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~

The Ugly Duckling

So for the past nearly 8 years there has been a family of Canadian geese living in my yard. The two that started it all were named (by me) Freddy and Fiona. 

Now, years later, the number of geese has more then quadrupled! 

Today, however, a new member has joined the group. oh wait, correction, tried to join the group.

A white goose/snow goose/swan (we aren't too sure what it is) was seen among the canadian geese, killing our grass and fertilizing it (or so they claim).  

But while watching these birds hard at work, i noticed their lack of love, affection and charity. In fact, they were downright racist!  

Whenever this poor, spectacular, bird would lower his head for a snack, the 'head goose' (or so i've dubbed him due to his protective ways) would go after him, flapping his wings, lowering his head and screeching (or so i imagined, i can't know for sure due to my being up the hill and in the house). And the white bird would back away.

Now at first i thought it was a coincidence. But it turns out i'm just naive. The goose was most definitely attempting to rid his herd of the outsider. 

So now i see that the tale of the ugly duckling is not just a fable told to young children to teach them about looking past some one's physical appearance. Birds actually act that way!

~remember, that ugly duckling turned into a beautiful swan~

A Perfectly Logical Move

Three times in my life i've been asked to be a bridesmaid. this is the 2nd one that has fallen through.

many of you have heard the story, and for those who haven't, i don't want to get into details. 

but the basis of it is that i was supposed to be a bridesmaid for a [friend] this summer, but due to episodes and actions beyond my control, i tactfully and gracefully stepped down from my position as a bridesmaid.

So now i'm stuck with a dress. a dress that at the time of purchasing i liked. but now, not so much. i guess there are too many memories and feelings attached to it now. crazy how one little thing can have such power over someone.

So a lady that i work with is getting married... and coincidence(?)- one of her colours is purple too! So we were talking about it, and it came around to me describing this previously mentioned dress and she asked if i would perhaps be interested in selling it.

hmmm... selling it, now what would that say? well, it would say [publicly] that i've given up on what could have been, which is true. it could say that i'm ridding myself of all reminders of what was... and that i'm moving on...

so really, in my head, selling is a perfectly logical path, plus i wouldn't be out $50.

not selling, well, first off it'd be a waste cause i'd probably never wear the dress, second off it would serve only as a reminder. and lately, i've been a fan of forgetting.

~as long as this dress doesn't hold (and pass on) the jinx that seems to be resting over my head~

Why must bad look so good

He stands there, with the power to support a nation, casually reclined against an equally seductive truck, with a cloud of smoke hovering about him; a slight turn of his head and glance of his eyes tells me he has noticed me too. The powerful body beckons to me. Oh what an enticing man of mystery.

I remain calm and strive to appear indifferent, doing everything in my power to keep my eyes anywhere but on him- glancing this way and that way like a crazy woman: all the while standing within arms reach to this composed and controlled man of compelling mystery.

His eyes are dark and dangerous. My eyes long to explore more- and my hands along with them. But I have an image to uphold, expectations to live up to. Such actions would create a scandal, cause an uproar- because to them, i'm no mystery: i abide by their presuppositions and continue to hide the truth.

In their eyes i do not stand tall enough to stand with the mystery man who has bewitched my mind.

~because of you~

I Don't want to be Patient

i'm unusual, not so typical, way to smart to be waiting around...

it seems that i run into this same wall of issues more often then i'd like.  Silly decisions or no decisions at all seem to be the path i've been stuck on. afraid of complicating things usually ends up complicating them more than they would have otherwise. 

with no indication of deliverance within view... i'm left sitting, waiting, and wishing, oh and going crazy.

stop merely tipping your toes in and testing the outcome. jump in and enjoy

~the smart move-giving up on the waiting- is coming soon~

as you slip away

we all have a reason, to feel as we do

to hate, to love, to curse, and to fear

each given the freedom

yet some still lack reason and logic

they remain incapable of thinking for themselves,

of acting on their own behalf

on seeing their own faults and admitting it...

so dream on

stay in your world of lies

set-up camp in your isolation

savor the island you've created for yourself

planes will pass unnoticed

content in their truths

un-daunted in their path

~dancing in my own shades of purple~

#%@*#&@

Angry bitter words flood my mind. Such heartless, indecent actions my heart and mind can not even begin to comprehend!

