Maybe There's Something in the Fall

Your smile... Well, it kills me, because it's the same one I used to wear. And I know it's not right, it's not pretty, and it's never fair, but it's true.

And the truth will set you free. Maybe.

I walk with you in strange places we've never been yet know to perfection, with winding roads that lead to vacant valleys and shallow hollows with sighing leaves. There's a crackle on the sidewalk, and a snap to the footsteps, and it makes my heart sink into my chest.

It's almost here.

Icicles close in, though I know it's far too warm. Your breath is hot and I'm shivering without a coat. Some days I smile, some days I laugh. Most days I sigh. My hands are trembling, but not from fear or joy--just from going through the motions.

That's what they said. Run through those damn motions.

It's almost here.

Plastic or paper matters little, because we'll all be trapped in ice sooner or later. Probably sooner. Your breath is frozen, steam turned to icicles, dripping from your lips. I'm entranced by the image of you, ghostly white, falling, falling, falling...

Falling faster, faster faster. Falling still. Colder than the deepest hell.

Somebody killed beauty while she slept up in that silly tower.

She's vanished.

It's here.

For Katy

My grandmother passed away on Friday, October 10, 2008. As a final tribute to the wonderful woman she was, all of the grandchildren put together a beautiful board covered in writing, pictures, memories, etc. I was asked to write a poem, and I found it fitting to share it here.

Goodbye, Grandma C. We love you and we're glad you made it home.

For Katy

Narrow way, my road two lanes
A sudden fork breaks my thought
Lined with houses, window panes
A third road I had never sought

The people, unlike many I’d met
A closely-knit-together bunch
At the center, two people set
Upon dissolving any crunch

One of the two, a fire fierce
Presiding over jocular din
Stubborn grin, eyes set to pierce
Any who dared cross her kin

Love, dependent not on blood
Nor on the quantity of days
Rather, on the enduring flood
Of care that fueled her blaze

Welcoming, with softened words
That took down ancient fences
Familial, sweet, something absurd
Evinced flaws in my defenses

Now time, he’s but a funny friend
A reminder of present and past
Whispering darkly, of an end
Of the fire that would pass

Narrow way, the road three lanes
A sudden fall breaks our run
The candles low in window panes
But her fire still burns on.

Me, Being Strange.

Oh, all the things I've seen and not seen. Sometimes I wonder what lies invisible to me, just out of reach, felt but not touched...

You know?

I can be in a room with just a few people and feel like there's a crowd behind me. I feel it. I can sense the emotions, like I've said a million times before. It's not clear, or precise, or sometimes even accurate. Inaccuracy is sort of rare in this gift of mine, but it does happen every now and then, when someone is especially good at faking.

But I feel the presence of people. People that aren't nearby...at all. I don't think it's weird, though, because it's probably just my own emotions going haywire. I don't know, maybe?

Strangeness. I live in such an odd world. And I really, truly, passionately love it.

Stutters and Wrongs

The walls are closing in.

Left, right
I hear the echos of the cries
I hear the tears of joy and pain
I hear the empty, hollow thoughts.

Above, below
I feel the conflict in the eyes
I feel the terror felt in vain
I feel the time so often sought.

Around, within
I see the truth one so denies
I see the loss in battle's gain
I see the lies that had been bought.

Left--right
Above--below
Around--within
The walls are closing in.

Ohhhctober.

I have approximately 2 minutes to "chill" so I figured I'd update this guy. Yes, I'm pretty sure my blog is male, because it acts moody and immature and refuses to cooperate all the time...

Anyway. Life's been a series of ridiculous roller coasters lately. Last week was long. Homecoming was very fun on Saturday. And today, I'm sick as a dog [again] and I left school early to mend. I also had to call into work, something I am very not happy about doing.

But whatever. Too late now, right? I've got a fever and I want to curl up into a ball and sleep for the next ten years. It's not enough that I already slept all day. However, there will be no ten-year nap.

Right now I'm doing an English project [waiting for one member's slides, so I have a few minutes] and then I'm working on my Yale application. I already finished the one for MSU and I'm almost done with Oakland [my "backup in case MSU gets blown up," as my mother says] so within the next week or so I should be golden in the application category. My absolutely wonderful teachers have agreed to do the evaluation forms for the Yale app, so that's all settled...

Sorry, I'm running through my mental list of things to do. There's way too many of them, you see, and I'm not sure how to accomplish it all.

Oh, and I got made fun of the other day for having a blog and not putting my real name on it. A teacher found that--to be frank--rather "stupid." I resisted the urge to laugh for these reasons:

1. He's a rather arrogant guy who never thinks he's wrong,
2. He really doesn't get computer-age topics,
3. I'd rather have a blog than ten empty friendships, and
4. I have better things to do than put my real name out there and get raped.

