Just Another One of Those Nights

Nothing's wrong. Just spitting out poetry. :-)


I watch you from the outside,
my palm pressed flat against the window pane.
Heaven adored,
I gazed upon you from afar
but could never bring myself to reach through the barrier,
always an arms-length away.
The captive bird sings less sweetly
as it sits upon its perch in it cage.
I watch you through the bars and I open the door.
You were never mine to hold captive
and like a selfish child I clung needlessly.
You were never mine to begin with,
I free you to the sky, you are finally ready to take flight.
I have finally lost you.
Is this love,
that makes me hurt every time I fall?
Unrequited, I watch my breath making fog marks
on the glass between us,
this glass I was too weak to shatter.
Always barred off.
Always alone.
Always to fail.
Always to want just one more hug before the day is over.
Please hold me,
I'm not ready to let go...

Secrets: A Tragedy in Three Movements (The regular edit)

WRITER: Ladies and Gentlemen! Thank you for coming tonight! We've got a special treat in store for you! Watch carefully, lest you miss something important in what you are about to see.
It's the story of a girl: a tragedy in three movements. Three acts of conversation, pantomime, and perhaps even a little singing.
The setting is a non-existent time or place, in fact, there is no set at all! No scene changes or elborate costumes, few props, three actors total and one narrator of sorts. The set-up between acts is a black-out of the lights and when they come back up the stage will be set.
Without further ado I present to you, "Secrets: A Tragedy in Three Movements"

ACT 1

[Lights brighten to reveal a girl standing center stage. She wears jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, simple clothing, casual stance. Spotlight is centered on her.]

NARRATOR: This is Girl.
[Girl waves]
NARRATOR: She is young and trying to make a living as a singer. Listen as she studies to perfect her vocal ability, particularily the skill called "Sightsinging".
[Girl begins singing, at first simple scales, then moving on to more complex interval patterns on sol-feg syllables.]
NARRATOR: Sightsinging is killing her.
[Girl begins an extremely complex interval pattern, face becomes more nervous as pattern goes on, then Girl messes up, ending up singing wrong intervals in a completely different key. Stops singing and looks around nervously.]
MALE VOICE [offstage]: Sing "do"
[Girl sings "do" in new key]
MALE VOICE [offstage]: Sing "do"
[Girls tries again, but still sings "do" in new key]
MALE VOICE [offstage]: Sing "do"
[Girl looks stage left nervously, begins to hum "do" in new key, but stops knowing she's wrong]
MALE VOICE [offstage, more adamant]: Sing "do"!
GIRL [frustrated, stomping foot and throwing arms in air]: I can't!!! [Looks stage left sheepishly] I have the new "do" stuck in my head and I can't remember the old one...
[Silence for about ten seconds. Girl continues to look stage left nervously, shuffling her feet like an anxious horse]
NARRATOR: Sightsinging is killing her.
[Hear gunshot offstage, Girl collapases on floor. Scene is held for 30 seconds]
NARRATOR: But some things are never quite as hard if you've got a friend.
[Boy walks on stage right. He is dressed in jeans and a T-shirt]
NARRATOR: This is Boy
[Boy stops and waves, smiling, then continues until he is standing by collapsed Girl]
NARRATOR: Without Boy around, Girl would probably be dead, because sightsinging killed her. [Boy reaches down and takes Girl by the hand, helping her to her feet. Girl wobbles for a second, and Boy gives her a quick hug, patting her shoulder supportively, still gripping her hand. Girl looks at locked hands, scene freezes, lights black out]

ACT 2

Due to the author just being a stupid attention whore, Act 2 has been editted out of the public version of this work. It is only a cry for trouble and makes very obvious a sort-of secret that the author would prefer remain unspoken so as to not complicate certain things.
I'm sorry for any disappointment this may have caused.

