But I will go to my grave with the life that I gave Not just a melody line on a radio wave it dissipates and soon evaporates... I'll come back for the home life...
Mr. Future Millionaire is back and why haven't either one of us learned that we always fall in love at the wrong time? That our heart are never on corresponding strings? That we need the exact opposite thing from eachother at the exact same time, EVERYtime? When will we be able to time or palipitations and weaknesses in order to atleast skip the same beat? I miss him and I love him and i feel like such a fool for ever causing him pain and for ever breaking anything of his... and he's glad that I'm happy. I want to curl in his arms and wimper an accepted apology and feel his strong arms around me and hear a quiet, steady "It's ok... everything's ok..."
Nope not this time little one... You missed the bus (Yes bus, I like boats far too much to ever imagine having missed one...Althougth that's another whole sob story...)
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Sunday, March 13, 2005
I recently attempted and pathetically failed a venture to the mall in search of a shirt to complete my Easter dinner outfit. Some of you may wonder, "Why does one need an 'Easter dinner outfit'?" while others (the lesser of the two phyllums, I do pray), will ask,"what is easter?" Well, my friends, I shall tell you a great story...
Once upon a time, there was a little girl, her momma, two old warlocks (who were also her brothers) and the girls father, King Norman the unfased. The little girl was beautiful by all accounts, but there was always something wrong with her. Depending on who you were, this flaw appered differently. Sometimes, she seemed too plump. Other times, her hair was too long. Some even thought she looked simple. So to hide her verious imperfections, everyone tried to dress her just so to hide her faults. The mother dressed her in rags to hide her pride and her curves. The warlocks also prefered rags so that no one would know she was a girl. The father, King Norman the unfased, had no say in this, for to him, the girls imperfections made no difference. (Mostly because, to him, she was invisible.)
One day, the girl was old enough to venture out into the market alone where she was greeted by a perplexing audience. True as it was she was fair, with red red lips and soft brown hair and eyes like doves, but the commoners in the markets too saw her flaws. They saw that she wore rags not befitting a princess and fitted her with the tightest corsets and longest skirts. They saw that she was too modest and they sold her the finest silks, woven fabrics, and lambswool they could muster in all the kingdom. They were displeased with her long, frayed, soft locks and encouraged her to cut her hair and die it the most unnatural colors, red like the robin, black as coal, and yellow like the sun. The very confused princess found her way home, delighted that she had found acceptance with her people, but worried about wqhat her family might do and say to her. She came into the courtyards of the castle, and her mother caught a glimpse of her short hair, colorful plummage and painted face and shrieked in horror "You stupid girl you were to perfect the way I had created you, why would you change?" So her mother forced her to change into her rags, take off the make-up she had been forced to wear, and pull her hair tightly to her head so that no one would see the shame of her short hair.
Everytme the girl went to the city, she felt as though she should dress like the commoners, for she was shouted aty and jeered in the streets "You simple girl, where is your jewlery, you make-up, your fine clothes! One can barly tell you figure under that sack-cloth!" The girl struggled for many years, going back and forth between her identities, beautiful in each place if only she wore what she was told, for her imperfections were too unbearable if handled in her own manner.
And such is my di-llama with easter dinner...
What to wear what to wear what to wear...
Once upon a time, there was a little girl, her momma, two old warlocks (who were also her brothers) and the girls father, King Norman the unfased. The little girl was beautiful by all accounts, but there was always something wrong with her. Depending on who you were, this flaw appered differently. Sometimes, she seemed too plump. Other times, her hair was too long. Some even thought she looked simple. So to hide her verious imperfections, everyone tried to dress her just so to hide her faults. The mother dressed her in rags to hide her pride and her curves. The warlocks also prefered rags so that no one would know she was a girl. The father, King Norman the unfased, had no say in this, for to him, the girls imperfections made no difference. (Mostly because, to him, she was invisible.)
One day, the girl was old enough to venture out into the market alone where she was greeted by a perplexing audience. True as it was she was fair, with red red lips and soft brown hair and eyes like doves, but the commoners in the markets too saw her flaws. They saw that she wore rags not befitting a princess and fitted her with the tightest corsets and longest skirts. They saw that she was too modest and they sold her the finest silks, woven fabrics, and lambswool they could muster in all the kingdom. They were displeased with her long, frayed, soft locks and encouraged her to cut her hair and die it the most unnatural colors, red like the robin, black as coal, and yellow like the sun. The very confused princess found her way home, delighted that she had found acceptance with her people, but worried about wqhat her family might do and say to her. She came into the courtyards of the castle, and her mother caught a glimpse of her short hair, colorful plummage and painted face and shrieked in horror "You stupid girl you were to perfect the way I had created you, why would you change?" So her mother forced her to change into her rags, take off the make-up she had been forced to wear, and pull her hair tightly to her head so that no one would see the shame of her short hair.
Everytme the girl went to the city, she felt as though she should dress like the commoners, for she was shouted aty and jeered in the streets "You simple girl, where is your jewlery, you make-up, your fine clothes! One can barly tell you figure under that sack-cloth!" The girl struggled for many years, going back and forth between her identities, beautiful in each place if only she wore what she was told, for her imperfections were too unbearable if handled in her own manner.
