goodbyes

a plane takes off
a car drives away,
and we save our goodbyes
for another day.

the letter unsent
the call unmade
we'll never forget
the games we've played.

and now i'm gone
and wish i could say,
but indifference causes
the words to slip away.

truth

driving home from the grocery store with the windows down, the wind whispers her name
the crinkle of plastic as the bags attempt to escape from their guards of eggplant and mascara

come find me...

last minute turn onto the freeway, the child's carseat leans precariously, light without its cargo

her options are Cheyenne or Las Vegas
she chooses the latter and drives for ten minutes and then hops off the freeway as she came

she drives home with a smile on her face and a secret that will pull her through the diapersbottleshomeworklaundrydinnerdishes

she is there by choice

reality bites

I am entering the landed gentry in the next month or so. I suppose I should feel relieved that I now have the power to vote and such as well as amazing tax deductions. I can't help but feel, however, that I'm leaving and epic part of my life behind. Heretofore I've been free to declare bankruptcy without fear of losing really anything, so why should I break my back buying health insurance??? Now, I no longer have that luxury. *sigh*

Pics to come.

the upperclassman

he sits and stares at the new group of freshman,
each as fresh as they were the year before.
their hair as perfect as they are thin,
and he wonders why they aren't noticing him more;
he has the same generals and entrance level classes,
though this past year he's blemished again with glasses.

he goes through his usual routine,
asking out the youngest, prettiest girls;
he wonder's what they mean,
when they tell him he 'hurls.'
the slang is lost on his aging ears,
a thing he doesn't realize he fears.

for though the girls are as new as a daisy,
and he sits in the beginning classes as ever;
his skin is sagging and he's gotten lazy,
and the slightest chill can cause a fever.
for he's grown old without choosing from his dolls,
and now he's the sad old man, prowling campus halls.

--dedicated

Blogging

I have been blessed with several different blog forums and have decided to try the latest and greatest. Whenever I begin something new, I frequently have a bout of nostalgia. So to attempt to combat this, I include a few things written in previous blogs; enjoy.

I'm writing this letter from the corner of a house on the edge of a city in the attic of a country in the center of a world. I am here to represent myself, I have no grandiose dreams of engulfing the world in my aspirations and ideals, merely an inkling of what I am myself, and who knows where that will take me. It didn't take me to you.

Oh my heart aches tonight. Perhaps it's the cold, fighting its way in and settling where it will hurt the most. Perhaps it's the onset of winter, and what that entails. Or perhaps it's just that eternal loneliness that eats away at each one of us. I yearn for another soul. I yearn for love. Perhaps the snow has turned me melancholy. Perhaps my eyes have been covered by flakes.

Let's skip the formalities, I really don't have the time to waste on them. I will be your proctor, and this is your exam, you may begin at any time.
No. Breaks are not allowed, though you may use the phone from time to time. Oh, I must warn you however, it really only works one way. You can talk into it, but you won't hear anyone on the other side. Someone's listening though.
You can talk amongst yourselves, but ultimately, you're the one that has to decide who's right. I recommend trusting your gut. Or you closest friend. As soon as you finish, you may leave. Or, if I determine you are finished.
You've been preparing for this test for a long time now, you'll do fine. It's only a few hours.

There's just one more thing. I'm going to erase your memory.


NOW.

And so it passes, and so it ends. I find myself staring at my reflection, wondering who this new face is holding my gaze. How do people around me not notice? I feel different, like I'm a diamond who has recently been unearthed. Can't you see the beauty behind all the dirt? Don't you recognize my potential? How could you not...

Friday has a certain undescribable magnetism about it. A heavy cloud cover laid low over campus today, and whereas any other day you could see the gloom on the students' faces, today it looked as if campus was a beach and the sun was shining. Everyone smiles, for despite the Physics quiz lurking next week, there is the inpenetrable buffer of The Weekend... I'll deal with that after the weekend. Everyone is hopefully optimistic, and generally everything seems to go right. How could it not, it's Friday?! A cancelled quiz in Calculus, the candy machine gave me two packages of M&M's when I paid for one, I got 10/10 on my Chemistry quiz, there were free samples of Lime Diet Coke, etc... A guy sits next to me on the bus talking on his cell phone to his girlfriend, he's going to propose tonight. It's Poker Night, Date Night, Girl's Night Out, Movie Night... We're going dancing, to a concert, watching a movie, making out. It's Friday! And when this weekend is over, what will come of it? Next week will inevitably come. The weekend will seem like a waste, the kisses trite, the romanticism lost in the harsh reality of Monday's sun. The hang-overs will hurt, but not as much as the broken hearts. And next Friday morning we'll wake up, the past weekend forgotten in the monotony of the week, and our hearts will leap. It's Friday! I have no plans, nobody's asked me out, no one wants to hang out with me, but still! It's Friday!



That was a lovely jog down memory lane. Next time we start from scratch.