Thursday, December 31, 2009

No Chance To Be A Friend

She'd be the best friend in the world- loyal, kind, always up for whatever you are, if only you gave her a chance.

Sadly, no one does.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

We're Going Down

You ask why should we, because everyone knows we're going to fail.

I ask why not, because we might just change the world while trying.

Gold-Rimmed Pedestal

I put you on so high a pedestal that you'd need a fire ladder to get you down.

But then the fire ladder came, along with the fire truck, the fire men, the police sirens, and a flagman to wave you down.

Sunday, December 27, 2009


Why is it we blame others for our own mistakes, but blame ourselves for everything out of our control?

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Crossing Fingers for a Fairytale Ending

I'm crossing my fingers, as if waiting for the letter and number in Bingo that will have me winning it all.

B14. B14. B14.

Fairytale ending. Fairytale ending. Fairytale ending.

Cost of Choice

There's always a choice.

It's just the price that differs.

Realizing Your Faults

Life is made up of choices. Mostly yours. It's always a good time to realize just how much of your things-gone-wrong is really your fault, and start owning up to it.

Birthday Wish

Last year, my only wish was for you to live for my birthday.

Now a year has past, and though you kept your promise valiantly, I realize that I still must go through a birthday without you.

Pathetic Fallacy

There's something in me that wants to defy the sky. It wants me to wear yellow on an overcast day, make everyone laugh on a rainy one, and sleep through class on a sunny day.

I don't know what that part of me goes on. I can't even contemplate why, but a simple answer is that I am the way I am, and this kind of stuff is normal for me.

And yet, maybe there is a reason. Maybe that part of me wants to defy everything I've read, to prove to itself and myself that life doesn't have to be ruled by pathetic fallacies.

Friday, December 25, 2009


Hush, because I find myself and what I have to say more important than you.

Happy Ending

All these stories, all these lies. All because everyone wants some kind of happy ending, and making them up now is better than not having any at all.

Holiday Spirit

The rain falls down; it should be snow, but it seems the sky isn't feeling the holiday spirit. But that's okay, because she doesn't blame it. Though the festive lights shine bright, it still doesn't seem like Christmas, even with the presents opened of their wrapping.

Christmas was supposed to be bright, cheerful. No fighting, no yelling, no scolding.

Holiday spirit was all around, but what good was that when it couldn't penetrate? When it couldn't step over the threshold with a merry "Ho! Ho! Ho!" and lighten up everything inside?

None. None at all.

And maybe that was what made up the center of the dark, cold knot in her stomach- that there was all this spirit, but none wanted to keep her company.

The Yearly Christmas

Before the presents are even handed out, the first fight-of-the-day breaks out. There's screaming, crying, yelling, pleading, accusing.

Ah, Christmas! At least it's consistent.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

I'll Keep Trying to Make You All Happy

Oh it is poison, this greed, this need  to make others happy.

When comes the time when making others happy to make yourself happy begins to strangle you?

Monday, December 21, 2009

I (heart) My Dad

They'll all laugh and say its not true.

But I love you dad, the one and only you.

The Forgotten Importance

It's the things you promise to remember forever that fade and are forgotten.

And its the things that seem so insignificant that stick strong, calling out to you forevermore.

The Cold

It's snowing out, but it's not cold. I have to wonder if it is because I am warm that I cannot feel the cold, or if I'm just so much colder than it.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Flow of Tears

Why do the tears continue to come after I've finally cleaned the sting of them from my eyes? It is as if they are repenting for my dismissal of them.

I wish they'd stop, so I could begin to move on.

Thursday, December 17, 2009


Sometimes the smallest of things need the biggest of thanks. Once I was told that the reason why we wave to drivers who let us cut in or pass is that if we don't, the person might feel their action was unacknowledged, and may not do something as nice again.

Small things lead to the big things. How can we get anywhere if we don't thank the person who switched washed clothes to the dryer in the middle of the night so we'd have clothes the next day,or when our parents consider a new coat, but deny it for the reason of it not being enough protection against the cold, or when they bring a hot chocolate for you when it is chilly outside?