Ha. What a day. What a week. What a month.

Goodnight.

I Thought I Heard Your Thoughts

There's a dream and a reality
A practical state of MIA
A radical practicality
So stunning, so dreamlike

A quality I can't quite taste
Fingertips tracing pretty frost patterns
You're soaring high above me
Yet so far below my expectations

I'll be, you'll be
Don't wait up for me this time
Solidly invisible and loudly unheard
Somehow a miracle occurs

Tiptoe on murky glass
Your words echo in my own
Squared shoulders to frame the heart
Cast of stone to set it straight

I saw you there
Saw you standing in the shadows
I saw you, I felt your presence
I promised to honor this
And I will
Keep searching in the corners of my eyes.

I Hurt.

I am so, so, so, so sore. Hurts to walk and such. I worked 4 to 10 on Friday and 8 to 5 yesterday, and I don't think I'm ever going to recover.

They had me working all over the place. First bakery [because we don't serve regular food at opening], then cafe register, then back to bakery. I worked most of my time in bakery, obviously, and though that is one of the coolest places to be, I was still VERY ready to go home by three pm.

Doesn't help that I'm still sick. My voice is back [well, right now it's my "morning voice" and it's all scratchy and gross] but I'm absolutely dragging. Steroids are helping tremendously...not resting is not.

I'm still not supposed to abuse my voice, and guess what I did all day yesterday? If I can't talk again next week, I will be royally and furiously angry.

Oh, and I'm ridiculously melodramatic when I'm sick, so expect these posts to be that way. Can't help it--I can't sleep right now, and it's making me cranky. Very cranky.

Argh. I'll post sometime later this week. I won't have time tomorrow, I'm working four to ten...shoot me in the foot...

"Fake it like you matter--that's a lie we can both keep."

FOB, Sending Postcards From a Plane Crash (Wish You Were Here). Love that song.

I've noticed that people are a bit self-righteous. Have you noticed that?

Makes me laugh a little. So what if you're better than me at something? Get over it. I could kick yours in something else. In quite a few things, actually.

So what if you finally beat me at my own game? Doesn't mean I have to acknowledge it. Doesn't mean you have to rub it in every single day.

And so what if you finally shattered me, broke me down, reduced me to nothing in others' eyes?

Doesn't mean I deserve to hear you say those nasty things about me. You don't even let me turn around so you can do the talking behind my back...

So get over yourself. Fake it like you matter, and maybe I won't smear your name to the people who do. Because despite the fact that you think they won't believe me, I'm pretty sure they would.

So what? :]

Silence, Fool!

Oh, funny story. I haven't had a voice since Monday.

Laryngitis, much? I sound like a chain smoker. Ridiculous.

Today I gained back some volume, but it lasted only until about the middle of fifth hour. From there on out, it's been nothingness coming out of my mouth.

I just tried to sing along to my playlist [I listen to it when I'm on my laptop... Tongue Tied was playing lol] and I quite literally cannot make singing noises. Not that my singing was anything wonderful to begin with, but now it's just strained silence.

Funny, isn't it? I've spent the past few days screaming to be heard in a whisper. And I've spent the majority of my life always having something to say.

Sucks a bit. I lie... Sucks majorly.

Michigandering [Yes, It's a Verb.]

I read this article just now about some personality profile done to analyze the fifty states. Quite comical, actually.

My home state, however, was not mentioned. I'm wondering how Michigan came out...

My best guess? Michiganders are just plain tough. We deal with a freezing winter, a sweltering summer, endless downpours in spring, and rapid daylight loss in fall. Our economy has gone to hell and ALL of our highways suck. Construction is a constant hassle and road rage a second nature. We call our soda "pop" and get made fun of for it. Oh, and the mayor of our most well-known city is in jail right now with a few felonies under his belt...and our news stations won't shut up about it.

If I had to pick another trait, I would go with proud. Despite all the crap we put up with, we brag incessantly. We have amazingly beautiful trees in autumn, a history that few other states could understand, and universities that can't be rivaled. Everywhere you go, there's a lake and a shore you can enjoy, and damn it, we've got two peninsulas. What other state has yoopers and trolls?

So we're arrogant fighters to the core. We can insult our state, but don't you dare try it, or we'll throw down so hard you'll be in Texas by next Tuesday.

And you don't want to be all the way down there, do you?

Damnsel in Distress

Note the "n" there. Ha, ha. Irony. Sounds like "damn," get it?

Anyway.