I tried to understand, i tried to talk... wanting to hear your side. but nothing. Silence filled our short time together and i left feeling more confused than before. 

And now... you spend many long minutes... nearly an hour pouring your heart out and trying to explain such actions to a spectator.

I see only cowardice and arrogance in such behaviour...

and no loss for me

~the real angry words i'll keep to myself~

if not sleep, then what?

so there i was, lying in bed, trying to sleep. to get some much needed sleep after a hard busy day. but through the window the light shines. it illuminates my room in a way that makes it impossible to find peace and solace and fall into the rest and recuperation of a good night's sleep.

Yet the light shines in as if this is not a time that i should be sleeping. As if God has another plan for me rather than the one i've been assuming. (for isn't that what night is for... rest?)

i close my eyes and try to ignore the light, but on it shines, relentlessly disturbing my plan. I pull the blanket over my eyes, but to no avail (and i can't explain why).

Leave me be, let me alone. It's been a tough day, this is what i need. I know this is what i need.

... but do i really know?

How do i know this?

Only cause of how i feel and because of what the world (and parents...) has dictated to me for years and years.

But what does this world--tainted by sin, by evil, by a clouded vision--know of truth and genuine need?

So, instead of sleeping, i wrote this--in search of a light (or perhaps in this case, an extinguisher for the light).

My eyes grow heavy, and i feel i may have stumbled across something important. Something that will entice my thoughts for days. And perhaps even lead me down new roads...

But for now, it will leave me to rest, for the light fades, and sleep calls to me.

~time to re-think the thoughts of a sinner's ways~

the fork still lay beside

For a while now, something has been bugging me. And when i say i while i mean about 4 months and 22 days.

And that is this:

 Upon choosing that sweet, rich, perfectly chocolate piece of heavenly cake, (yours may not be chocolate.... but mine will) nowhere does it say that you must then, immediately following your selection, consume the cake.

Just keep it in front of you for a while. Look at it, and enjoy it. It's yours, so there is no urgency in going further at this point.

So don't rush. Enjoy. It's yours from now till the end of time.

~a small taste of heaven~

Scars are Beautiful...?

So i know i've been known to stereotype guys, i know it's unfair to some of you, but until you personally prove to me otherwise, this is how i'll see you. (though i've been known to be easily mislead)

I learned my lesson when the one person that had convinced me of my biased ways ended up being the one to VERIFY each of them! So i've had to return to my earlier ways of thinking.

I'm ok with it, as i see it as [almost] justified. And if you want, in return, you can stereotype me to your little hearts content.

It seems that grounds for such mentality can be found in a number of places though, one is through this previously mentioned guy, and another in an early 19th century writing by the famous poet, Lord Byron.

He knows from his own feelings and actions, of how the male race is, and he sees how unfair women's lots in life can be.

He writes in his masterpiece Don Juan:

Alas! the love of a women! it is known

To be a lovely and fearful thing;

For all of their upon that die is thrown,

And if 'tis lost, life hath no more to bring

To them but mockeries of the past alone,

And their revenge is as the tiger's spring,

Deadly, and quick, and crushing; yet, as real

Torture is theirs, what they inflict they feel.

They are right; for man, to man so oft unjust,

Is always so to women; one sole bond

Awaits them, treachery is all their trust;

Taught to conceal, their bursting hearts despond

Over their idol, till some wealthier lust

Buys them in marriage--and what rests beyond?

A thankless husband, next a faithless lover,

Then dressing, nursing, praying, and all's over.