It's not just about saying thanks for the big things, sometimes its the itty-bitty things that you might not even see. The things that make up the basis of our lives, even if we don't realize it.

The Things We Miss

We pass millions of things every day, and most of them we don't notice. We don't notice the slight details on a fallen leaf, or the amazing grace of a bumblebee. Maybe once we did, in that far off place where we hadn't needed to rush to anything. Not anymore. And so the millions of things we pass without noticing remain as so- simple things. Until someone notices it. Then it becomes something else, something new, something with a purpose and a name.

Give a thing attention, give it the magic to be more than it seems to everyone else.


You shine. You shine like the stars, the moon, the sun.

So how is it you cannot see your light, as bright as it is?

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Last Christmas

Last Christmas, I thought maybe, just maybe, you'd be the one to break the three-year curse. I had my doubts, sure I did, but I had my hope too, which I didn't have for anyone else.

Maybe it was just a pipe dream. A vain try at changing that which is set.

And maybe I'm the poison, for it seems the only constants in this curse are my eventual loneliness, and your disintegration.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Maybe it's Time to Be Other People

It's okay for you to try out other people, stretch your limits, test out a new character in a new plot in a new world. Just remember, you are who you are, and one day you will have to return to yourself. Yourself will remember your dances with other persona, the tricks you did, the thoughts that ran through your head. Just be careful to make sure you will be able to return in one piece, that the memories you have from being other people don't turn into nightmares. You may only be other people for a short time, but yourself is forever with you.

Sunday, December 13, 2009


I keep on hoping, every time I go around those rats, mice, and rabbits I desperately want to hold, that I am no longer allergic to them. I wonder every time I see a piece of watermelon I truly want to taste, if my throat will still close if I take a bite of it. I dream of a summer that I will be able to roll in the fields and not worry of itchy eyes and runny noses.

But I don't think I'll ever be able to do these things. And I realize I'll never be able to be with you.

You are the allergen.You can kill me, suffocate me in my sleep. I need to stay away from you. But you make it ever so hard, and I'm sorely tempted to risk it all.

Misplaced Names

If you'd just listen to what I'd say, maybe you'd realize that all those names you've called me are all wrong.

And that maybe all those names you've called yourself were really meant for me.

And as for those lost words not applying to me? Maybe you should adopt them. They'd suit you better.


And if you must, sleep near your nightlight tonight. Then you know that, no matter what day it is, no matter what time it is, you will wake to the bright.


Where's the light in the deep dark room?

It's there, do not panic, do not doubt. Where there is shadow, there must be light. It just might take some good, hard looking to find it.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Different Fairytales

You can live in your fairytale of stinging alcoholics and smoky drugs, and I'll live in mine made up of nothing but my imagination and my secret wishes.

We'll see who comes out better for it.

Watch Sare surpass us both.

Call Me When You're Sober

I am not mad at you. You may do with your life what you will, as long as you do not try dragging me down with you. Talk to me when you're sober in all sense of the word, because I don't want to talk to someone who's words are slurred and misspelled. Not when they were once my friend, my sister.

Monday, December 7, 2009

Another Stone already Cast into the Sea

It didn't take me long to figure out I can't trust you anymore.

What took me so long was to realize that I never trusted you in the first place.

My Suspicions

Stop telling me that I don't know what I'm talking about, that I'm just paranoid. Stop messing with my mind, making me doubt myself instead of you.

I already know the answer, I don't need you to confirm it. Your protests won't save you now. I see right through your brightly colored mask, and I know what I see is true, even if I'm the only one who does.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Dial Tone

You don't realize it now, and I don't really expect you to.

But one day, one day real soon, when you call you'll just get the answering machine. And I'll never seem to be around to return your calls.

Friday, December 4, 2009

Falling, Falling... Ground.