And such is my di-llama with easter dinner...
What to wear what to wear what to wear...
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Man Jeremy Camp is the hottest one.
Now that that is out of the way I need to have a Seinfeld "Nothing but everything" matters moment. And as per usual, I have a few things to whine about.
What's up with people walking behind counters at retail estalishments as if they own the joint? I work at a shoe store as most of you know (And Those of you that are just finding out, do us all a favor and keep your worn l Bundy jokes under wraps, Ksies?) It's a regular store, in a regular out doors shopping strip center, with the average clientel, So why do people constantly act as if they can do whatever they want up in my store? I hate to be ghetoo, but people keep acting a fool and disobeyin'. There is a counter. The customer belongs on one side and I (The associate belong on the other side. Now, I work there (You remember) and I am allowed to be on your side (You being the customer) But please do not come in search of a trash can, shoe cleaner, footies/peds/those-little-things-you-put-on-your-feet, a beverage dispenser, or any sort of condiment. You do not own the counter. You do not get to invade my space in order to fulfill your crazy quota for the day. And please remember that your children are not allowed to throw away their trash, get footies, search for frosty refreshment or come up behind me and smack my butt like they own me either. Please thank you and goodnight.
There was more... There is more... only I forgot it... hmph...
OH! The worst possible way to address a girl when she has altered her apperance is "Well what'd you go and do that for?" Okay, maybe laughter is the worst, but the worst possible thing to do that you could possibly control (Cause sometimes jaunts be lookin a mess and they have to be laughed at) {Please excuse the ghetto....} Is to say the aformentioned statement. My sales associate today, upon seeing my newest hairstyle, which is very chic and clean, if I may say so myself, said "Why'd you go and chop your hair off?!" and he added a glare that could angrily shred ice. When my retort was a quite indignant, "You can't talk to me like that, that's just mean" He asked why I was so testy, added that HE liked girls with LONG hair, then proceeded to list reasons at my "sudden" and "Unprovoked" annoyance with his Person. First off, you've knownw me for a year and a half and you know you are not my type so you should know you preference makes no difference to me. Second point, if you are my father, my boyfriend or possible my brother, go on and say what you will, but if you barely know a b, back it up... My motto is if you raised me or you pay for me you can say anything you want, other than that , my hair is not your concern, daddy, so shut it.... Grr....
I think thats asll for now. I'm sure I have more but what will I write about tomorrow if all the livin' I've done has already been written?
Chew on that kids, I'll be back.
Oh if anyone knows anythig about the Philipines, email me, It's an emergency....
Now that that is out of the way I need to have a Seinfeld "Nothing but everything" matters moment. And as per usual, I have a few things to whine about.
What's up with people walking behind counters at retail estalishments as if they own the joint? I work at a shoe store as most of you know (And Those of you that are just finding out, do us all a favor and keep your worn l Bundy jokes under wraps, Ksies?) It's a regular store, in a regular out doors shopping strip center, with the average clientel, So why do people constantly act as if they can do whatever they want up in my store? I hate to be ghetoo, but people keep acting a fool and disobeyin'. There is a counter. The customer belongs on one side and I (The associate belong on the other side. Now, I work there (You remember) and I am allowed to be on your side (You being the customer) But please do not come in search of a trash can, shoe cleaner, footies/peds/those-little-things-you-put-on-your-feet, a beverage dispenser, or any sort of condiment. You do not own the counter. You do not get to invade my space in order to fulfill your crazy quota for the day. And please remember that your children are not allowed to throw away their trash, get footies, search for frosty refreshment or come up behind me and smack my butt like they own me either. Please thank you and goodnight.
There was more... There is more... only I forgot it... hmph...
OH! The worst possible way to address a girl when she has altered her apperance is "Well what'd you go and do that for?" Okay, maybe laughter is the worst, but the worst possible thing to do that you could possibly control (Cause sometimes jaunts be lookin a mess and they have to be laughed at) {Please excuse the ghetto....} Is to say the aformentioned statement. My sales associate today, upon seeing my newest hairstyle, which is very chic and clean, if I may say so myself, said "Why'd you go and chop your hair off?!" and he added a glare that could angrily shred ice. When my retort was a quite indignant, "You can't talk to me like that, that's just mean" He asked why I was so testy, added that HE liked girls with LONG hair, then proceeded to list reasons at my "sudden" and "Unprovoked" annoyance with his Person. First off, you've knownw me for a year and a half and you know you are not my type so you should know you preference makes no difference to me. Second point, if you are my father, my boyfriend or possible my brother, go on and say what you will, but if you barely know a b, back it up... My motto is if you raised me or you pay for me you can say anything you want, other than that , my hair is not your concern, daddy, so shut it.... Grr....
I think thats asll for now. I'm sure I have more but what will I write about tomorrow if all the livin' I've done has already been written?
Chew on that kids, I'll be back.
Oh if anyone knows anythig about the Philipines, email me, It's an emergency....
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
so i hope my readers don't see this as overstepping my bounds as a writer ( and hopefully as your friend?) but i need a favor. this favor may be the most important one of my life, please read closely and respond promptly for I become more and more desperate as the days go by. this is a dilemma of WMD importance, please read cautiously.