ACT 3

[Lights brighten, Girl is alone on stage again. She sits indian-style center stage, the happy mask on the ground an arms-length away stage right, the piece of paper symblolizing a secret lies stage left]

GIRL: It gets cold sometimes, and very dark. Nobody understands how dark it gets, and I can't see. Anything. Nobody feels how much it hurts, even though there's nothing wrong. And people think that there's something wrong with me, that I'm some kind of monster that doesn't deserve to be loved because I sometimes feel that way. That I have some kind of psychotic mental issues because sometimes life gets to me, and instead of smiling and pretending everything's okay I let myself feel.
Sometimes it feels like there's something I'm missing, but I know that there's not, because I have everything I need to be happy. But then I begin to think that maybe it's something that I've never had there before, but then I ask myself, how can I miss something this much if it was never there in the first place for me to miss? And what could it possible be?
And it hurts so much...
[Boy enters stage right and begins to move towards Girl. She looks up at him and he stops, his arm extended toward her. Girl shakes her head and boy freezes]
GIRL: Sometimes I just say and do things that are stupid. I make trouble for myself because apprently I can never be satisfied with everything just the way it is. There's always something that I wish were different. But nobody understands how it's so cold and it's so dark and it hurts so much that it seems like there is no hug in the world big enough or long enough to make it go away. And I don't want it to be that way anymore.
Nobody understands how I'm so afraid that in the end I'm going to be all alone, because everyone is just going to leave me. Like there's a novelty that I possess, and once it wears off, they're uninterested.
I just don't want to hurt anymore...
[Girl looks back and forth between two items. She picks up the paper and rips it into tiny pieces, throwing it in the air like confetti. She picks up the happy mask and puts it over her face. She stands up and walks over to Boy. Boy comes to life again and smiles. The scene freezes and the lights black out]

[Curtain drops]

Being Sick

I remember when I was little I used to love being sick. Not only did I get to stay home from school, but I got to spend the day at work with my mom, sleeping while she went about her business. You see, my grandpa owned a drug store, and my mom worked in it. In the perscription area, in a little corner in the back, was a small alcove they used as a sort of break area. In that area was a huge reclining arm chair with a soft, sort-of fleecy unicorn blanket. So if my brother or I were sick and had to stay home from school before the age we were allowed to stay home alone, we would get to spend the entire day sleeping in the big comfy arm chair with Mom and Grandpa milling about us with concern: Bringing us tissues, cups of water, and steaming bowls of Chicken Soup heated in the microwave in the back room.
Now I hate being sick. It's an incredible incovenience to everything, its painful to the extent that cannot be ignored at all, and, worst of all, there's no big comfy arm chair and Grandpa to make it better! Being sick in college means resting enough to be able to maintain consciousness for a full day's worth of school and then sucking it up the rest of the time until you're back in good health. Ick.
I wake up in the middle of the night and swallow to find that doing so feels like someone has taken a knife and stabbed me in the throat with it. My poor little nose is red and chaffed and hurts everytime I blow it, but it won't stop being stuffed up, so I have to blow it constantly, making it worse. Occasionally when I breathe deep enough you can hear the phlegm rattling in my throat and I cough up gray-green yellow chunks of disgustingness constantly, the act of which hurts my sore throat more than swallowing does.
I can see why no one ever said that being sick was glamorous.
Right now I just want to cuddle up somewhere cozy, have someone tuck me in and bring me a bowl of chicken noodle soup with crackers and tell me that I don't have to go back to school until I feel better, without being penalized or falling so far behind in work its impossible to catch up.
I hate the fact that these days there's no such thing as a day off.
And there's still so much work to be done...