I fell off a horse last night. Jake (or as I call him, Bun-Bun [do not ask why]). He's a meanie, but still a good horse. I was bareback riding him, trotting, and lost my balance after getting too confident (I seriously thought I was doing good). Right in front of my mom too.

Apparently I pitched forward and grabbed onto Jake's neck, then slid off onto the ground. Jake is a good boy, and I can prove this as he stopped immediately when I fell (or before, as Sare thinks that it was him slowing down when I lost my balance that helped me fall).

He didn't trample me, which was great, honestly. And I was still holding onto his reins so I'm sure if he kept going, I'd have dragged along. When I was on the floor of the arena, I barely knew what happened. I can see the picture above happening to me.

Got right back on him though, which probably scared my mom even more.

The Real World Dating

Where to start? Where to start? At the beginning, you say? Well, there's not really a beginning, just a few events. The first event then? Sure, sure.(I decided to split this into two posts, since one event is totally unrelated lol)

So Rae, Sare and I were waiting for our parents to get into the car so we could head off to riding. Rae told us of the blue-contacts boy that keeps asking her out and his newest try at it. Sare commented that it was odd to ask someone out to dinner, to which Rae and I responded with a curious look and the same response; "That's what happens normally, actually."

We meant out of high school, of course. A good difference between high school and the "real world"- "Going out" is different than "Going steady" and one tends to ask for a few dates before one becomes exclusive. Or so we've heard, since we're not yet out of high school (just wait! Nearly half a year!)

So we had a long conversation on this topic.

Today, after having an... interesting time at the bakery, I waited in the bus shelter. I had rushed out of the house this morning unable to find many important things; my coat, my hat (part of the uniform of the bakery), and my Oryx and Crake book. I'd have to do without them (I borrowed one of the spare hats without anyone noticing, though it was a close call). So, in freezing temperatures, I was, well, "As cold as the north pole, heck, I could BE the north pole" (as I told Sare this morning).

Usually I can wait alone, as everyone gets on the bus that comes just before I'm allowed to leave. Today, a guy came in after me and stood at the opposite end of the shelter (by the opening), and he was followed by an older man.

"Excuse me," said the older man. I'm zoned out and so it takes a moment to realize he wants to sit down, and I'm partially blocking the way. Whoops.

"Thank you. Cold, isn't it?" He continues. I smile and nod.

"Very cold." I reply.

The other guy speaks up- college/university student, perhaps. Or maybe a little older. Going the wrong way from the nearest University though, as the Uni bus we're all waiting for (or any of the three other buses that come about, really) are going East, not West.

"Unless you have a coffee, then you're warm."

I smile slightly, I'm facing out, kind of away from both of them though, towards where the bus will be coming in too long of a time. It's always awkward at bus stops when others are around.

"I had a Timmies coffee earlier this morning," says the older man. The conversation dies. After a long bout of silence, the bus is in view, turning off the University street. I do not wish to squeeze past these two fellows, so I wait until the older man decides its time to get up (as the bus is at a red light). When he is gone, I wait a second more for I have no coat and it will still be a good minute before the bus arrives. When I do attempt to leave, the maybe-college/uni-student stops me.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if you have a boyfriend?" He asks. This throws me for a loop, though I have a suspicion of what comes next, but that's at the back of my mind and has to go through mid-morning traffic to get to the front.

"Um... no." I reply.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go out some time," he asks me. Again, I pause because I don't know what to say. I'm shocked. Many thoughts are colliding- "Oh my gosh, this is a strange coincidence D:", "Imagine if I did! I wonder how my parents would react if they ever found out", "Is this seriously happening?", "He seems kind of older. Does he realize I'm only a Senior in high school?", "Ah! My bus is coming!"

So, naturally, I say "no, thank you." and leave. Oh, smooth me. I get on the bus, and he stays in the shelter. I'm wondering if I'm regretting saying no, but I'm pretty good at talking myself out of things like this.

And the responses of incredulous and surprised "Really? You're kidding right? You?" and "Seriously???" from my friends (namely Rae and Sare) go even further to convince me that I made the right choice.

