Breaking the Habit

you see it everywhere, girls always falling for the jerk, or the bad boy.

i'm as guilty of is as any of them. many "experts" have tried explaining or justifying this obsession, yet none have done so in a way that i can completely agree with. while i myself do not have the answer, i will not bow down to their ideologies by always reiterating their theories.

but that's just me.

a... boy i know, commented the other day about how he "doesn't understand why girls always go for the bad boys" and continued with "i guess it's true that the nice guy finishes last"

first off, if this is true, i don't think he has anything to worry about, because as much as he may believe it, i do not believe that he is one of these "good guys"

however, at the time it made me think along different lines.

is this fixation of mine going to continue forever? am i always going to fall for guys that aren't in it for the long run, but for the fleeting high. am i destined to be picking up they ever-dwindling pieces of my broken heart forever?

it's not a very promising future. but then it hit me...

girls [may] fall for jerks, but they fall in love with the nice guy

i said this to my acquaintance, i think he took it as a bit of inspiration for himself. what he didn't know is that ultimately, it was encouraging for me, and my pending future...

~there is a time for everyone to do some self-reflection~

the boy next door

a homecoming is the act of returning to something familiar.

after christmas holidays, the return to roommates, school, and unremarkable food was all too familiar and insipid for me.

this year, i was even less excited for this homecoming than usual, and rather than welcoming this all -to common life, i was repulsed. it was time for a change, something unpredictable, and intoxicating.

i had a number of possibilities in mind, yet taking steps to assure these visions was either out of my control, or far too daunting for my gutless self. so ultimately, i've made this bed i now live in.

however, there was something slightly different this time.

i walked into our kitchen and toward the sink where i planned to wash our seemingly-ever-dirty dishes, and as i squirted the biodegradable soap into the sink (despite the good intentions of its makers, it doesn't work and i do not recommend it) i looked out our window. out our window and straight into our neighbours bedroom!

i was rather shocked and confused- has this ever happened before? have i always been able to see right into this boy's (well, more like young man... though i'm not too sure how much of a "man" he is) room, and more specifically, right at his computer screen!?

i raised my questions and concerns with my roommates. Jordyn informed me that over the holidays the previous resident of this room had moved out, and this... guy was his replacement.

over the next few days we discovered a few things about our new... friend

(1) he doesn't like drawing his blinds, (2) he spends a LOT of time on his computer, (3) he really loves his cat(s) (i have yet to figure out if there is more than one or not), (4) if we knock on our window loud enough be can hear us.

no matter how insignificant and foolish this may seem to you, it gives me just the slightest bit of hope.

if the view through a meager kitchen window can so drastically change in just a few weeks, imagine the changes possible in the bigger picture!

~a new shade of grey~

A distraction is just that (the first)

So in my return post, i mentioned the minimal amount of writing i had previously been doing; there has been next to nothing. However, next to this nothing is a phrase that was used in a conversation i had, that ended up acting as my muse.

This phrase (which may have been slightly adjusted over time) was

"because a distraction is just that"

Now, i attempted a poem with this as my inspiration/starting line twice. Once over weeks of sitting in a stuffy, lonely, windowless office... (yay summer vacation) and the other while sitting through my History and Philosophy of Education class...

Neither of these settings were ideal for writing, so perhaps one day i'll try a third time, in a more encouraging environment.

For now, here is attempt number one, the office version.

because a distraction is just that (a distraction)

it does not make you forget

it is not permanent

reality continues to flicker

and will one day break through

you were on my mind is an understatement

but rather you've never been off

you reign each thought

your memory is the loudest thing i hear

wanting to escape i plunge into anything

out each night for something to do

stay up too late to fall asleep

but you're sill there

even as i lose myself in another tale

Edward continues to charm Forks

while love prevails in Darcy's eyes

and Hogwarts' safe in Harry's care

But none distracts from you

~the truth prevails~

I know what i'd like to be doing!

so, since lately i've been somewhat... preoccupied with my roommates, i will continue with one of my rants.

Jordyn has the tendency to place (completely unjustified) judgement on those around her. Due to the fact we live in the same house, and see a lot of each other, much of that judgement seems to fall upon Erin and me.

Whether it be "TV is bad for you, it'll rot your brain" (then she precedes to spend the entire day in front of the TV)

or "oh, you're watching the new The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe, i only watch the old one"

And those are only a small taste of them.

On top of the judgement, she loves stupid questions.

One day, i had my hair tied back, work clothes on, rubber gloves up to my elbows and a bucket and cloth in my hand. i was bend over the shower, scrubbing, when Jordyn walks by and asks in her perfected condescending tone "what are you doing?"

