy
it's darker than it was yesterday
the sunrise dull
small rays, fighting to break the grey
and failing.
no rain falls
just oppression of
the soul of sky
heavy
gravity is more pressing today
the line between the
ground and sky
is shrinking
clouds closer
blocking light
from the earth
heavy
my eyelids, more iron than skin
sinking over
my eyes
to blink is to work
pulling shades down
losing light
all i feel
heavy
the sunrise dull
small rays, fighting to break the grey
and failing.
no rain falls
just oppression of
the soul of sky
heavy
gravity is more pressing today
the line between the
ground and sky
is shrinking
clouds closer
blocking light
from the earth
heavy
my eyelids, more iron than skin
sinking over
my eyes
to blink is to work
pulling shades down
losing light
all i feel
heavy
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Random song lines
I wish I could say that I wrote this poem, but I didn't. Here are some great lines from some of my favorite artists. Every line is from a different song, and I put them together in a sort of cohesive manner. The person who can guess all the songs gets something really cool.
Every move you make, every step you take I'll be watchin' you
We go together like a wink and a smile
When my words kiss your ear I’ll be right here
I'm so afraid to love you, but more afraid to loose
I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you
If tomorrow's sun doesn't shine, at least I'll have my Clementine
And if I die today I'll be the happy phantom
And the daffodils look lovely today
Who'd have thought that love could be so caffeinated?
Yet you're afraid each thing I do is just some evil scheme
My love is not a bank statement
Maybe its just too late, I’ve got to get away
It's awful quiet here since love fell asleep
We'd hit the bottom, I thought it was my fault
Do you have to let it linger?
Call me when you’re sober
Suppose I kept on singing love songs just to break my own fall
I love ya 'cause you're such a prick
If you want to destroy my sweater, pull this thread as I walk away
Shuffle
I was walking to school the other day, thinking how cool it was that having an ipod is like having my very own theme music. I had been listening to Jack Johnson's song People Watching, lazily gazing at people at they walked by and wondering what made their lives interesting. At that point, my life was a little tedious, and I wished for something to spice it up a little. One little wish, that's all it was. I put my ipod on shuffle and walked along to the beat of Weezer's Island in the Sun. As I walked I noticed how unusually hot it was for 8am in Provo, and did a double take at some palm trees that I swear were large oaks yesterday. I took my jacket off because it was really too warm for a jacket and shrugged off the palm trees I had obviously not noticed until now. The song changed, and Dolores O'Riordan's voice filled my eardrums with the sounds of Zombie. All the sudden, the weather cooled again, so on went my jacket, and into the pockets went my hands. Was it just me, or were the people around me hurrying a bit faster? The expressions on their faces was a mixture of hostility and fear. I saw where the fear was coming from as I noticed the uniformed men with guns. What was happening? Sounds of gunshots and explosions began to fill my ears, getting closer and louder, and I started running for... I don't even know where. Class was the last thing on my mind. This was a matter of survival. My life was on the line. Breathing heavily, I crouched down next to an SUV, hoping it would all be over soon. I saw a man in uniform approach me, gun at ready. I started to run, but he yelled a warning for me to stay put or he'd shoot. I felt like I was going to thow up my heart, because I was nauseous and my heart was beating in my throat. He got closer, and all of the sudden the explosions stopped, the sun started shining and Michael Buble was singing For Once in My Life. The soldier, who was now in a khakis and a button-down shirt, looked strangely like Brad Pitt as he got down on one knee and pulled out a ring. My mind was rebelling, this was crazy! But I knew we would be happy together as I nodded yes and wiped away a tear. We danced in the street, and all the passers-by cheered. But alas, my happiness was short lived, as Ben Folds started singing Song for the Dumped. The soldier/Brad Pitt lookalike then asked for the ring back and asked for some "time apart." The tears on my face mingled with the falling rain, and I threw the ring at him and turned away, finding a baseball bat in my hand as I heard Carrie Underwood's Before He Cheats. I chuckled evilly to myself as I faced his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive, and swung away, leaving his truck looking like it had ended up on the wrong end of a wrecking ball. I felt empowered, vindicated, imagining the look on his face as he saw what I had done. I took one last swing, and as I did the headphones fell out of my ears and I was once again walking to class, no sign of baseball bats, bombs, or palm trees. I took one look at my ipod, walked to the nearest trash can, and threw it in.