But it made my day. So, guys who are wondering about asking a girl out at a bus stop, you might want to think about introducing yourself (I never even got his name!), but I'm sure that even if you're rejected, you made someone's day. And that tends to be my motivation for many things I do, so that's good.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

The Small Things

I have learned to keep the small, otherwise overlooked things to myself,
because everyone has stolen so many things from me, I'm scared if I draw attention to these things, they'll steal them too.

And then what would I be left with?

Wasted Potential

You have so much, yet you don't realize it. You have the ability to do whatever you ever wanted to do, or help others accomplish the same thing. You have the power to change the world. How can you not realize this potential?

How did you fall to pieces, and not know it? How did you give up so easily and succumb to such temptation? Such stupid temptation?

You always swore you'd never drink away your woes. You always said that you'd never set your life up in a flame and inhale the poison of its destruction. You had such aspirations. Where did those go? How did they lose themselves? Is the sea too deep? Is the smoke too thick?

Why didn't you call for help? Why didn't you tell us, talk to us, speak a word to us? All we wanted to do was help you, and now you are hurting yourself. Not just yourself. Us too. And all those people you could have helped, but now won't, because all of it will go to fueling your sea and your smoke, and you don't even realize it.

Good bye, my friend. Good luck on your sail. Your ship has numerous holes in it, part of me still wishes for you to find them and plug them all.

Monday, November 30, 2009

Bitter-Sweet Freedom

People speak of freedom as something heavenly. Something that is great and awesome. I agree, do not doubt this. Freedom is something necessary.

I have freedom, in a way. I can come and go at any time, and eventually my parents will stop yelling, stop asking questions. If something gets too much, I can leave and find a different place to stay. I can walk out, I can walk in. I can basically do what I wish. This is freedom, is it not?

But what most don't realize when they see my freedom, when I smile and tell them I can go anywhere, do whatever, and get few protests, if any, is that my freedom is partly born of sadness, and my smile is slightly bitter at the edges. It's all like a picture with burnt edges. You, the onlooker, see it in a gilded frame. You only see the picture's center, whatever it may be. A butterfly? A colorful, flowering meadow? Happiness, surely. But me, being the owner of the picture, I see the middle, and how beautiful the picture is, but I also know the burnt edges, the smudge of soot that is hidden behind the gilded frame you view the very same picture in. I see the singes, the scorch marks.

What are these singes, scorched paper, smudges of soot? They are the bitterness of this freedom I have, for I have this freedom simply because I have accomplished something that not many people dare to, it seems. I have made my parents, caretakers, and anyone who tries to watch over me give up. I have made them realize that they can't control me, they can't force me to do something I don't want to do. That if they try, it's a waste because I'll ignore them completely and they'll lose anyways.

So I call my freedom bitter-sweet. I can go wherever, whenever I want, really, all because they can't do anything about it. They don't care to anymore.

And I think that's a bit worse than having them control when and where I go.

Sunday, November 29, 2009


Dear M,

No, I will not join you for lunch tomorrow. I do not wish to feel as out of place as you tend to make me feel nowadays. I do not wish to tempt fate and have you not show up, despite your invitation. I do not wish to be alone in a group of people I hardly recognize, the least of all being you.

Instead, I will stay here on my one morning free from you, free from everyone, and mingle with my peculiar and not so fleshed friends who you never cared to see. I'll write my heart out in words you never understood. I'll belong, which is more than you've let me be in these many months.

So, no. I will have to formally decline your invitation to lunch with you, and I'll be much better for it.

Yours Truly,
The one you keep forgetting to talk to.


Is it weird that what was once something I used for attention last year, I don't want to tell a soul this year?

It was pretty bad last year, but when it happened, people noticed me, and I got the attention I craved (after all, many people in my life were failing at giving me the slightest bit of attention). I turned something "pretty bad" into "somewhat okay" and maybe a bit "Kind of good."

An opportunist move, you could say, done by a girl who was being ignored in most aspects of her life.