Here's the plot and the tragedy:
I have a car (plot, not tragedy.) I have a car and it's my first car and it's a piece (Using "piece" Here, I hope you, the reader surely understand that it is an abbreviation for a phrase {not suitable for the wee readers} that means bad, bolox, not-up-to-par, ect...) Again, pot not tragedy. The tragedy of my newest fortunate situation is that my newly acquired, not newly designed or desired car, is, in fact, nameless. Yes, I have a no-named car. Having adopted this car from it's previously owner who, no doubt treated it well (obvious by it's ripped interior, rust colored 16 year old paint job, neglected golf balls in the trunk and automatic window buttons that you must holw in your hand in order to operate) it has still arrived at my door step without a name. I want this new car to know how much I really love it. It is imperettive that it feels at home and loved.
The best name in the running is "sir lotty of the piece family, upper marlboro." While this name is fitting and certainly acceptable, I would like to run over a few choices with the said "Piece" in order to find the best for him/her.
Please help. I need you...
Here's the plot and the tragedy:
I have a car (plot, not tragedy.) I have a car and it's my first car and it's a piece (Using "piece" Here, I hope you, the reader surely understand that it is an abbreviation for a phrase {not suitable for the wee readers} that means bad, bolox, not-up-to-par, ect...) Again, pot not tragedy. The tragedy of my newest fortunate situation is that my newly acquired, not newly designed or desired car, is, in fact, nameless. Yes, I have a no-named car. Having adopted this car from it's previously owner who, no doubt treated it well (obvious by it's ripped interior, rust colored 16 year old paint job, neglected golf balls in the trunk and automatic window buttons that you must holw in your hand in order to operate) it has still arrived at my door step without a name. I want this new car to know how much I really love it. It is imperettive that it feels at home and loved.
The best name in the running is "sir lotty of the piece family, upper marlboro." While this name is fitting and certainly acceptable, I would like to run over a few choices with the said "Piece" in order to find the best for him/her.
Please help. I need you...
Monday, March 07, 2005
The one-l lama
He is a priest
The 2 l llama
He is a beast
And I will bet
A silk pajama
There isn't any
3 l lllama.
So yea.
Oh and one more thing...
If you have the time
To listen to me whine,
Then when reading this little ryhme
don't begrudge me love, be kind
Consider, for once, who I am
and be a friend, the best you can
To read is to choose
To leave is to lose
Loyalty you can't buy
Is awaiting any friend of mine.
He is a priest
The 2 l llama
He is a beast
And I will bet
A silk pajama
There isn't any
3 l lllama.
So yea.
Oh and one more thing...
If you have the time
To listen to me whine,
Then when reading this little ryhme
don't begrudge me love, be kind
Consider, for once, who I am
and be a friend, the best you can
To read is to choose
To leave is to lose
Loyalty you can't buy
Is awaiting any friend of mine.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Here's the cleanest window into my heart, O ye disbelievers and scorners, o yea of little faith and great condisencion...
Psalm 116
1I love the LORD, because he hath heard my voice and my supplications.
2Because he hath inclined his ear unto me, therefore will I call upon him as long as I live.
3The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell gat hold upon me: I found trouble and sorrow.
4Then called I upon the name of the LORD; O LORD, I beseech thee, deliver my soul.
5Gracious is the LORD, and righteous; yea, our God is merciful.
6The LORD preserveth the simple: I was brought low, and he helped me.
7Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the LORD hath dealt bountifully with thee.
8For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling.
9I will walk before the LORD in the land of the living.
10I believed, therefore have I spoken: I was greatly afflicted:
11I said in my haste, All men are liars.
12What shall I render unto the LORD for all his benefits toward me?
13I will take the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the LORD.
14I will pay my vows unto the LORD now in the presence of all his people.
15Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.
16O LORD, truly I am thy servant; I am thy servant, and the son of thine handmaid: thou hast loosed my bonds.
17I will offer to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving, and will call upon the name of the LORD.
18I will pay my vows unto the LORD now in the presence of all his people.
19In the courts of the LORD's house, in the midst of thee, O Jerusalem. Praise ye the LORD.
Prasie Ye the Lord Almighty, God of Heaven and Earth...
Psalm 116
1I love the LORD, because he hath heard my voice and my supplications.
2Because he hath inclined his ear unto me, therefore will I call upon him as long as I live.
3The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell gat hold upon me: I found trouble and sorrow.
4Then called I upon the name of the LORD; O LORD, I beseech thee, deliver my soul.
5Gracious is the LORD, and righteous; yea, our God is merciful.
6The LORD preserveth the simple: I was brought low, and he helped me.
7Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the LORD hath dealt bountifully with thee.
8For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling.
9I will walk before the LORD in the land of the living.
10I believed, therefore have I spoken: I was greatly afflicted:
11I said in my haste, All men are liars.
12What shall I render unto the LORD for all his benefits toward me?
13I will take the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the LORD.
14I will pay my vows unto the LORD now in the presence of all his people.
15Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.
16O LORD, truly I am thy servant; I am thy servant, and the son of thine handmaid: thou hast loosed my bonds.
17I will offer to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving, and will call upon the name of the LORD.
