turn off all printers

if i have beef with one youth-group cool phrase, it definitely has to be about "God's calling"... or "God called me to [fill in the blank with a nice westerner comfort] to further his kingdom"... cool. chew on that feeling for a while -- and the rest of us will hammer down and purge out touchy feely feelings and deal with the "calling" God has for every freaking one... i'll figure that out and you work to gain equity for that house in suburbia. sure, we all have our talents, but don't confuse that with a warmy bubbley feeling you get during P&W (if i may be so bold as to use that abbreviation) --

and here's something else -- what is it with lack of substance in our praise to God. maybe jesus is hanging out saying "yeah right" when we are, in unison, proclaiming our adoration in a catchy cliche tune.

maybe it works for some -- it doesn't for me.

stick eyes

today was a quick-bite-to-the-lungs-it's-so-cold day
i just wanted to hibernate under covers (and maybe do other things under covers) -- or pull out my wool socks and sweat pants and do the internet thing... maybe i just wanted to chase the sun west, with a quick pit stop in that city by the lake.

maybe i'm just real sick of being here. i'm restless. and honestly, i could scream my trachea bloody -- monotony and disappointment has staked out it's territory on this campus and i am ready to pack my bags and abandon a stagnant pool without forgetting to swat the knats as i leave. so there.

and i have decided today that i am not as emotional as everyone says -- i have a rational side. otherwise i would have quit school.

damn it

it's been a tough time coming --

the sun is hiding today -- along with my heart.
disappointments lurk around every corner --
and the only logical thought is to quit school and move to chicago --

that forlorn city across the state, next to the lake.

dirt and sweat

necromancist then zombiphilia?
or just necrophilia?
this is a valid question -- sex with the undead after conjuring or just sex with the dead? i suppose one could fancy both -- one avenue to extinguish a lusty fetish just might be a tad bit more dangerous --
how can you have sex with something that's trying to eat your brains?
think about that.

its you

to my unattentive weekend clothes, toothbrush, cell phone and charger, my current novel, a notebook with various notes on roman culture and doodles, a blinking whistle and my pipe cleaner flower (hanging from my rearview), and all the trash that litters my floor boards i gave my first concert. the set list was as follows:

mariah carrey - dream lover
roy orbison - pretty woman
modest mouse - track 1 on antarctica
some varied disney songs
-we're your friends
-part of your world
-oodelally (on robin hood)
-won't say i'm in love (hercules)
charlie daniels - devil went down to georgia
cher - in his kiss
some simon and garfunkel
various rap songs
book of love
sixteen candles
in the still of the night
some belle and sebastian
etcetera etcetera.

being a weary traveller late at night, with not even passing headlights to keep me company, i tend to sing extremely loud. last night i just pretended that i was on stage -- giving a kick ass concert. so, thanks goes out to the aforementioned audience, my emergency blanket, the lemon moon (who was my overseer), and the dancing mystery sky colors that i guessed (hoped) to be the northern lights that hung over Plymouth. thank you.

*start anew*

u turn

chicago
bound
tomorrow.

it was a spring-turned-winter couple of days in january.

it's windy

another sigh-out-loud sort of night -
and a foggy-window and pink-cover night
red interior. (inside and out)
i blush still.

i haven't been feeling very witty lately, nor have i felt very vocabulary. i use words like "very" and "a lot" a lot.
i tend to wish many things
i want to be clever and witty --
i want you to leave my blog with a "hmm" attitude.. like, "i know what this girl is feeling" or "i hate this girl" but i want you to be a hmm viewer.
that can't happen, though. i run short of words --
which, in itself, is just odd.

*

ten to four

an orchestra heart, but a lonely girl --
oceans apart or three hours,
the people i love are missing. (or at least some)

it's raining outside, and i wonder if it is in chicago -- and then i wonder if he misses me amidst all his work. things just seem to flow nicely when we are together.
a futon-matress-on-the-floor weekend followed and flanked by
a hold-my-breath week.

it'll work out, i'm sure of it. it already is.

a fire-work heart, but a lonely girl --

ode to high school friends

there's something beautiful about my assumed rose-tinted glasses... i suppose it's all the torment i went through when my parents decided to divorce because of alcoholism and certain other unspeakable things -- i know for sure i've gotten a naive view of the world because my dad died. that always makes things easier for anyone -- especially via house fire. i mean, that makes the rosey color so much more pink and fluffy. and then there was that one time when my mom moved away when i was sixteen, like one month after my dad kicked the bucket. and then there's this being a sociology major with a tender heart for all people. i see the evils of this society and think to myself, "wow, i have rose-tinted glasses on -- i am so lucky to see the world how it isn't."

thanks.

you forget your nice, golf-weekend and pampered daddy life. leave me alone.