And now?

It's happening again. It's barely contained. And do I tell a soul?

Not a one.

Sure, there's a hint dropped, but to someone who wouldn't know a hint if it was spelled out in front of him. And everyone else? Nothing. There's a pile of backspaced words with the names of my friends on them, and they won't be entered any time soon.

What called this change? I don't know. Maybe it's because I finally have some kind of attention of someone I desperately wanted it from, or maybe I've grown up a little bit.

We may seek a fortune for no greater reason than to secure the respect and attention of people who would otherwise look straight through us. -Alain de Botton

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Missing Your Grace

If someone told me a year ago that I'd be missing four horses terribly right now, I wouldn't have believed them. If someone told me that in February, I would have assumed a whole different scenario entirely, if I believed it.

Funny how things can change so much in just a year. In just half a year. Makes me wonder what I'll be feeling a year, even a half a year from now. Who will I be missing then? Will I still miss Summer, Montana, Whistler and Dakota? Or will something have happened to change that woeful feeling? Will I have free reign (lol, pun, that made me smile even in my depressed state) to see them? Or will something else take their place? Or will they simply fade from memory?

Option A is my favorite, right now. I think it will always be...

A lovely horse is always an experience.... It is an emotional experience of the kind that is spoiled by words. ~Beryl Markham

A horse is the projection of peoples' dreams about themselves - strong, powerful, beautiful - and it has the capability of giving us escape from our mundane existence. ~Pam Brown

Sunday, November 22, 2009

To Listen without Criticism (a method you never learned)

When I talk, do you listen? Or does it disappear in the crowd of your own thoughts, your own wants and desires that you press on everyone else? When I talk, does any of it get through to you, through that pushy crowd and into some actual space where I can be heard?

No. I don't think so. You, you, you. That is what runs your world. If it doesn't concern you, it's not worth the effort.

And, going off on a tangent here, ever think that maybe I don't have a solid, logical, makes-sense-to-everyone reason why I do the things I do? Why I will burst into a run from a calm walk, or will ask a question that seemed to have come out of nowhere, or will stare at the leaves and count their colors. Do I need such a reason, one of those reasons that will appease you? "Just because I wanted to," doesn't seem to be one of those reasons on the list in your head.

Can't I just be, and not be asked endless, cynical, obtrusive questions? Can't my reasons be left alone and not be picked apart and meshed into something that doesn't even vaguely resemble what it once was?

So hush. Listen to me. Let me breathe. Let me do what I want without having to answer to you. Then maybe we can avoid these "unfair fights" that always seem to be blamed on me, and this "moody attitude" I get whenever I talk to you and you fill it up with barely-concealed criticisms.

If not, bearing lychee-flavored gifts will soon not redeem you in my eyes.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Proving a Native Westdaler wrong :D

Okay, so, till Weil's, I've never been to Westdale, and so I obviously don't know the layout or anything, all I know is what is within sight from Weil's and the bus stop right in front. Today, Tom and I had to go walk to Koosh, one of the restaurants that orders bread from us, for delivery of 14 loaves of Italian bread. I stand outside Weil's, looking around and waiting for Tom to take the lead because I don't know where the heck I'm going, but I *think* it's down the street to the right
"Don't you know how to get there?"-Tom
"No." -me
"It's right by Pita Pit."
"I don't know where that is."
"You don't? You don't go that way?" (incredulous)
"Um, I don't live around here. I live on the Mountain"
"Oh, well it's that way" *points right*

So we get to Koosh and the lights are out and Tom bangs on the door, and it's in the middle of a long block of connected shops, and he gets angry because they're not open and they're not answering and he goes through this all the time, kicks the door in frustration. Starts complaining that he'll have to walk back to Weil's, call Koosh to open the doors, then walk all the way back.
I ask "Isn't there a back door?"
He replies "No, we always go through this one."
"Then where do they take deliveries?"
"Through this door" *kicks it again*
"That's impractical. What about during rush hour? It'll be too crowded, and it's not very professional"
"Well they don't have any other door!"
"There's always a back door, heading to the kitchen."
"There isn't a back door!"
"Whatever. I'm going to find this non-existent back door"
So I start walking to the corner and turn down, and I see a parking lot like they have at places like this, and he's dragging behind and I turn the corner. And there's people. They shout out "Hello!" and I say "Hey, you're Koosh?"
I turn to Tom and say "I told you there was a back door!"