18I will pay my vows unto the LORD now in the presence of all his people.
19In the courts of the LORD's house, in the midst of thee, O Jerusalem. Praise ye the LORD.
Prasie Ye the Lord Almighty, God of Heaven and Earth...
Monday, February 28, 2005
How come Mr.Hampster has time to talk to everyone but me?
How come I'm the last to know about his internship, who he's living with, who he's meeting, and the classes he's taking? How come I contantc him atleast once every two weeks and i get no reply? Silence. Not even silence. It's like he's dead to me. I feellike the father in the prodigal son story, just waiting and waiting and waiting at home with no word, while my son does things I never taught him to do. But atleast he's doing well. I keep telling myself that that's all that matters; his hapiness. But that's only true until I hear from someone else about his big life changes. That's only a fact until I have a dream about us kissing, a dream in which he says "I don't want to have to move in close to kiss you... You have to meet my lips where they are." That's only true until I send him an email/letter/text/message/phone call that goes unanswered for the a length of time that seems to stretch beyond the horizon and loop around to catch up to me, writing my next letter, imploring him to please, please,please help me understand how he's doing, what he's doing, how he feels... I don't want to hear he's doing well from other people. All that matters is seeing his handwriting, hearing his voice, opening an email, or recieving a text message from him saying "I'm doing well."
That's all I want.
How come I'm the last to know about his internship, who he's living with, who he's meeting, and the classes he's taking? How come I contantc him atleast once every two weeks and i get no reply? Silence. Not even silence. It's like he's dead to me. I feellike the father in the prodigal son story, just waiting and waiting and waiting at home with no word, while my son does things I never taught him to do. But atleast he's doing well. I keep telling myself that that's all that matters; his hapiness. But that's only true until I hear from someone else about his big life changes. That's only a fact until I have a dream about us kissing, a dream in which he says "I don't want to have to move in close to kiss you... You have to meet my lips where they are." That's only true until I send him an email/letter/text/message/phone call that goes unanswered for the a length of time that seems to stretch beyond the horizon and loop around to catch up to me, writing my next letter, imploring him to please, please,please help me understand how he's doing, what he's doing, how he feels... I don't want to hear he's doing well from other people. All that matters is seeing his handwriting, hearing his voice, opening an email, or recieving a text message from him saying "I'm doing well."
That's all I want.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
I've been trying to record all that has happened recently oh, a billion times, but freak accidents, time constraints and more important things have come up. I will now sum up as best I can in order to fulfil your need for info about my life and avoid previous restrictions...
A) i got new glasses, yeah!
B) Dave... yeah not so much...
C) Mr. Hampster sister... eugh... nuf said
D) Mr. Future Millionaire re enters stage right. :)
E) Powers.. Yeah I have 'em...
Aren't you jealous that my life is cool enought to be itemized in an outline?
A) i got new glasses, yeah!
B) Dave... yeah not so much...
C) Mr. Hampster sister... eugh... nuf said
D) Mr. Future Millionaire re enters stage right. :)
E) Powers.. Yeah I have 'em...
Aren't you jealous that my life is cool enought to be itemized in an outline?
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
So I know you're all dying to know about "Dave." I know this because random people are leaving comments on my blog saying "I want to hear more about Dave." (P.S. If you are said random person,who are you?)
Here's the here about Dave. He's great. He's just too cute. He's Christian, he's got the cd collection I have always wanted, he's smart, he's older, he pretty much just gets it.
That's all I want to say right now because A) You shouldn't be so nosy and B) I've been awake for too long and I'm ready for bedy...
Yeah that's right, bedy...what about it
Here's the here about Dave. He's great. He's just too cute. He's Christian, he's got the cd collection I have always wanted, he's smart, he's older, he pretty much just gets it.
That's all I want to say right now because A) You shouldn't be so nosy and B) I've been awake for too long and I'm ready for bedy...
Yeah that's right, bedy...what about it
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Sunday, February 13, 2005
So tonight I shall commit to posting two blog entries, much to the dismay and/or delight of my 3 readers. One blog entry (this one) shall be a rant and one (the next one) shall be a rave. You choose which Louise you like best...
THE RANT:
I am tired of being made to feel small. I'm tired of being labeled "immature" "naive" or "stupid". It might be true that i am all of those things but good god people, don't you think I get that by now? My parents, my siblings and my aquaintences take time out of their precious life nearly every day to inform me of my inequities, and now my friends lodge an attack? Can't a girl catch a break?
Seriously, what do i have to do to prove myself to you people? (especially you "friend" types?) I have made every academic goal set before me, yet I'm still "stupid". I have gotten acollades in every business venture I have ever tried and yet I am still "incapable". I have lived my life with practically no help in rasing myself yet I can't shake the title of "immature". I smile and talk sweetly and work dilegently, yet I am a snob by many accounts.
I just don't know what to do. I don't know where to go from here. i can't try any harder. I don't know what else to do. What do you want from me? No one is the perfect daughter/friend/co-workers/person, so why would any one expect that of me? I try so hard to each the expectations of everyone around me and yet I am still called lazy and selfish and-- oh the list goes on, but if I continue I will also be able to count "whiny" among my many faults.