Wasting Time

Maybe I'll just start making a habit of stopping in the library to fire off a post every Monday between 10 and 11am. ;-)
As it were, I've been thinking a lot (Oh boy! Someone stop her, now!!! :-P) and I've come to realize that I've been making up excuses to be mean to people (well, particularily one person through whatever venting outlet I can sucessfully do so) and think that this one person deserves it because of how they treated me.
So this person to an extent really deserves to have their eyes gouged out with a rusted, puss-coated, bloody fork; or to be abandoned completely by the people that this person cares most about without any due reason except that they found that they just "couldn't take this person's personality flaws anymore"; or bashed across the back of the head with a 2 by 4... but even that's me being mean again.
It's trivial. What's done is done, and maybe this person will find themself faced with a bad-ass karma check, or maybe they'll spend the rest of their life never really realizing or coming to terms with how much of an ass they were in the given situation. Some people are just content to believe that they are always always right, even when they know somewhere in their heart they were wrong. It lets them sleep at night, it gives them the ability to look in the mirror every morning, and the ability to be guilt-free despite what terrible things they may have done to try to bring a person down, to make themself feel superior.
It's not my place to be bitter and mean because they wronged me. I have the right to resent them and have my opinion of them lessened and even hate them, but I don't have the right to be mean or emit slanderous statements when I know they're not around to listen. That's not who I am, and I almost feel bad that I let myself become the person who does something like that. I suppose my justification was that if they were going to see me as being this disgusting, horrible, unlovable monster, then as far as they're concerned I may as well act the way that they described me. *Shrugs* Yeah. And I almost just want to be a bitch and say: So sue me for wanting to simply fight pettiness with pettiness.
I guess at the heart of it all I just really really hate unresolved conflicts, so it's hard for me to just let this go.
There are plenty of bigger things to worry about: Such as the million and a half things I have to get done on any given day or the most current reason I have for thinking of myself as a completel idiot. I "took this weekend off" and I think I'm going to regret it. There's so much that needs to be done, and not near enough time to get any of it done, and my desire to goof off often overcomes my work ethic. As the days pass I only get busier and busier and busier and busier...
A break really could not come soon enough, and I still have to keep pressing through another week and a half before that break comes.
The only thing I can think now is: What if I don't make it until then?

A Big Boost of Confidence in a Little Window of Time **Revised**

For lack of anything better to do (and because it beats studying for my Diction test) I've decided to use this spare hour to attempt to blog a little bit, since it's been so long since I've had anything to say.
It's actually not even that I haven't had anything to say, it's just that when I get these vaque revelations of brilliance, I'm usually not capable of putting my thoughts down, and when I sit at my computer they're gone and I, alas, don't actually have the time to ponder until they come back.
My life is insanely busy. With crazy classes and homework out the whazoo, the week seems to blur past with split-second timing to introduce a weekend that only seems to go even faster, since it's the only chill time I get and, of course, the minutes whiz past when you find yourself doing something actually enjoyable (I'm not in a cliche mood).
I've decided I'm going to try to manage my work better so that I can take a random night in the middle of the week to goof off without feeling guilty because I haven't accomplished anything (then again, it actually seems as though I always end up goofing off in my evenings anyways, except for Wednesdays, because Lord knows 24 hours isn't a long enough Wednesday for me. I need at least a 48-hour Wednesday!). But along with that work management comes the fact that I really need to be practicing more as well.
On top of all of that, I'm on journalism assignment this week to write a government-related story, and at the moment I'm pulling at strings that are connected to nothing. I'd almost prefer he give me something very specific to go and cover, because I have no clue what to do, and there's just not enough time to ponder over it for long. Augh!!!!!!
So I guess you can see why I don't have time to think of my little quips of brilliance and send them into the world. When you move at the lightning-fast pace that I do anymore you barely have time to breathe, let alone mull over the mysteries of life, love and that hackneyed pursuit of happiness.
New friends bring new attitudes and people who I thought could only hurt me and would make me feel like less of a person only succeeded in making me more sure of myself and aware of the fact that I'm so much better than I had previously relegated myself to. Some people never learn from their mistakes. Especially people who are too afraid of life to see their own mistakes and admit that they have flaws just like everyone else, therefore never accepting the imperfections that mark their character as human.
I'm smiling today, because it's the start of a new week, and nobody is going to step on my spirit again. Ever. I dare them to try.