Sunday, November 15, 2009


So I realized something while browsing the Life Issues forum (which I do sometimes). I bake and cook a lot, and I have had a couple of boyfriends, but I don't believe I've ever made a single one of them even a cookie. Even as my exes, I don't even think I've made JRoss anything... wait, there were those chocolates but they were for everyone, not specifically him.

Not that any of them but one deserves anything I can make (the one being JRoss).

So I guess it will be special if I bake or cook a guy something, since I don't seem to do it for just anyone. Of course, I might just get sick of this kind of track record and do it for kicks.

But where I am glad to make my girl friends anything, my guy friends? Not so much. Don't know why. Critical of myself? Maybe.

Friday, November 13, 2009

Frayed Strings

You are one of those people I just can't keep in touch with, it seems. We went so right (or so it seemed), and then the fairytale burst as I secretly (even to myself) knew it would. From there, it spiralled down like a dying phoenix- a dying burst of flame. And I can't really blame you, though you tell me I can (and should).

So our last kiss was the beginning, or maybe just the middle, of a dying correspondence. It's the cataclysmic event that caused all the strings to become frayed and confused- are they strings, or just particles? Are they whole? Were they ever whole? Were they meant to even exist?

I'd feel sad to be those strings, and must be grateful to only be the cause of those strings, the one that holds them as they weep for themselves and their questionable existence.

You know I tried to save them, right? I tried to wind them back together, even if they were only a semblance of the strength they once were (which I must doubt was strong in the first place, but still). They just wouldn't stay. They won't stay. Maybe they've lost hope on themselves, or maybe nothing I do will convince them to keep holding on. Maybe I'm not trying enough, but honestly, this you cannot blame soley on me, my once-dear. The cause of this all- sure, the blame can go for a large chunk to me, but this is not going to be the same thing.

I hope it isn't.

I'm not too sure.

But slowly, I'm giving up on these frayed strings. I no longer wish so dearly to keep the connection alive and whole, and they don't seem to want to either. Should I try to convince them otherwise? Maybe. Quite possibly. Do I feel such a need?

No. I cannot say that I do. And I apologize one last time, because I do not want to apologize to you any more.

I'm sorry, and I'm not. I like you, and I don't. I hate you... and I hate you.

I know it is not much of an apology, but that is what you are getting. Exchange it for as much as it is worth, I'll give you no more.

Rules for those I cannot Talk to

It is superbly annoying when I have to be friends with someone who I can't talk to.

Usually it's a combination of them being unwilling to listen and unwilling to be wrong/have something pointed out that is completely obvious. I can see where the second comes into play- I hate being wrong and I hate the obvious being pointed out (I'm more frustrated with myself than them, though), but sometimes one needs someone else to see the whole picture, someone who isn't so close. They may see only one tangly path out of where they are, but because I'm not so close to the problem, I can scout out paths that are simpler, and may lead to less hurt.

I've got to put a few rules down, it seems.

1. Avoid any kind of sticky subject. This could be anything from religion to relationships to stories and writing (who thought that innocent writing would be a sticky subject?)

2. When trying to help (even if I'm asked to) say nothing but "mhm" and "I agree" and suchlike.

3. If one of these friends-who-I-cannot-talk-to is being totally irrational, do not attempt to rationalize them, as they may do a number of things that include cursing at me, swearing that I'm on "their" (whoever the enemy of the situation is) side, and insulting various aspects of me.