I fall down. A lot. More than the average human should. I run into stationary objects, I collide with moving objects, I fall up and down stairs, I forget how to walk sometimes, and I take corners too sharply...and smack the entire side of my body on the door frame.

So I'm not exactly graceful, you might say. In fact, I'm the antithesis to any graceful action. I am the equal and opposite reaction that Newton warned us about. The clumsy little thing your mother warned you about.

But I would not call myself a "damsel in distress." See, the whole "in distress" part seems to imply that the damsel is not always in such a state. She doesn't usually trip over that crack in the sidewalk, only every now and then.

I trip over it every time. And I'm really no damsel--that implies elegance, and a certain desire to be saved from a tall tower by a handsomely ignorant prince.

Not a damsel. Just perpetually distressed.

Happy Things

I don't really want the world to think I see the glass as perpetually half-empty, so let's fill this blog halfway up with happy things. :]

First and foremost, my new profile image. It's me and my youngest cousin [youngest out of ALL of them, mind you!], whom we shall call D-Van on here. He's absolutely adorable, and I love that picture of the two of us.

Second, cider mills. Went to one today with my family and our neighbors, who also happen to have two adorable children. The oldest just learned her address and likes to recite it randomly--she's a very good little girl--and her brother laughs at everything.

Third, Panera babies. I saw the cutest little kids on Friday at work. Twins, a boy and a girl, less than a year old, curled up together in their stroller. One of the purest, nicest, most beautiful things I've ever seen in my whole life. Of course, they had those piercing eyes, the kind that see straight through to your soul and make your heart melt.

Of course, there are happy things that don't involve children, too. Like movies that came out when I was little that are now free with OnDemand. Or books I haven't read in years winding up next to my bed because I finally dusted them off.

Or taking a nap on a backyard swing, drifting in and out while writing a journal entry to my sister in our sacred NoteBook.

Like I said, happy things. My glass isn't half-empty. It just has to be refilled every now and then.

Lesson #24: Stupid, Stupid, Stupid.

I ate a bunch of almonds today while I was at the cider mill.

I'm allergic to almonds.

I feel not so great and my face is numb.

I'm very, very, very stupid.

Is this even possible?

I didn't know it could happen. I didn't realize that I could feel an emotion this deep.

I never knew anyone could do what you've done and get away with it.

I'm your doormat. Your stepladder. Your last resort. You see only what you can get from me and nothing more. You think I can withstand anything you throw at me. You think I'm tough enough to handle rejection and exclusion without shedding a tear.

I'm nothing but an accessory with a functioning mind.

And I'm about done with it all.

Ten Degrees of Awful

I feel like terribleness, all rolled up in misery.

What a great way to spend my first free weekend.

Apple orchard today with Kailey, possibly concert tonight for Disko's [my somewhat younger--but much taller--brother] band, and then enough homework to keep me busy ALL day tomorrow.

I will have fun, definitely. But I won't be feeling nicely. :/

Oh, Shut the Front Door.

Thanks, Cass, for that lovely phrase. That's what big sisters are for--to teach the little ones alternative methods of expressing rage. :]

I refuse to speak of school in this post, so don't worry about that. Nothing could prompt me to talk about that infernal place.

Here's my newest dealio:

College mail.

If I get one more letter from Grinnell College [whatever the hell that is] I'm going to light my shoes on fire.

If Evansville, Hope, Knox, Calvin, Eastern, Western, Lake Superior State, Renesselaur, Johns Hopkins, Yale, and the millions of others really think I'm interested in them, wouldn't they have to have some sort of evidence of that interest? A survey I took where I mentioned them, or a phone call? Or anything?

They have nothing. I've never even heard of most of these schools. I have no interest in them whatsoever.

In the past three days, I've gotten so much college mail that the mail barely fits inside the mailbox. I get more letters than the rest of my family combined.

My sisters are totally bogged, too, so much so that I'm considering having a bonfire this weekend just to dispose of some of it. My house is full of this crap.

Disgusting. If I wanted you, I would say so. So go away.

Please.

"They Speak in Clever Tongues..."

There were days that I loved you, days that I hated you, hours that I needed you more than oxygen, hours that I needed you like a brain aneurysm, minutes that passed slowly in your absence, minutes that passed slowly in your presence, seconds that felt too sweet to last, seconds that felt too bitter to last.

We were all going to go to heaven when we were done.

We were all going to go straight to hell when it was over.

There were weeks when the days blurred, the hours melted, the minutes spun, and the seconds sped. There were times when I felt I could not love, hate, need, or feel anymore.

We were heading down a path I couldn't wait to travel.

We were heading down a road that no man could ever traverse.

There was time. There was none. There were people. There was no one. There were words. There was silence.

And in the thick of it all, there was me. And you.