Weird.
Weird.
Monday, March 5, 2007
Emily Dickinson's "Behind me-dips Eternity"
Behind me-dips Eternity
Before Me-Immortality-
Myself-the Term between-
Death but the Drift of Eastern Gray,
Dissolving into Dawn away,
Before the West begin-'Tis Kingdoms-afterward-
they say-
In perfect-pauseless Monarchy-
Whose Prince-is Son of None-
Himself-His Dateless Dynasty-
Himself-Himself diversify-
In Duplicate divine-'Tis Miracle before Me-then-
'Tis Miracle behind-between-
A Crescent in the Sea-
With Midnight to the North of Her-
And Midnight to the South of Her-
And Maelstrom-in the Sky-
I love this poem. I love the description of neverending existance, how there is much before us and much after us, and we, in this life, are standing between it all. My favorite image in the poem is the "Crescent in the Sea." What I see from this image is that the moon reflecting on the water represents heaven's reflection in my life. Though heaven is far away, we can all have the light from heaven, or the Light of Christ, reflecting in our own lives. Emily Dickinson is a genius!
Before Me-Immortality-
Myself-the Term between-
Death but the Drift of Eastern Gray,
Dissolving into Dawn away,
Before the West begin-'Tis Kingdoms-afterward-
they say-
In perfect-pauseless Monarchy-
Whose Prince-is Son of None-
Himself-His Dateless Dynasty-
Himself-Himself diversify-
In Duplicate divine-'Tis Miracle before Me-then-
'Tis Miracle behind-between-
A Crescent in the Sea-
With Midnight to the North of Her-
And Midnight to the South of Her-
And Maelstrom-in the Sky-
I love this poem. I love the description of neverending existance, how there is much before us and much after us, and we, in this life, are standing between it all. My favorite image in the poem is the "Crescent in the Sea." What I see from this image is that the moon reflecting on the water represents heaven's reflection in my life. Though heaven is far away, we can all have the light from heaven, or the Light of Christ, reflecting in our own lives. Emily Dickinson is a genius!
Monday, February 26, 2007
I face
This week, I face many obstacles. Although they may be daunting, I have the uncanny ability to survive weeks I initially don't think I can live through. I'm hoping this will prove true this week, for I face
*an 8-10 page research paper comparing Gl'Ingannati and Apolonius and Silla as sources to Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. (I haven't started this yet. Due Thursday) Crazy as it sounds, once I get going on this paper, I will probably enjoy it!
*a 5-6 page essay about one of Jorie Graham's poems, Tennessee June. Although this may not be due until next Wednesday, it's something I really need to start on
*Maus, a book by Art Spiegleman. For my English 314 class, the whole book is in comics, and it's about the Holocaust. Oh yeah, and the main characters in it are mice.
*A D&C midterm - not too worried, the professor made it clear that if we studied the questions he posted online, the questions on the midterm would be "verrrrrry similar." Still, another thing to do
*Research, and reading for my family history class
*The grocery store - let's face it, a girl needs to eat
*The DMV. My roommate's drivers' liscence, issued in Arizona, doesn't expire until 2051. Why, Utah, why?
These are the main things I need to do this week. I apologize, I really am not going to use this blog as my day planner, nor do I want sympathy, I just like to see down on paper (or online, in this case), exactly what I need to do. And right now school rules my life, obviously. Thankfully I have a job that I love or I would probably poke my eyes out :). Not that I don't love school, because I love learning, but sometimes I wonder if there were an easier way. Well, 24 calls my name....
*an 8-10 page research paper comparing Gl'Ingannati and Apolonius and Silla as sources to Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. (I haven't started this yet. Due Thursday) Crazy as it sounds, once I get going on this paper, I will probably enjoy it!
*a 5-6 page essay about one of Jorie Graham's poems, Tennessee June. Although this may not be due until next Wednesday, it's something I really need to start on
*Maus, a book by Art Spiegleman. For my English 314 class, the whole book is in comics, and it's about the Holocaust. Oh yeah, and the main characters in it are mice.
*A D&C midterm - not too worried, the professor made it clear that if we studied the questions he posted online, the questions on the midterm would be "verrrrrry similar." Still, another thing to do
*Research, and reading for my family history class
*The grocery store - let's face it, a girl needs to eat
*The DMV. My roommate's drivers' liscence, issued in Arizona, doesn't expire until 2051. Why, Utah, why?