4. Smile and nod, or look sympathizing, or indifferent, depending on the situation. This can save my life.

5. When tempted to talk seriously with this person (which previous serious talks have produced unwanted results) write it elsewhere or talk to someone else instead.

EDIT: 6. Don't talk about taking naps or anything of the sort because they seem to be obsessed with telling me I shouldn't sleep so much, when they know nothing of how I've been sleeping this past week, month, etc.

(Rules are subject to change, mostly additions as subtractions would be foolish and probably produce undesirable results)

*sigh* Can you see me following these rules, as open as I am?

I thought not. But I'll try.

Monday, November 9, 2009


There's always a trade. Always a sacrifice you've got to make. Take one or the other, not both.

We grew up wishing to be older. We thought "Hey, it will be fun to be adults." We dreamed of the freedom, the late nights, the ability to go anywhere and everywhere. We had no true worries. Money was something that was infinite, despite whatever our parents said (they just wanted it for themselves!). Sickness was a cough, those days where we felt like throwing up or blowing our noses out the window, and we got to stay home. Fights didn't include words that would scar us for weeks to come. The biggest hurt was falling off something, like a bike. We never knew just how lucky we were.

And now we've got so much less, but so much more. We've got more freedom, sure, but there's so much that seems to go wrong with it. Scarier things lurk in the dark than the monsters under the bed. What ifs cloud our minds whether we want them to or not. Grades have a lot more meaning. No longer can we be anything we want to be. Sickness takes on a whole new meaning. fights cost us friends and sleep. A broken heart competes with everything else for the biggest hurt.

Are we lucky still? Are we not realizing how lucky we really are, just as when we were kids?

Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows. ~John Betjeman, Summoned by Bells

Monday, November 2, 2009


Don't ever try to be someone who you're not. Sure, you can reach out and make a new friend when you're shy, but know your boundaries. Don't act like someone else. It's quite possible you'll regret it the rest of your life.

I know this personally.

Sunday, November 1, 2009


To all those who belittle themselves and have put very little value on yourselves, stop it. It's silly to do such a thing. Everyone is worth everything at the beginning, and it's their view of themselves and the world that raises or lowers their value. Don't expect the rest of us to try raising your price.

If you really put a small value upon yourself, rest assured that the world will not raise your price. ~Author Unknown

Friday, October 23, 2009

Secret of Mine

There's a secret I hold so close to my heart. I cannot tell anyone, yet you all expect me to. How can I tell you when I cannot even tell myself?

I don't know if I'll ever tell anyone. Or if it will get buried under everything else that is bound to come, and that one day I'll be able to think of it without cringing. And maybe, just maybe, I can admit it to myself.

And even after I tell you this (all I can tell you), you ask for more? You still demand to know this secret of mine?

Stop. Stop what you're doing. Go make a mistake that you won't even be able to admit to yourself, then try telling me.

Monday, October 19, 2009

It seems that I'm in a continuous loop.

Friends don't last long here, where I am, in this loop. One walks along, meets a friend, and then the next lap that friend is gone. Disappeared, pushed away, run off. The one friend I can keep by my side seems only to be there out of habit, which is a sad thing to realize, be sure.

Another note of the loop that you must know about it is that there's not much room for more than me plus two to tread. Anyone more and they must walk through the forest on either side, and that means communication is blocked and we only see and join each other in between pines and oaks. Sometimes one will switch in and out with the third of our party (mine and my perma-friend, like perma-frost, I guess), but it will always be three treading side-by-side on the forest loop until the third breaks loose and I'm back at the start, seeing another temporary friend and having them walk arm and arm with myself and my perma-friend until they, too, have walked the loop.

It seems the only one not able to leave the loop is I.

And I'm not the only one to notice this three-thing. My one temp-friend noticed it too, and blamed it, and my "new" temp-friend for our drawing away. The curse of the three, it seems to be. No more than three is allowed. The forest trail is too narrow to hold four.

I want to break off of this forest loop. This cursed trail. I want to be able to have and hold and handle four or more friends, not me plus two.

But four seems too odd, too complex.