Now this may be a bit extreme... but i see some truth in it. Men have a history of their love being fleeting and fickle. Think of one of the most famous lovers of all time: Romeo. First he was passionately in love with Rosaline, then suddenly he's madly in love with Juliet. Had they not rushed into marriage [and death] within the week he may have met someone new to fall wildly in love with!

Sure he's just a fictitious character, but isn't fiction supposed to be an idealized reality?!

Now don't get me wrong, there is still a flickering flame of hope deep down in my heart at the idea of a Romeo or, better yet, a Knight in Shining Armour. If or when he comes however, I won't be to quick to trust, love, or jump up along beside him on that strong steed. (and don't be sick, i mean the horse)

~i just want someone to care~

Presumed Activity

I've been tired these past few days... ok wait, tired doesn't do it justice... i've been exhausted, depleted to nothing, falling asleep in my bowl! It's not been pretty.

So last night, i got home at 8:30ish, and was ready to pass-out (of course spending 2 hours with energetic children is no help). I held out a bit longer though, i called home where i tried to carry on a conversation with my brother and parents... mother told me i failed and should have a drink of warm milk and head to bed.

And so, by 9:45 pm I had climbed the latter to my loft and laid my heavy head on that oh-so-inviting pillow. Within 14 minutes i had passed out (which is pretty dang impressive for me!).

I slept on in peaceful slumber... thankful for no school the following morning when "love love me do, you know i love you, so please... love me do -oooo" rang out, literally.

My phone was ringing somewhere beneath my pillow.

It took me a few seconds to realize what was going on, then a few more to find my phone.

"hello" i said, or at least tried to say.

"where are you?!" it was my roommate, who was sitting in the room next to me.

Checking to make sure i was where i thought i was, i saw i was still in the bed i passed out and responded "in bed."

"Oh, sorry... go back to sleep then."

And we were done.

I returned to dream land (where i was a creeper!) and slept for another 10 hours.

The next morning i discovered that when she came home at 10:30 I was no where to be found (she's a horrible searcher since i was in my bed!) and so when i wasn't home by 11 ish, she called to send me to bed (knowing how tired i had been [thanks mom]).

Ironic, isn't it, that she called me away from sleep to put me to sleep...

So i guess what i've learned from this is i'm not believed to be a responsible person, willing to sacrifice the joys of the night for the benefit of my health.

~a dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep~

Is it too much to Ask?!

I was ready to choose the easy, thoughtless, joyless way... the one which i would pretend to enjoy, to be learning from, and eager about till i was with my most trusted advisors, where i would then rant and complain to an endless degree...

then *cur-plunk*

something new, something intriguing, something with potential and worth my time!

But in following this red dirt road it leads away from things i hold dear, things i look forward to, parts of life that are slowly slipping into the past and this could be my final chance to experience them. 

GAH! decisions, decisions, decisions... probably not huge life changing ones... but one can never be sure, until after the fact. and that's only in predicting what things MAY have been had i walked that other path...

I need flashing lights and neon signs!! small, seamingly non-existent nudges from indiscernible sources do nothing for me!

~ready to be rocked~

Bowing to our Master

So guys complain because girls are difficult to please, mostly because we don't know what we want. And, you know, i can see some sense in that frustration. But really, who truly, one-hundred percent knows exactly what it is that they want... i bet few of you can honestly say you do.

As a girl, i feel that i too have a right to complain about what it is that guys say they want. 

First off, they like boobs. They always have and they probably always will (even if they won't admit it).

But not only do they want boobs (and usually large sized ones at that!) but they ALSO want a tiny waste, no access pounds on the arms, legs, thighs, hips, stomach... And they don't see this as being problematic or too much to handle for us...  Do they not know that boobs are basically FAT and that it's nearly impossible to shed the extra pounds from everywhere except that one place.