These are the main things I need to do this week. I apologize, I really am not going to use this blog as my day planner, nor do I want sympathy, I just like to see down on paper (or online, in this case), exactly what I need to do. And right now school rules my life, obviously. Thankfully I have a job that I love or I would probably poke my eyes out :). Not that I don't love school, because I love learning, but sometimes I wonder if there were an easier way. Well, 24 calls my name....
Memories lost again
Fast approaches the time when
my mind says no
more, starts to go blank like
erasing notes from a chalkboard
they're gone from all recollection
beyond reach my thoughts swim
away in the gray matter to the place
in my brain I don't use
memory
where do memories go
after I forget them?
I need a flashlight to
show me where they're hid
what dark crevice they're tucked in
why do they run away
those elusive beasts
I prod in the dark
hands out, touching the walls
of my inner mind
trying to navigate the maze
where are they
why do they go
what must I do
to get them back
back
onto the chalkboard
my mind says no
more, starts to go blank like
erasing notes from a chalkboard
they're gone from all recollection
beyond reach my thoughts swim
away in the gray matter to the place
in my brain I don't use
memory
where do memories go
after I forget them?
I need a flashlight to
show me where they're hid
what dark crevice they're tucked in
why do they run away
those elusive beasts
I prod in the dark
hands out, touching the walls
of my inner mind
trying to navigate the maze
where are they
why do they go
what must I do
to get them back
back
onto the chalkboard
For Jenni
This is a silly, somewhat cliche poem I wrote in ten minutes for my friend. She's been through a lot when it comes to relationships, and I thought this poem expressed the hope she feels at a new interest....
Today I wrote my first name
attatched to your last
in the front cover
of my history textbook
"this book belongs to Jenni_____"
I felt cliche
but it felt good to be cliche
instead of heartbroken
like I was last month
the pieces of my hope
shattered in my chest
a piece by my liver
a piece in my foot
I thought it would be that way
indefinitely
but you made me smile
my first smile since Him
since the end
of something I thought would
last forever
last forever... could we?
you elevate me
I see your face in the moon
the shooting star catches
my wish
starlightstarbrightfirststarIseetonight
....please?
Today I wrote my first name
attatched to your last
in the front cover
of my history textbook
"this book belongs to Jenni_____"
I felt cliche
but it felt good to be cliche
instead of heartbroken
like I was last month
the pieces of my hope
shattered in my chest
a piece by my liver
a piece in my foot
I thought it would be that way
indefinitely
but you made me smile
my first smile since Him
since the end
of something I thought would
last forever
last forever... could we?
you elevate me
I see your face in the moon
the shooting star catches
my wish
starlightstarbrightfirststarIseetonight
....please?
To Be New
This is a poem I'm planning on workshopping in my creative writing class next week. I am extremely nervous about this, because it means exposing my poetry to the critic's eye... I just recently started writing poetry, so I am definitely new to this whole workshop thing. So, any comments on this poem, advice to make it better, would be welcome.
To Be New
If only I could see the world again
Feel the jolt, the first crack of light
To take that first shaky breath
And announce to the world
I’m new here
To feel the first caress of a mother’s hand
To see her face, alive
Not to stand above her by six feet
Fast approaching my own earth
To grin in delight for the very first time
And break the silence with a laugh
To discover my hands at then end of my arms
My toes at the end of my feet
To taste them, my very own limbs
Bending in half
Without snapping in two
Agile, not brittle. Pliable, not tough.
To have plump flesh covering my bones
My skin transparent shows highways of blue
Veins to count like rings in a tree
One two buckle my shoe three four open the door
To a cold blast of wind carrying with it
A notice of expiration, the late fee unpaid
Time to turn in my effects
Get off the train
My stop is next.
To Be New
If only I could see the world again
Feel the jolt, the first crack of light
To take that first shaky breath
And announce to the world
I’m new here
To feel the first caress of a mother’s hand
To see her face, alive
Not to stand above her by six feet
Fast approaching my own earth
To grin in delight for the very first time
And break the silence with a laugh
To discover my hands at then end of my arms
My toes at the end of my feet
To taste them, my very own limbs
Bending in half
Without snapping in two
Agile, not brittle. Pliable, not tough.
