take me for a ride...

Firsts are always the best, the most memorable, the standard to which all subsequent are compared.

yesterday was one for me.

i'd always dreamed of riding one, constantly claimed to want a boy with one, or one with the boy... either way, i can now say this with assurance: i want a motorcycle.

riding on the back of a chunk of metal (with cushions for seats of course), clinging onto my driver for dear life, going 130 down the highway is a thrill i have never before experienced. it is not comparable to driving in a car (even a convertible) or riding on a boat, or jet ski across the water. it's a different kind of thrill, of freedom...

there is more danger, more risk in a motorcycle. Falling or crashing is often catastrophic if not fatal.

Mothers all over the world fear that their son will one day buy a motorcycle, or that their daughter will climb onto the back of some boy's.

yet on i climbed, trusting in my driver and that he would keep me safe

~for a wild ride~

must it always come back to Trust

I now understand the reason why i shudder at the mere mention of group projects.

The whole working together to accomplish something great. Each doing our own part, and later reuniting to fit it together to attain that ideal assignment.

Trust.

It always comes back to this!

You see, in a group project not only do you depend on your partner(s) to do their part, but they depend on you. Often you are with others whom you barely know. You are unaware of their past group-projects experiences. No, instead you are thrown into such a situation left only with faith

Faith that they will perform their tasks up to your standards (and vice-versa of course), faith that they will research properly, faith that they will actually show up on the day you are presenting (because group projects all-too-often go hand in hand with presentations).

It's all just too risky. You are so vulnerable placing that trust on the shoulders of another. This isn't a minor deal, this could be your degree we're talking about here!

~for even the sturdiest ground can shift and can tremble and let us fall~

Dream Catcher

So i have this exboyfriend/exfriend/exboyfriend/exfriend/exboyfriend (for the sake of simplicity i'll call my Ex) who i've known for, well, years. We've gone through a lot together, most of it good, but there are always some bumps in the road. Unfortunately, the most recent bump we've traversed was never concluded, or overcome. I guess we could say that we are living on that bump.

Anyways, recently this Ex has been appearing in my dreams... talk about waking up on the wrong side of the bed!

Either i wake up angry at him, or i wake up content only to remember the reality of our relationship. It's no way to start a day. Having him on my mind all day is neither healthy nor productive. Also, i fear that it has become a never ending cycle.

Think about it: i dream about him which results in his being in my mind all day, which causes me to dream about him again, then the next day there he is again! GAH!

I'm left wondering, waiting, considering, and fearing. I'm also frustrated.

~somethings never die~

my lullaby

for every step, another beat

-somatic from the heart

life, nature, routine, it goes on

to thump and pulse and knock me down

for beside me is bare

and my heart's not there

but the pity is false

as is that familiar smile on my face

they promise an ending

yet never assure bliss

but isn't that just the way it is

we beg for truth and get struck with reality

~Love and Pain go hand in hand~

Creativity


Stimulating the imagination

and inventive powers

to bring something

into being using

originality and expressiveness

~go wild~

Bite your Tongue

So i've never been one capable of mastering my nervousness. If i was nervous it was always evident to all in the same vicinity as I. Today, however, i discovered a new indication of this nervousness.

Before i always thought that when i was nervous my mouth stayed shut- i would remain as quiet as possible in order to keep the attention off me and, well, on anything else.

Today, my chatty side (experienced only by a special company) was released. Unfortunately, it was not intelligent chatter. In fact i fear that it would be better described as babbling.

I babbled.

There i was trying to make a good impression, to sound at least somewhat clever, and instead i made a fool of myself.

From topic to topic i sped, as if the world was going to be blown up in a 2 minutes and only i had the vital information needed to stop it, and all i had to do was convey what i knew to the hero so he could save us...gah!

My topics, sentences, and words all streamed together in illegible jumble, which wouldn't have been so bad if i had been enunciating.
but no, i mumbled!


I mumbled and i babbled! though i suppose if i'm looking for that silver lining i should be pleased that i didn't drool as well...