Could someone please just like me the way I am? Could someone lower the bar so that i could squeeze by? Just this once let me in. Let me be good enough. Just for a day can we pretend that I meet you expectations and that I am, at the very least, acceptable to you? I try so hard.. All I want is a nod. A simple recognition as a fellow and equal human being. You'll have to just compromise tonight and give it to me because honestly I have no idea how to earn it.
So I think that'll do...
Now for
THE RAVE:
I have a date. For the first time in a long while I have a real, legit, bone fide date with a man. This, for me, is very exciting. I am being taken out like a lady to a very nice restaraunt buy and very nice gentleman friend.... who will be henceforth referenced as Dave. ( I know, I know, but I'm running out of clever quips)
So yeah, that's all folks...
THE RANT:
I am tired of being made to feel small. I'm tired of being labeled "immature" "naive" or "stupid". It might be true that i am all of those things but good god people, don't you think I get that by now? My parents, my siblings and my aquaintences take time out of their precious life nearly every day to inform me of my inequities, and now my friends lodge an attack? Can't a girl catch a break?
Seriously, what do i have to do to prove myself to you people? (especially you "friend" types?) I have made every academic goal set before me, yet I'm still "stupid". I have gotten acollades in every business venture I have ever tried and yet I am still "incapable". I have lived my life with practically no help in rasing myself yet I can't shake the title of "immature". I smile and talk sweetly and work dilegently, yet I am a snob by many accounts.
I just don't know what to do. I don't know where to go from here. i can't try any harder. I don't know what else to do. What do you want from me? No one is the perfect daughter/friend/co-workers/person, so why would any one expect that of me? I try so hard to each the expectations of everyone around me and yet I am still called lazy and selfish and-- oh the list goes on, but if I continue I will also be able to count "whiny" among my many faults.
Could someone please just like me the way I am? Could someone lower the bar so that i could squeeze by? Just this once let me in. Let me be good enough. Just for a day can we pretend that I meet you expectations and that I am, at the very least, acceptable to you? I try so hard.. All I want is a nod. A simple recognition as a fellow and equal human being. You'll have to just compromise tonight and give it to me because honestly I have no idea how to earn it.
So I think that'll do...
Now for
THE RAVE:
I have a date. For the first time in a long while I have a real, legit, bone fide date with a man. This, for me, is very exciting. I am being taken out like a lady to a very nice restaraunt buy and very nice gentleman friend.... who will be henceforth referenced as Dave. ( I know, I know, but I'm running out of clever quips)
So yeah, that's all folks...
Thursday, February 10, 2005
It was a beautiful day on the island. the winds were blowing softly westward, a sign of good, steady tropical weather. The tourists bustled about, angry that they had oversplet the sun, eager to begin their day. The merchants were putting out their goods in the market and setting up their stalls. Fresh pineapple and plumeria invaded the senses. The sun was warm to the touch and shining just right, set high above the red-brown foliage covered mountain sides. Someone was playing a ukelele on the corner with a straw basket out for collections. The smile on the Hilo Hattie tour guide shone out over the large ruffles of her well pressed muumuu.
As I walked along, I could tell I was nearing the ocean. The crowds rushed into a Denny's on the corner and I strolled right past, the only sustainace I sought was straight ahead, past a japanese resturaunt, down a tiny alley way, and ten paces west. Unfamiliar tourists don't know that the ocean on that side of the world is perfect all the time, most suspect it is too early for any enjoyment to be had out of the west city side of the island; I am as good as a native, I know her waters will never disapoint. I disapear into the alley and emerge in paradise. The concrete walls part to reveal a perfect rolling turquoise ocean and the most picture perfect view of Diamond Head, short of a 50 mile hike or helicopter. Something glitters on the farthest tip- A diamond? A precious jewel? Silly settlers of old, the mountain is the glittering. The Island is the diamond, strong, beautiful,perfect, immutable.
I walk over a bridge built up against the water. Again, two well-dressed tourists hurry past, dodging the crashing waves that send mini tidal waves over the side of the pedestrian crossing. I know that the water is warm and sweet, I almost ran to meet a wave and then, remembering the pledge I made to myself, I kept a steady pace. Steady like the breeze, steady like the ocean. I made it off of the 30 foot bridge and struck golden sand with the picks of my feet. More diamonds.
I walked slowly to the water, shoes in hand. Slowly, the Hawaiian sun never burns the sand. I dipped in and out of the water, continuing my eastward journey to the moutain. The huge, immovable, immutable, steady mountain. i walked and walked slowly for hours. the sun never set, the tourists never changed, and the mountain never came closer. i reached, and plodded and stretched my endurance to the point of exhaustion and still-- nothing. No change in the island, only a change in me. Only fear, despiration, perspiration, perserverance. I must continue. i must reach the--
And then I woke up. A strong wind blew at my door and with it, took all my drems of the island glamour. The sun hung out of my window, as weary as I, looking out over flat, cold, clouded lands. A light fog lifted as the day went on and a cold frost crept cautiously covering everything with cat like stealth. The air smelled of snow and hung like rain. The tourists changed into bussiness men-- suits, Buicks, and deadlines in tote, they rushed to miss the crashing of the rain. I now better though. No need to rush anywhere, it will all be the same unless it's Paradise.