To have plump flesh covering my bones
My skin transparent shows highways of blue
Veins to count like rings in a tree
One two buckle my shoe three four open the door
To a cold blast of wind carrying with it
A notice of expiration, the late fee unpaid
Time to turn in my effects
Get off the train
My stop is next.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
random google search!
Yay for random google searches! Here's the deal - do a google search with your name and "needs," and write down the first 10 results! So funny!
Natalie needs:
1. a nightie
2. to give John space
3. to move on
4. to shut her mouth and just sing!
5. wide open spaces
6. a vacation
7. some work
8. to lighten up
9. kids around her
10. to hear this live concert!
haha.... I love randomness. Actually, I do need a vacation. And I wouldn't turn down a live concert either.
Natalie needs:
1. a nightie
2. to give John space
3. to move on
4. to shut her mouth and just sing!
5. wide open spaces
6. a vacation
7. some work
8. to lighten up
9. kids around her
10. to hear this live concert!
haha.... I love randomness. Actually, I do need a vacation. And I wouldn't turn down a live concert either.
Wishing Up
Gliding above trees, like Peter Pan
A sweet-faced baby girl grins
Happiness never sleeps
Beauty smiles, beauty glows, beauty shows
The jelly-bean green blade of grass, pointing up
At an old lady looking out the window
Somewhat ordinary, despite her clear blue eyes
Filled with tears, glistening
Seeing the daughter she never raised.
Gliding above trees, like Peter Pan
A sweet-faced baby girl grins
Happiness never sleeps
Beauty smiles, beauty glows, beauty shows
The jelly-bean green blade of grass, pointing up
At an old lady looking out the window
Somewhat ordinary, despite her clear blue eyes
Filled with tears, glistening
Seeing the daughter she never raised.
This is my first attempt ever at writing a poem following a specific form - it's a Shakespearan sonnet. Whenever you want a very strenuous mental exercise, write a sonnet!
Morning Comes
The mirror of night reflects a sense of shame,
A shadow hid behind the perfect scene,
Concealed beneath a picture in a frame,
A secret life, which looks to others clean.
The shards of sin, they pierce into the soul,
Outside the moon climbs up across the sky
As guilt erodes, leaves nothing but a hole
The void that wolves fill with their lone reply
Of hate, of pain, of aching loneliness.
And yet, the sound of morning fills the air,
The dawn brings hope, a bittersweet caress,
As sunlight strokes the cheek with tender care.
I ache from wrongs made in careless play,
A new day comes to cleanse the pain away.
Morning Comes
The mirror of night reflects a sense of shame,
A shadow hid behind the perfect scene,
Concealed beneath a picture in a frame,
A secret life, which looks to others clean.
The shards of sin, they pierce into the soul,
Outside the moon climbs up across the sky
As guilt erodes, leaves nothing but a hole
The void that wolves fill with their lone reply
Of hate, of pain, of aching loneliness.
And yet, the sound of morning fills the air,
The dawn brings hope, a bittersweet caress,
As sunlight strokes the cheek with tender care.
I ache from wrongs made in careless play,
A new day comes to cleanse the pain away.
Another poem, I wrote this one for my creative writing class.
Bruise
it is a part of me
but not really
the color of grape jelly
with a tinge of spinach,
rotten bananas and
blueberry pie
a putrescent fruit basket
sitting in all its glory
on my shin
reminding me
that I have a coffee table
and it hurts
it started off
shaped like a crescent
now a full moon
it spreads and thinks
that it owns me
but not really
a part of me
Bruise
it is a part of me
but not really
the color of grape jelly
with a tinge of spinach,
rotten bananas and
blueberry pie
a putrescent fruit basket
sitting in all its glory
on my shin
reminding me
that I have a coffee table
and it hurts
it started off
shaped like a crescent
now a full moon
it spreads and thinks
that it owns me
but not really
a part of me
This is rough draft of a poem I wrote randomely one day. It expresses, I think, the frustration girls in general feel when they like boys. Feedback would be great!