~this could ruin everything~

a blind step

there is something thrilling and rejuvinating about acting out of your nature
of taking that step past where your previous record was set
throwing the stars out of line as those around you gasp in amazement
or confusion...
even for an instant they see a girl they did not previously know
and at that moment, while spinning out of control, you find direction
the smallest step can set you off course
and transform the original assumptions into meaning



~i plead insanity~

Treasure Hunting

"Excuse me, i don't mean to bug you, but i found a brassiere here, and i was wondering what you think i should do with it..."

Even with my ipod on i could hear my neighbour loud and clear over my shovel scraping the ground and the tree, chopping machine on the other side of the house. He had found a 'brassiere' and was asking me what i thought he should do with it.
What, did he think it was mine?
Was it some sort of a pick-up line or conversation starter?
Were we supposed to bond over some forgotten piece of underwear, to give this object a new life or purpose?

But i went out to the back alley where he was pointing and sure enough- there was a black brassiere, lying in a mangled heap in the snow.
I doubted anyone would come back looking for it, it seemed relatively insignificant that it would not break any young, horny teen's heart.


But that got me thinking, how many things have i misplaced, dropped, or neglected in my journeys that have seemed worthless to others, things that, upon their discovery, weren't given a second glance before they were tossed into the trash, or maybe even left on the ground to be trampled.

Things that were priceless to me -irreplaceable- that i carefully presented to someone whom i thought would appreciate it. Only days later, however, i noticed it tossed miserably in the dark, unwanted and undervalued.

You know how they say 'One man's junk is another man's treasure'... i suppose, theoretically it could also mean "one man's treasure is another man's junk'


It reminds me of the movie The Little Mermaid, when she has that cave full of broken jars, silverware, a random statue (course it's of Prince Eric, so it's not that random i sometimes tend to exaggerate)... the other world, -above water- would count all Ariel's treasures as junk. But she sees them through different eyes, with a new kind of admiration and appreciation.



~in a world full of guys like you~

The Land of the Sideways Moon

The 8 odd days i spent in Mexico over Christmas break/New Years was the best week i'd had in far too long. And while the warm sun on my near-naked body, the constant intake of food and drink, and the wonderful company i had was awesome, they were not the reason for the near Utopia.

Instead it was the complete separation from the rest of my world: the decisions i have to make, the people who have hurt me, the stress of school, and the realities of... life

None of this mattered when i spent my days in the sun. I could sleep at night and live during the day. No freak-outs, no hyperventilations, no worries.

The most i had to worry about was the huge spiders, and the weird noise coming from the corner of my room.
The biggest decisions i had to make was which bathing suit i'd wear that day and what drink i'd try next.
It was a effortless life that i could have lived with for at least a few more weeks.

Unfortunately good things never last too long. All too soon i was on a red-eye back to reality, school, decisions, and stress. Of course i was also back to friends and loved ones, so that helped to numb the pain a bit.



~sleepless in reality~

The New Girl

It was like elementary school all over again.

I walked into my 3rd class this afternoon only to find myself suddenly engrossed in the mayhem of chatter, laughter, and post-christmas break reunions. Hugs, hand shakes, slaps on the back, everywhere i turned i was reminded of my encroachment into unfamiliar land and my ultimate alienation.

I tried to squeeze through the gleeful people, without bringing much attention to myself, and seat myself inconspicuously separate from the others, but not in a way that my distance would be noticeable.

As i sat down i raised my eyes and one of the boys in the center of the excitement caught my eyes and mouthed a quick welcome, i smiled and quickly returned my eyes to the ground as i took a seat.

I did not stay remote for long, as a boy i was vaguely familiar with, came and took a seat next to me. His friendly chatter helped to calm some of my nerves, which i was thankful for.

But the reduced heart beat did not last long as the professor called as all to the stage to sit in a circle (it was a drama class).

I sat between the boy who had provided me with my initial welcome and the boy who had come to talk to me. Suddenly three new hands were thrust toward me as three overly-eager boys introduced themselves to me.

After the professors introductory spiel, we were told to get into partners. I was instantly 'dibs-ed' and a second later asked from the other side.

What a feeling, to be more than just a face in the crowd, another girl. Instead being something new, mysterious and - dare i say it - interesting! (at least for a short time)

After years of being like everyone else (with a few exceptions which never lasted long anyway), it felt almost special (weaved together characteristically with fear)

If nothing else, it was nice to feel wanted, even for a short time

~something special~