As I walked along, I could tell I was nearing the ocean. The crowds rushed into a Denny's on the corner and I strolled right past, the only sustainace I sought was straight ahead, past a japanese resturaunt, down a tiny alley way, and ten paces west. Unfamiliar tourists don't know that the ocean on that side of the world is perfect all the time, most suspect it is too early for any enjoyment to be had out of the west city side of the island; I am as good as a native, I know her waters will never disapoint. I disapear into the alley and emerge in paradise. The concrete walls part to reveal a perfect rolling turquoise ocean and the most picture perfect view of Diamond Head, short of a 50 mile hike or helicopter. Something glitters on the farthest tip- A diamond? A precious jewel? Silly settlers of old, the mountain is the glittering. The Island is the diamond, strong, beautiful,perfect, immutable.
I walk over a bridge built up against the water. Again, two well-dressed tourists hurry past, dodging the crashing waves that send mini tidal waves over the side of the pedestrian crossing. I know that the water is warm and sweet, I almost ran to meet a wave and then, remembering the pledge I made to myself, I kept a steady pace. Steady like the breeze, steady like the ocean. I made it off of the 30 foot bridge and struck golden sand with the picks of my feet. More diamonds.
I walked slowly to the water, shoes in hand. Slowly, the Hawaiian sun never burns the sand. I dipped in and out of the water, continuing my eastward journey to the moutain. The huge, immovable, immutable, steady mountain. i walked and walked slowly for hours. the sun never set, the tourists never changed, and the mountain never came closer. i reached, and plodded and stretched my endurance to the point of exhaustion and still-- nothing. No change in the island, only a change in me. Only fear, despiration, perspiration, perserverance. I must continue. i must reach the--
And then I woke up. A strong wind blew at my door and with it, took all my drems of the island glamour. The sun hung out of my window, as weary as I, looking out over flat, cold, clouded lands. A light fog lifted as the day went on and a cold frost crept cautiously covering everything with cat like stealth. The air smelled of snow and hung like rain. The tourists changed into bussiness men-- suits, Buicks, and deadlines in tote, they rushed to miss the crashing of the rain. I now better though. No need to rush anywhere, it will all be the same unless it's Paradise.
OHHHHHHHH
i wanna go back to my little grass shack on Ke'LiKiLani
Where the palm trees sway and the dolphins play each and every day
I had a dream last night that I walked as far as i could walk on the Oahu shoreline, starting at Waikiki and stopping only because i hit the Diamond Head moutain.
I have to say, with all this cold weather and my generally down trodden mood lately, I wouldn't mind a walk on sandy beaches with an endless glittering turquoise ocean set before me and a mountain to walk towards while gentle tropical winds combed my hair...
Aloha...
i wanna go back to my little grass shack on Ke'LiKiLani
Where the palm trees sway and the dolphins play each and every day
I had a dream last night that I walked as far as i could walk on the Oahu shoreline, starting at Waikiki and stopping only because i hit the Diamond Head moutain.
I have to say, with all this cold weather and my generally down trodden mood lately, I wouldn't mind a walk on sandy beaches with an endless glittering turquoise ocean set before me and a mountain to walk towards while gentle tropical winds combed my hair...
Aloha...
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
In the morning when I wake up,
Before I put on my make up
I say a little prayer for you
Forever and ever you'll stay in my heart
And I will love you
Forever and ever we're never to part
Cause that would be heartbreak for me
You'll say we've got nothing in common
no common ground to start from
and we're falling apart
You'll say
The world has come between us
Our lives have come between us
Still I'll know you just don't care
Before I put on my make up
I say a little prayer for you
Forever and ever you'll stay in my heart
And I will love you
Forever and ever we're never to part
Cause that would be heartbreak for me
You'll say we've got nothing in common
no common ground to start from
and we're falling apart
You'll say
The world has come between us
Our lives have come between us
Still I'll know you just don't care
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Nice Touch.
Thats the word for the day. Nice Touch.
Ever notice that when you're down the hurt just keeps on coming? Ever notice that when you're heartbroken, that person finds their light?
Ever notice that when you're tired you end up having to do 10 times the expected amount?
Ever notice that when you're tested once, you're tested a million times?
Ever notice that no matter how hard you try you can never do as well as you would like?
Ever notice that everyone else has better parents/spouses/friends/bosses?
Ever notice that no one ever notices you?
Ever notice that when you're late you hit ever traffic light?
Ever notice that no matter how far down you are, you can still see God?
Ever notice that for every heartbreak He has suffered a million times more just for you to be in that moment?
Ever notice that Voice, that treacherous snake hissing in your ear, always dies away when you say His name?
Ever notice that when you need Him most, He has given you all?
I have.
Thats the word for the day. Nice Touch.
Ever notice that when you're down the hurt just keeps on coming? Ever notice that when you're heartbroken, that person finds their light?
Ever notice that when you're tired you end up having to do 10 times the expected amount?
Ever notice that when you're tested once, you're tested a million times?
Ever notice that no matter how hard you try you can never do as well as you would like?
Ever notice that everyone else has better parents/spouses/friends/bosses?
Ever notice that no one ever notices you?