In my mind flashed the words "what do you mean 'what am i doing?', what on earth does it look like i'm doing! i'm cleaning the bathroom you slob!"

Similarly, one evening as Jordyn lay sprawled out on the couch watching TV (maybe i should inform her that rots her brain), Erin came in and wiped down the coffee table.

Once again Jordyn asked in that same tone we all love "what are you doing?"

Now unfortunately i don't have the ability to read the minds of others, so i'm not entirely certain what went through Erin's mind at that moment. But i can imagine it was somewhat similar to my earlier thoughts.

~counting down the days 'till higher bills~

A Quick intro to the Roommates

So i live in a house with 3 other girls. I'll call them Erin, Morgan, and Jordyn.

Erin is an awesome girl to whom i credit for keeping me calm and sane (more about her later).

Morgan is an only child and sometimes has trouble getting along with others and dealing with things when they don't go her way, but she's learning to cope (lucky for her fiance)

and Jordyn... well lets just say, she's decided to move out (not because of anything that happened between us, but other circumstances, apparently beyond her control) and i can't help being excited and relieved despite the negative affect this will have on our bank accounts.

Now don't get me wrong, Jordyn can be a pleasant girl... but the bad outweighs the good. She is high-maintenance (though not in the way one would usually expect from a 22 year old girl), always sick and feels the need to verbalize this, and anything that is ever slightly disagreeable is the end of the world.

Oh, and did i mention she's a hypocrite. All my favourite qualities, all wrapped up in one girl.

~what happened to girls just wanted to have fun?~

through new eyes

Months have passed by seemingly unnoticed, at least unnoticed by my creative side. It's been far too long since i've written anything.

Well, that's a bit of a lie, i tried to write lyrics to a song without music (which is basically a poem). It wasn't an epic fail... i have a few pages of possibilities, but they weren't quite what i had in mind. Which just goes to remind you how different your creative juices can be from your plans. Which is the same thing as saying it's amazing how unlike your plans reality is.

Though my side of this relationship has been severely lacking in the past few months, the intake i have received from your side (aka the internet/friends/the world) has been inspiring.

I have recently (and quite by accident) found a blog of a Motley collection of photos (which is appropriately called "Motley Photos" [http://motleyphotos.blogspot.com/]) which i have been thoroughly relishing. I feel it has been stirring ideas and feelings that writing often neglects. That's not to say that my love for reading has diminished in any way.

It's more to say that there is still so much for me to learn.

~what we learn with pleasure we never forget~

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~

brainwashed

i want to write a truth, but i don't know where to start

for what is true to me, may be in your eyes flawed

one day it overwhelms my heart

the next, impales it

is it true when it's inconsistent

i want to find a truth, but i don't know where to start

you promise to show me, but i see only deception

for an instance i believe

until i crash and burn

for how would you know, with a heart like yours

i want to believe in truth, but i don't know how to start

when each promise ends in despair

i've been disillusioned

and mislead by the master

naive enough to fancy you it's angel

~caught in the shadows of a lie~

Someone forgot the Instruction Manual

so here i find myself in a rigid, uninviting chair gawking at the confound view which lay directly ahead of me. i'm surrounded by knobs, buttons, and leavers of all shapes, sizes, and colours.  

there is no omniscient voice calling to me, or any posted instructions, yet some i know what i must do: one of these gadgets is the power giving source, that which will bring to life this machine i have found myself in and start me down the path awaiting me. 

i give a quick sweep of the area, looking for the button which resembles the stereotypical start button you see in all the movies: large, circular, red... but i don't see it, at least it doesn't jump out at me the way it is suppose to.

the choices are insurmountable, if i even attempted to test each option i'd waste away in this cheerless throne.  i realize that it is more than reasonable to make a few poor choices, but too many and i could cause irreparable damage, and with that, i'd never make it anywhere beyond the repair shop.

peering out the expansive windshield i notice some of my peers starting-up and taking-off. they've deciphered their machine and are now free to proceed beyond this baron wasteland. 

i radio out to my fellow captains, but it seems that each machine is distinct to their pilot, and only advice and encouragement is shared (which, in such a position as this, is found to be quite overrated)

and so here i remain, still dumbfounded by that which surrounds me. once in a while another departure outside my window catches my eye, and with each of these, my spirits diminish a little bit more.

off they go to the bigger, and better. here i sit with the innumerable options staring down at me.