But no, it's not asking too much, i mean, it's not like girls do anything else important with their time... oh except becoming superb chefs so they can provide for "mr right" well: so that they can be pigs: enjoy food and put on as much weight as they want, while their girl's starve themselves so as to keep that perfect body they are searching for.

is there no logic... no JUSTICE?!

unfortunately we girls have been brainwashed by guys and the media... we cut back on wonderfully tasting food, spend hours at the gym, pay a fortune for liposuction and fake boobs... and all for what?! A guy that thinks he is 'all that and more,' who will use us until he he's got what he wants then toss us for the newest flavour of the week...

What happened to commitment? What happened to what's on the inside as being important? what happened to love?

~and so we will continue, until a new leader comes forth to lead us on, to a reformation~

Emotional Exhaustion

Girls night. 

A time when emotions are anything but condemned; just let it all out: pretend his head is this cardboard box..., tear this apart like it's her pretty little face, scream at the top of your lungs and see if you can get those icicle to break, dance the dance of bliss... there are countless ways in which once can release their feelings with passion. And it is with the girls that it is most welcomed, accepted, and shared.

The other night more tears were shed between five girls than any male could possible dream of! These tears were shed, not for one of our own sorrows, but for the pain of a fictional character.

Now if you know anything about me, you'll know i feel a certain... connection... with fictional characters.  I don't just feel sorry for them, i feel their pain.

Pain can be released in a number of ways: screaming, writing, breaking things... crying.  And in a movie theatre, the action that best fits those circumstances is crying, unfortunately they do not have personalized tissue boxes along side the cup holder.  Next time i shall suggest these changes to the manager.

It's taken a few days, but i've been emotionally restored to health... Now with dried eyes i'm ready to move on to the next step... Irish boys!

~every time it rains, i get wet~

Aye! Another Sobriquet

It has been a habit of mine, along with friends, to give people (usually strangers), nicknames. Sometimes this nickname is derived from an inside joke, other times from a characteristic they possess which stood out to us as spectators, and there is also the names that have been derived from how/where/why we first saw or noticed this person of unusual intrigue...

For the most part, these fortunate souls are male (because what kind of females would we be if we wasted our precious time observing girls?!)

The most prominent unknown-contender (unknown at the time, that is) in our name game, probably the one that started it all off for me, was and is Nocab.

For over a year he was known, within a small group of friends, as Nocab, and only that. We found it became quite advantageous to us during our countless conversations concerning him, especially when foe lingered near by.

After a time, the dark, mysterious stranger of Nocab became a friend to some and more to others. But his initial title, our introduction of him into our world, will always remain, and never be forgotten.

Over time new players have been unknowingly enlisted upon our playing field. Enter Coffee Guy.

He's been a participant for over a year now, it was random, and he has proven to be an engaging topic over time, but distance and obscurity have always remained.

We aren't creepers or anything!

That is until my roommate decided to share Coffee Guy's story with a friend of ours who also happened to be an acquaintance of Coffee Guy. Now we live in fear of our existence being revealed, our cover being blown . . .

Uneasiness awaits around each corner and foreboding each Tuesday and Thursday classes...

~i shall name him as i please~

ode to a Robot

how silly the world of this and that.  how senseless those surreptitious times. no warnings; just a finger pointing in mockery.

half expecting a jeer of contempt to echo through the silences. 

cast aside those dreams. shut down that over-active imagination. to nowhere they lead you, and with nothing they pass you off.

a time will come when things will fall into place. but worry not your little head about them, for they will be nothing as imagined.

an iron rod strikes you down, just as fantasy was about to win out.

silly dreamer. reckless mind

discard all frivolous hopes. forget those feelings of euphoria.

you can't rush that which is to come. and desiring that which you cannot have offers nothing of value.

so depart from me world of musings. nothing more than a face in the crowd. eyes of wonder turn your gaze away from me, for such power has seduced me from reality.

oh, but a superior world exists among you. for reality is but the matrix i wish to avoid. your presence reigns beyond the chosen path. i crave our distorted life, even if it ceases to exist beyond my mind.

~i offer it all~