Dancing with the spectres

Somehow I thought it would be different,
staring into the chasm and the void,
but the winds are still howling, smashing,
and bringing me no closer to the place
I wish to go.

Somehow I thought I would be stronger,
after tempests and struggles and wars,
but I'm just another animal lost in the void
with no way to get me closer to the place
I wish to go.

Somehow I thought you'd be here by now,
showing me the sun and the stars,
but I'm just another face in the crowd of
empty faces no closer to the place
I wish to go.

I don't know. Just some random thoughts. I'm having..... I don't know. I guess things will develop how there are meant to.

Dreamland

Sooooooo... last night I had the most terrifying dream ever. It was so scary. So of course now I'm thinking of trying to turn it into a story! yay! One that hopefully I will actually keep writing. *sigh* I need to make myself commit to my stories.

Dagoba

"You shall no longer take things at second or third hand,
nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self"

Walt Whitman


I have started my own kind of journey. My journey for truth, for wisdom, for knowledge. I have spent far too long of my life taking what other people said at face value. I have become a highly eudcated 22 year old who knows nothing. The more I study, the more I see of the world and things in it, the less I realize I know. I have decided to no longer let other people tell me what things say. I'm not going to let other educated people inform me what the Qu'ran says, I'm reading it for myself. I'm not going to let politicians tell what policies reflect Communism, I shall read the Communist Manifesto. The world is full of many peoples and many understandings of the way things are. Who am I to say that my way, the way that I have grown up with, is the right one?

This is not to say that I will not share, discuss, and take in the opinions of those that I know and respect. That would be foolish. However, I have decided that I must not simply let others tell me what things are, and how I am to believe.

no. just.... no

Ann Coulter is a dumbass.

That's it. I just had to post it.

She is retarded dumbass.

Ok, I'm done now. Really

Shall we fly away from here?

Alrighty folks! Well, I shall be posting bit by bit a story I am developing. And here we go!

Lilith

The innumerable choir of crickets sang out their night sonata. It filled the forest and echoed off the sides of the valley. The trees stood stoic and silent their thick, broad arms reaching desperately to the unanswering heavens. Twilight fell upon the endless ocean of trees, the dwindling rays of light struggling to push their way past the thick, impregnable canopy. Below the ceiling of bark and green, life was changing shifts. The bright birds that sang their songs in the day snuggled down into their feather-lined beds, tucking their beaks and softly chirping a few last refrains. Their cheerful notes were replaced by the eerie hooting of owls, their wide yellow eyes searching tirelessly for a mouse, powerful silent wings beating the night air. In every tree, bush, and hole dug into the ground, the animals of the light were settling in. Stomachs full from a day of foraging, they hunkered down for the night warm from the heat of their neighbor's form. Far below the canopy the great night hunter began to prowl. Silent and patient, her movements were deliberate and calculated. Using the growing darkness to shield herself from detection, she gracefully slid through the dense undergrowth, watching and waiting. Coming upon a clearing in the forest, the poignant smell of fresh prey invaded every sense she had, and the hunter paused, sinking lower and lower into the tall grass. Sitting around a crackling fire, two men sat laughing and boasting about their own kills.

"Dan, were you paying any attention at all today? I hit her square in the middle of the face!"

"Yeah, Steve, whatever. It was a lucky shot."

"Lucky?" Steve's coarse laughter split the nighttime still of the forest. "Luck had nothing to do with it my friend. I don't know why you're so upset anyway. You had a kill too."

"Yeah but I wanted the doe. Stupid Bambi wasn't even a challenge. It just stood there staring down at its mother's brains. You stole my shot and you know it."

"Dude, look. We both got a deer, and we are having ourselves a nice tasty dinner. Stop your bitching and let's have some fun."

Dan mumbled something under his breath but the matter was dropped and both men settled back into slicing meat off their kills alternately salting some to stick on the fire. Others they wrapped and placed in a large sack. The smell of the sliced venison slid across the breeze, wrapping the huntress in the scent of the blood. Mouth watering, her mouth parted to reveal her sharp fangs. Sitting ducks they were, these two drunkards. They wouldn't have a chance. As the men laughed over the sizzling meat, a growl ripped through the forest...

Can anyone else see that blinding light?

This doesn't have a name yet.... it is a snapshot.

How could this be,
this surely can't be real.
This wasn't meant to happen,
in a way I hoped it never would.
Safe within the world of words
I lived day after day,
abstractly hoping for you to come
but wishing stronger for you to stay away.
Sentences are safe, are sure,
the rules stand firm and strong.
Structure lives in and on and around
the pages, they weave inward, outward
gripping me tightly as they sing their knowing tone.
But my land full of known and wondrous things
doesn't brush a hand across my cheek.
There are no rules dictating how I must feel
when your lips whisper those words to me.
Your skin, rougher than my own
glides and softly molds to my own:
hair so black, like silken onyx,
twines so effortlessly through my fingers.
Fear pulsates through my veins,
terror grips fiercely at my heart.
You are not predictable,
this feeling, these passions are out of my control.
I want you more than I could spell
with words thought of long ago,
but you don't fit between my pages,
you don't confine to my safe, meatphorical world.

Dear chaos, it's me, Sara

Today I stood in my room for 15 minutes just contemplating the disaster that it is in.... just wondering what to do. Everything is in a state of disorganization. I want it clean. CLEAN! But I don't have the slightest idea of how to attack it, so it remains status quo. It stays a disaster and I avoid it at all costs.

My life is in total shambles I feel. I know what I need to do... I think. I don't want stability, or anything that lofty in my life, but I do have dreams, wonderful dreams that I want to become reality but all I do is stand and stare at them, begging me to make them a reality. I have no idea how to reach out and grab them... I'm so afraid to just take the plunge.