Ever notice that when you're late you hit ever traffic light?
Ever notice that no matter how far down you are, you can still see God?
Ever notice that for every heartbreak He has suffered a million times more just for you to be in that moment?
Ever notice that Voice, that treacherous snake hissing in your ear, always dies away when you say His name?
Ever notice that when you need Him most, He has given you all?
I have.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
So underneath my sign on for this blog the words "Tequila Mockingbird" caught my eye and I felt compelled to share with all of you that, believe it or not, contrayer to my present and inherent loquacity, i was actually a pretty dumb kid and I really did think that when I got to ninth grade that they were going to force me to read a book named "Tequila Mockingbird". My teacher got quite a laugh out of this when she asked us to do a pre-reading research on it and then write an essay about why we thought the book was controversial. I, being the slacker that i am, failed to do the pre-reading and subsiquently turned in a paper intitled: "Tequila Mockingbird: The Trouble with Boozing Birds."
While the preceeding story is not entirely true, (I'll allow you to pick and chose the parts you think are fancy and fact)my little anecdote is hopefully a colorful example of how words can cause so much darn trouble.
At any rate, that was not my initial vein of thought so let me digress. (Yes, vein.Often times thoughts have their own life therefore they are not as inanimate as a train, but rather pulsating, pumping, and pondering into their own existence or life support system, all depending on what is required of them.) So, to begin a new, to begin a new, such sweet bliss in creationism...
Now that i have talked myself right out of the original town my thoughts had built when I stared this blog more than twenty minutes ago, I shall now revert back to the thought I did manage to get down on the proverbial paper of the internetand that is this: words. "Over numbers, unencumbered and numbered words", as Jason Mraz might say about them. Words- Don't talk too much for it fosters sin. Be sensible and shut off the flow; As the poet of Psalms, David, might say to the effect of vocabulary.
Words- A sound or a combination of sounds, or its representation in writing or printing, that symbolizes and communicates a meaning and may consist of a single morpheme or of a combination of morphemes.
As some of you may know or chance to guess, I am close friends with the beast we call "language." In other WORDS, I have been known to talk too much, write too much, sign too much... Anything I can do to communicate... well anything that I feel is neccessary, beneficial or would simply fill the world with that much more thought. I was once asked by a former english teacher, "Miss. Louise," she said, "Do you have a limit you must hit everyday or is your loquacity simply a personal competition to see if you might top your own records of frivilous word usage???" (Again, this is a bit of a frabrication... the said teacher wasn't that eloquent...)
If you've been following along like studious little readers, I made a resolution not too long ago to limit my word usage. My "per capita quota" for each day as it were.(You all see how well that's going) I personally think that there is something fundamentally wrong with my plan to.. well, to shut up. The problem being that I am physically incapable of the task at hand. I just can't do it. I see you, don't you shake your head at me. It's true! It is impossible (not improbably, IMPOSSIBLE) for me to stop talking. To talk is to learn. to talk is to teach. To talk is to LIVE. I can't stop. I've got an eight pound motor made up of 75% water and 25% electricity and it just goes and grows and sows it's wild rambling thoughts all day long. If I didn't get it out somehow, I'd go comatose with all the thoughts just hanging around. Simply Coconuts!
You wouldn't want that to happen, now would you?
While the preceeding story is not entirely true, (I'll allow you to pick and chose the parts you think are fancy and fact)my little anecdote is hopefully a colorful example of how words can cause so much darn trouble.
At any rate, that was not my initial vein of thought so let me digress. (Yes, vein.Often times thoughts have their own life therefore they are not as inanimate as a train, but rather pulsating, pumping, and pondering into their own existence or life support system, all depending on what is required of them.) So, to begin a new, to begin a new, such sweet bliss in creationism...
Now that i have talked myself right out of the original town my thoughts had built when I stared this blog more than twenty minutes ago, I shall now revert back to the thought I did manage to get down on the proverbial paper of the internetand that is this: words. "Over numbers, unencumbered and numbered words", as Jason Mraz might say about them. Words- Don't talk too much for it fosters sin. Be sensible and shut off the flow; As the poet of Psalms, David, might say to the effect of vocabulary.
Words- A sound or a combination of sounds, or its representation in writing or printing, that symbolizes and communicates a meaning and may consist of a single morpheme or of a combination of morphemes.
As some of you may know or chance to guess, I am close friends with the beast we call "language." In other WORDS, I have been known to talk too much, write too much, sign too much... Anything I can do to communicate... well anything that I feel is neccessary, beneficial or would simply fill the world with that much more thought. I was once asked by a former english teacher, "Miss. Louise," she said, "Do you have a limit you must hit everyday or is your loquacity simply a personal competition to see if you might top your own records of frivilous word usage???" (Again, this is a bit of a frabrication... the said teacher wasn't that eloquent...)
If you've been following along like studious little readers, I made a resolution not too long ago to limit my word usage. My "per capita quota" for each day as it were.(You all see how well that's going) I personally think that there is something fundamentally wrong with my plan to.. well, to shut up. The problem being that I am physically incapable of the task at hand. I just can't do it. I see you, don't you shake your head at me. It's true! It is impossible (not improbably, IMPOSSIBLE) for me to stop talking. To talk is to learn. to talk is to teach. To talk is to LIVE. I can't stop. I've got an eight pound motor made up of 75% water and 25% electricity and it just goes and grows and sows it's wild rambling thoughts all day long. If I didn't get it out somehow, I'd go comatose with all the thoughts just hanging around. Simply Coconuts!