Denial
I am a selfish person
and I hate for someone
to occupy my thoughts so entirely
it’s frustrating, I need to study
I need to stop biting my nails
I might as well just give in
And start writing your name
In my creative writing notebook
I don’t even know your last name
But your eyes are so blue
Wait. Stop! I don’t even like you
I just met you
And I definitely didn’t
Spend extra time in front of the mirror
Just for you. And if I did
Spend extra time in front of the mirror
It wasn’t for you. I like to look nice
And I didn’t drive by your apartment
Hoping to see a glimpse of you
And if I did drive by your apartment
It was the fastest route to work
So don’t even bother calling
I’ll probably turn off my phone
I’ll turn up my music
The Cranberries will help me to forget
Not that I even remember
I’ll start writing poetry about the sun
And stop writing this poem about you
I’ll push you out of my thoughts
And not sit across from you at church
Just so I can see you
I liked it better when my thoughts
Were only of other things
Like Jack Johnson, eyeshadow and books
I liked it better when I didn’t have to
Write a poem to figure myself out
Or when I could listen to a love song
Without a specific person in mind
I told you I was selfish
I just want things my way
You’re probably not my type
I’m going to be in control
I’m going to do my homework
Shakespeare, research papers, and other stuff
More worthwhile
I’m not even going to think about you
Starting tomorrow.
Denial
I am a selfish person
and I hate for someone
to occupy my thoughts so entirely
it’s frustrating, I need to study
I need to stop biting my nails
I might as well just give in
And start writing your name
In my creative writing notebook
I don’t even know your last name
But your eyes are so blue
Wait. Stop! I don’t even like you
I just met you
And I definitely didn’t
Spend extra time in front of the mirror
Just for you. And if I did
Spend extra time in front of the mirror
It wasn’t for you. I like to look nice
And I didn’t drive by your apartment
Hoping to see a glimpse of you
And if I did drive by your apartment
It was the fastest route to work
So don’t even bother calling
I’ll probably turn off my phone
I’ll turn up my music
The Cranberries will help me to forget
Not that I even remember
I’ll start writing poetry about the sun
And stop writing this poem about you
I’ll push you out of my thoughts
And not sit across from you at church
Just so I can see you
I liked it better when my thoughts
Were only of other things
Like Jack Johnson, eyeshadow and books
I liked it better when I didn’t have to
Write a poem to figure myself out
Or when I could listen to a love song
Without a specific person in mind
I told you I was selfish
I just want things my way
You’re probably not my type
I’m going to be in control
I’m going to do my homework
Shakespeare, research papers, and other stuff
More worthwhile
I’m not even going to think about you
Starting tomorrow.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
I'm new at this....
I was under extreme pressure to create a blog by my lovely little sister Jessica, so finally I decided to give in. First of all, let me address the reason why I chose "unconsciously me" as my blog title. Okay. I hate when people ask me to "describe myself in three words" or to tell them "what is one thing that makes you unique from anyone else" blah blah, you know what I mean. It's not like I don't know who I am, but can I describe it? no. Can I put my finger on what it is? no. I am me - unconsciously. There. :)
And since today is Valentine's Day, (oh, heart) I wanted to say how much it annoys me when people are bitter against V-day because they don't have a "love." Valentine's day celebrates LOVE; it doesn't have to be romantic love. Sister love, parent love, roommate love, friend love. It's all love. So what better way is there to celebrate Valentine's day than to spend it with the people that you love? Everyone, no matter how lonely they think they are, has someone who loves them.
Since this is already a very random blog, I'm going to add another tidbit. My main purpose in starting this blog is to write more. I am an English major, and I would love to someday be a writer. So, I have to have experience! This is a little bit of a start. It's more for my benefit than for anyone else's, but if anyone takes the time to read any poetry or prose that I post on this blog, I would love any feedback. Tell me what you think!
And since today is Valentine's Day, (oh, heart) I wanted to say how much it annoys me when people are bitter against V-day because they don't have a "love." Valentine's day celebrates LOVE; it doesn't have to be romantic love. Sister love, parent love, roommate love, friend love. It's all love. So what better way is there to celebrate Valentine's day than to spend it with the people that you love? Everyone, no matter how lonely they think they are, has someone who loves them.
Since this is already a very random blog, I'm going to add another tidbit. My main purpose in starting this blog is to write more. I am an English major, and I would love to someday be a writer. So, I have to have experience! This is a little bit of a start. It's more for my benefit than for anyone else's, but if anyone takes the time to read any poetry or prose that I post on this blog, I would love any feedback. Tell me what you think!
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