~sleepless and adrift at the wheel~

Perspective

there is just something about a broken heart and a knife in the back that one can't forget. 

almost as if it were a permanent scar.

the dripping blood seems to have washed away the good memories.

and the ones that remaine, do so with stains.

what about betrayal would i wish to recall:

the lingering hope of a misunderstanding

or the unfulfilled need of an explanation?

perhaps good times once transpired

you're free to reminisce 

for me, however, it is only a reminder of my blindness

my stupidity, my belief in friendship

if the good times were true, then maybe the friendship would have been as well

instead, it was easily torn apart with silence

~you can only remember the good, when there is good to remember~

Dreams can come True...

the other day i was reminded of an incident that took place in my first year of university. 

It went something like this...

My roommate, and good friend at the time [i'll call her Rae], was going through a difficult time... 

She would tell us (me and two other friends [who i'll call Jan and Chelly]) a few, not very detailed and quite general, reasons for this. Supposedly, however, she was telling her boyfriend [i'll call him Boyfriend] something completely different.

So one afternoon Jan and i were hanging out on my bed, reading or doing something else productive i'm sure, when Boyfriend stopped by for a little visit.

i don't recall exactly what he said, but it revolved around Rae having told him the reason she was always in a bad mood and what not was because of us (Jan, Chelly, and me). So he came over to see what was up, how he could help and what not. He ended up making Jan and me cry (for being so caring or something like that), and just for the record i was going through a hormonal period which makes one more susceptible to tears. 

We told him that we wished we'd find a great guy like him one day...

Well now i see, a few years later, that Jan found just what she wanted: a boy that makes her friends cry.

Of course when i said i wanted a guy like Boyfriend i meant more as a kinda, caring guy. But i guess that just goes to show how easily things can be misinterpreted and as much as you think you know someone... they can still surprise you!

~if you want something bad enough...~

It's Always a Question of Commitment

life likes to throw curve balls

those are hard to catch

and hit

depending on which team you are on

me: i'm on the losing team

the team made only days before the game

who don't even have matching jerseys

i don't even recall saying i'd play

is this a voluntary position?

am i free to leave as i wish

or am i now committed to the end?

~can i get a transfer to a different department? please?~

yesterday

it began far too early. 

i was up at 6:30 and eating breakfast before 7 (turns out short hair lessens your morning prep time!). At 8 i wrote a midterm. A midterm for a class which, since the first day of class, we've not learned anything new.  

The prof has drawn the exact same diagram on the board every day. I'm bored just thinking about it, so i'll move on...

Since i live only 6 minutes from school i walk home between classes. As i was traversing across the parking lot towards home I ran into that day's english professor.  She exclaimed that she hoped i wouldbe coming back for class, as i was one of the few who have actually read the novel we're currently studying. 

And so I continued home to finish my readings for that class.

When lunch time came along, i decided to make myself a pizza bagel (yum!).  Unfortunately i pride myself in being a female and having the ability to multi-task, so i turned on my ipod and sang (and there may have been some occasional dancing) while i prepared my food. 

While i was cutting the bagel it seems i didn't notice the slant my [sharp] knife was on- until it was too late and my pinky got to experience it first hand. 

And so, my newly painted fingernail was covered with a crude bandage. i noticed that the blood didn't seem to be slowing much, so i grabbed an extra to bring with me- just in case!

In class- english i wrote the date at the top, right hand corner of the page. I noticed, however, more than just ink marked my page- blood! 

And so the extra bandaid was quickly applied on top of the previous one. 

Spanish class means 55 minutes till home time. Then it meant more blood. This time it didn't flow nearly as free as it had in english class. But enough, however, to mark my page with brown-ish smudges.  Unfortunately i didn't foresee this. So instead of adding yet another bandage to the wound, i tried to keep my arm vertical till i got home. 

It worked out fairly well... until it came time to find my keys and open the door. Especially since my keys were nowhere to be found. 

With no keys, and my roommates both working there was only one logical action to take- climb up, onto the porch. And i did just that, while praying that my new neighbours would not choose that moment to walk out to their truck to grab another load.

The porch door was locked, but that was no surprise, for we were starting to get a hang of this in-the-city-doors-are-to-be-locked thing. So i decided i'd just hangout and read on the porch until a roommate came home.

So i pulled out Evelina and began to read-- still trying to keep my arm upright, as we unfortunately do not keep a first aid kit on our porch.  

My focus was continually tempted. For one, it had been almost an hour and a half since i had eaten, so the stomach was craving something... anything, and someone, somewhere close was barbecuing with a wonderfully enticing aroma.  Then, the new neighbours ordered pizza, and the other neighbour returned from her grocery shopping trip [and unfortunately she choose to unload the food before the baby, so there was nothing to gain from raiding her car].