You wouldn't want that to happen, now would you?
Saturday, January 29, 2005
She grabs her magazines
She packs her things and she goes
She leaves the pictures hanging on the wall, she burns all
Her notes and she knows, she's been here too few years
To feel this old
He smokes his cigarette, he stays outside 'till it's gone
If anybody ever had a heart, he wouldn't be alone
He knows, she's been here too few years, to be gone
And we always say, it would be good to go away, someday
But if there's nothing there to make things change
If it's the same for you I'll just hang
The trouble understand, is she got reasons he don't
Funny how he couldn't see at all, 'til she grabbed up her coat
And she goes, she's been here too few years to take it all in stride
But still it's much too long, to let hurt go (you let her go)
And we always say, it would be good to go away, someday
But if there's nothing there to make things change
If it's the same for you I'll just hang
The same for you
I'll always hang
Well I always say, it would be good to go away
But if things don't work out like we think
And there's nothing there to ease this ache
But if there's nothing there to make things change
If it's the same for you, I'll just hang
She packs her things and she goes
She leaves the pictures hanging on the wall, she burns all
Her notes and she knows, she's been here too few years
To feel this old
He smokes his cigarette, he stays outside 'till it's gone
If anybody ever had a heart, he wouldn't be alone
He knows, she's been here too few years, to be gone
And we always say, it would be good to go away, someday
But if there's nothing there to make things change
If it's the same for you I'll just hang
The trouble understand, is she got reasons he don't
Funny how he couldn't see at all, 'til she grabbed up her coat
And she goes, she's been here too few years to take it all in stride
But still it's much too long, to let hurt go (you let her go)
And we always say, it would be good to go away, someday
But if there's nothing there to make things change
If it's the same for you I'll just hang
The same for you
I'll always hang
Well I always say, it would be good to go away
But if things don't work out like we think
And there's nothing there to ease this ache
But if there's nothing there to make things change
If it's the same for you, I'll just hang
Thursday, January 27, 2005
I wish I could post on my forehead or other visibly prominent section of my epidermis :
"FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE
...Please"
All my life I've been knocked down, pushed in the ground and kicked around. I can't tell you how many times I've been told I shouldn't have been born. How I've cried at yet another disapointing friendship coming to an unnecessary end. I've been emotionally trashed, psychologically toyed with, physically made to feel helpless and spiritually tormented- and that is just by the hands of my family members. Think of what a toll this cruel and unforgiving society has inflicted upon me.
And yet, people are still so careless. They enter my heart and soul like a drunk enters a car, uncarring and relaxed, content until the end with whatever damage they may cause.
And though I am fragile, I am built to be quite resilient. Like Job, I take everything the Devil can give me and still manage to trust my Lord, Savior and friend to still provide salvation no mater the damnation I see lurking around every corner and in the eyes of everyone I seem to meet.
Despite all of my resilency and vivacious determination, I have a message for the world:
Be kinder to your bastard children, your widows, your divorcees, your psychologically instable. Haven't they suffered enough at the hands of Lucifer? Do not allow you body to house the foreign Agents of Sin, that is don't whore yourself out to Demons. Control your malicious thoughts and abusive language towards me and all of the other travelers. Do no harm, forgetting those who have harmed you.
I'm lucky, God has given me strength. Don't count on others to recover so well. Why be like a disease, defeating and consuming, when you could be the bringer of Light and show fruits of the spirit towards those around you and help them out of their personal, living hell?
That's all.
"FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE
...Please"
All my life I've been knocked down, pushed in the ground and kicked around. I can't tell you how many times I've been told I shouldn't have been born. How I've cried at yet another disapointing friendship coming to an unnecessary end. I've been emotionally trashed, psychologically toyed with, physically made to feel helpless and spiritually tormented- and that is just by the hands of my family members. Think of what a toll this cruel and unforgiving society has inflicted upon me.
And yet, people are still so careless. They enter my heart and soul like a drunk enters a car, uncarring and relaxed, content until the end with whatever damage they may cause.
And though I am fragile, I am built to be quite resilient. Like Job, I take everything the Devil can give me and still manage to trust my Lord, Savior and friend to still provide salvation no mater the damnation I see lurking around every corner and in the eyes of everyone I seem to meet.
Despite all of my resilency and vivacious determination, I have a message for the world:
Be kinder to your bastard children, your widows, your divorcees, your psychologically instable. Haven't they suffered enough at the hands of Lucifer? Do not allow you body to house the foreign Agents of Sin, that is don't whore yourself out to Demons. Control your malicious thoughts and abusive language towards me and all of the other travelers. Do no harm, forgetting those who have harmed you.
I'm lucky, God has given me strength. Don't count on others to recover so well. Why be like a disease, defeating and consuming, when you could be the bringer of Light and show fruits of the spirit towards those around you and help them out of their personal, living hell?
That's all.
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