So my room, and my life .... status quo.

Chaotic, yet never moving.

I'm ready for movement, I'm ready for true, unadultered chaos.

There is nothing stable in the world; uproar's your only music. ~John Keats

Bring on the storm

Haze

I am confused. Confusion has become the state I live in. I want it to end.

Blah, blah, blah

Sometimes I feel like the most foolish person there is in this world. I can contemplate the relationships historically between 3 events that occurred thousands of years apart but I can't seem to have any idea on how to not be alone. I am tired. I am tired of hoping for things that will never be and forgetting every single time how it stings.

I'm tired. And sad. And done.

And so it is.....

Please play....
let the music flood over and round
and into my soul.
My lids slide shut, pulse thumping,
thump thump. thump thump.
Please sing....
let your words enrapture
my heart, my inmost yearnings.
My limbs tingle with passion,
with song. with despair.
You speak to me without uttering
the smallest of syallbles
and I crave more
than any should have any right to.
Miles and seas, and oceans
and rivers between...
I ache for a touch, voice, face unseen.
Please play....
Please sing....
and let me write you a note.
A note that lives then dies....
laughs and then cries....
loves and then lies.
And so it is,
the colder water,
the words that smolder,
the soul that wanders.

Will knit for tattoos

Today has been a day of thinking. Thinking about things that I want.

I want a tattoo.
I want to be a writer.
I want to have a bakery some day.
I want a boyfriend.

Think, think, think, think, think.
Dream, dream, dream, dream, dream.

I feel like that is all my life has become. I think and dream constantly, but everything always seems to far out of reach. I want to be a writer. I want to write stories and share them with others. so........ I think constantly about this storyline or that or how a book would sound, would anyone buy it. I never actually write a book.

I think about having a boyfriend, about being in a relationship, about holding hands and having fun. But that's all. I don't meet new people, put myself in situations to meet new people, nothing. I just think about it, and hope that maybe a suitable man will fall from the sky and land next to me.

I was once told that I have beautiful dreams.

I am terrified that that is all my life has become. Beautiful dreams that will forever swim around in the far reaches of my brain. I want an herb garden, sunflowers......but I never quite get around to making it happen. I have been living my life in hypotheticals.

I'm scared. I'm terrified of doing anything. I have frozen in fear and never gotten unstuck. I'm drowning in a pool of rainbows. My good ideas and good intentions have begun to choke out the life in me because they have nothing to do with my actual life. Someone observing me living day to day would never know the wonders that go on inside me because I never let them reach the surface, I never let them influence how I actually live.

And I am finished. I am finished being afraid of living. I'm tired of lying low and keeping safe.

I am not meant to live in a box.

Sweet Nothings

I'm not sure why I thought it would be different this time.
I'm not sure why I still thought the time, that it mattered.
I'm not sure why I'm surprised, shocked, hurt....
this is how it is.
This is how friendship is played out,
this is how being alone becomes a prefered state.
I'm not sure why I thought you wouldn't let me down,
why I still think maybe it's just all my paranoid thought.

I really thought that I had completely given up on the human species. I did. I thought that my cynacism had reached a height that protected me from this kind of utter surprise at yet another person in my life tossing me to the wayside because some boy twinkled his eyes at her and told her she was the prettiest girl in the room. But it hit me square in the face, and I wasn't ready.

Showers!

Showers. Those things you take, hopefully daily, that enable other people to be within 5 feet of you without vomiting.

They are also not even close to what this blog is about.

Wedding showers!

Molly's wedding shower was today. I felt like I was oozing estrogen. It was unbelievable. I haven't felt like that much of a girl in a long time. I giggled, a lot, and ooooed and awwwwwed over potholders and bowls and mixers. A kitchen aid mixer folks!! Those things are bitchin! Have you ever used one? If not, don't judge. If you have, then you know....you know.

Anway, the point of this blog? Not sure. I just feel like posting one. If you need a point, I will provide you one I supose.....

when you tie the knot, register for a Kitchen Aid mixer. They rock.

Epidemic!

Ok, so I have a beef with a certain group of American citizens.

This is for them.

DRIVE THE FREAKING SPEEDLIMIT!!!!!

I mean seriously people, I understand those individuals who don't speed. I try not to as well. I'm unemployed. I can't afford a ticket. But I can't even tell you the number of people I have driven behind lately that are going at least 5mph UNDER the speedlimit. Really?! Are you trying to make my head explode? Do you want me to unleash my mind powers on your unsuspecting vehicle? Cause I will do it. I will. Don't even test me.

Where are you, flightless bird?

Today was a lonely day. Not a bad day, a sad day, or a for nothing day... just lonely. I long to write a love song, or diddy, or think of love at all without the element of unknown. I wish to see a face instead of dream of a formless, unknown persona whose soul sings in harmony with mine. But he remains a mystery as yet unsolved......

Touch my cheek with your hand, not your words;
make me believe your talking eyes,
your lips aren't for speaking now.
I don't need fancy lines of flowing syallables,
please just twirl me round and round under the stars;
make me believe your talking eyes,
your lips aren't for speaking now.

Entwine my hair 'twen your rough hewn fingers,
trace your thoughts upon my skin;
make me trust your talking eyes,
your lips aren't for lying now.
Lift me up on winds of passion, round stars and moon,
and under clouds of mingled perfumes;
make me high with your talking eyes,
your lips aren't for storytelling now.

Lay me down on pillows of soft, weightless air,
cover me with you, all of you, keeping nothing back;
make me feel safe with your talking eyes,
your lips aren't for promises now.