The most difficult situation i found myself in, was the reading.  Not because of these previously stated distraction but due to my high-lighter being in the house, through the window on the coffee table, only feet away, yet impossible to obtain. How is  one expected to read without a high-lighter?!

isn't life just like that high-lighter... you can see it, but can't ever grasp it [and it's usually due to your own stupidity]

I must have been drugged

I had a dream... and thankfully it stopped as just that.

I woke up from a wonderful sleep and fell back down and i knew- it was time to have my babies. So off they took me... to a hotel. But not just a hotel, a gymnasium in a hotel. There were people standing around the viewing area watching the goings on. And it was dirty- very dirty. I could see dust in the air and stains on the floor and wall. It was not a sanitized room and it was NO place for me to bare my children.

So i began to yell and complain. I want a sanitized room- why aren't we at a hospital?! Why are there people WATCHING?!

So they agreed to move me, (i can be quite persuasive) but I had to walk myself, no bed with wheels or anything. I was following a friend and his foot was bleeding and he was leaving bloody footprints everywhere he went (why he was in bare feet i can't say...). I wondered why he was bleeding and why i was not- don't women in labour bleed? or emit some sort of fluids...(like when your water breaks...)?!

They lead me to one of the hotel rooms, with the cliche floral bed spreads that had probably never been washed. There were a lot of people in the room, and they were all just sitting around, drinking coffee and socializing. Paying no attention to poor pregnant me.

Hello?! Lady in Labour here!

I was still not satisfied with the situation (obviously, even in the best of situations it's hard to please a pregnant lady).

I want a sanitized room! You are doctors, you must have sanitized wipes and blankets and stuff- get them!

Some how they got me to lie down on one of those gaudy beds. I noticed that there were two people in the corner whom i new a bit- but who would never want to witness my giving birth. But there was also my 8th grade 'boyfriend's' cousin there, who i had never particularly liked, and judging by the look she gave me those feelings were mutual. Yet i said nothing about their presence in my 'delivery room'.

Finally in strolls my mother, looking care-free and unconcerned (that her first born was about to have her first born-s) oh and she had a toddler clinging to her hand along behind her?!

She walked passed me and went to sit with one of the doctors who was drinking coffee.

Mom, text Krysta!! i ordered. text her and tell her i'm having my babies!

but i don't know how to text was her nonchalant response.

well then text Tessa and tell HER to text Krysta (i was in labour, i was in no state to be making sense)

but i don't know how to text...

i don't care- tell her i'm having my babies!

Next thing i remember my leg was bleeding (there's my fluid!) and my mother was holding a cloth on it.

And i began thinking- how am i pregnant... who is the father... when did i have sex?!

The only possible answer to those questions scared me, so i stopped thinking about it...

And my leg bled on...

And then the door open, in pounced Krysta, and i was startled back to consciousness.

from spit to chocolate- just hold on

through the pains and turmoil of rejection, abuse, and prejudices he held strong. While the others worked so hard to push him away, he stood tall against their abuse.

and it paid off.

the ugly duckling, whom i spoke of earlier on in the summer, i am happy to report, now seems to be the head of the pack, or i guess i should say the flock...

when they go swimming, guess who's the leader. when it's time to move to a new patch of grass, the first to take a step in the desired direction is none other then mr ugly himself!

it's funny how quickly and drastically some things can change. One day you are merely a discarded cigarette-butt that has been stomped into the pavement, forgotten and spat upon, and the next you are a goddess and everwhere you turn there is somebody new handing you free chocolate!

so to all those used and abused cigarette-butts out there, just think of our dear ugly duckling and remember what he had to endure before reaching his goal.

the persistent bugger

the white bird just doesn't seem to get the message. when the clan goes for a swim, he's left behind as the other birds nearly have a heart attack to keep ahead of him. during eating time, he'll try and join the others, and he's either chased away or everyone else moves.

i have respect for his persistence and devotion to creatures who seem to show no interest in him, well besides a strong sense of loathing. it's kinda sad though, to see such honourable traits in a bird, while men [supposedly on the top of the food chain because of their superiority] can't even stay committed to something/someone long enough to call them back.

the idea of working hard for something and remaining devoted and committed no longer seems to exist in our world. rather then work hard to achieve something, people cheat or steal.

if they see something they want, they go for it, but never stick to it: it's great for one night, or a few hours, but as soon as something is required, or some sort of commitment is to be returned, the line goes dead and the idea is absentmindedly discarded.

~good things come to those who work for it~