The shadows hide around corners and sneak under doors
The mere idea of light scares them off.
They slither away as fast as they came
With the sunset, the heat does not stray.
It crawls into our very pores and curls up, sucking out all moisture and life.
Motivation
to do anything
vanishes as quick as the dew
Glinting,
Flashing, for a moment and then gone.
It is pushed away with the idea of cold lemonade and heat-heavy dreams
The air is so dry it nearly scratches our throats out.
Each molecule is laden with heat and the night settles
heavy as a wool blanket,
but not nearly as comforting.
We wish we could pant,
like the dog lying spread-eagle in that rare patch of shade
because sweating is not enough.
Sweating does not save us from this heat. It seems to make it worse.
The only relief would be
a crisp
clear
swan dive
into the deep end of the pool
Where you disappear,
safe and saved,
cool
and cold
and refreshed,
a speck at the bottom of the pool.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Sunday, April 6, 2014
A Picnic Long Forgotten
Paper plates and plastic forks,
Seeds shot from empty teeth.
Smell of sulfur,
Burning lights,
Distant thunder,
Endless nights.
Words all mixed together,
Laugh until it hurts,
Fly so fast dear summer,
Bring back that lovely fun.
Bring back the stars that shine this bright
Bring back the gleaming sun,
Bring back my heart, my dreams, my dear,
We all need you here.
Seeds shot from empty teeth.
Smell of sulfur,
Burning lights,
Distant thunder,
Endless nights.
Words all mixed together,
Laugh until it hurts,
Fly so fast dear summer,
Bring back that lovely fun.
Bring back the stars that shine this bright
Bring back the gleaming sun,
Bring back my heart, my dreams, my dear,
We all need you here.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Only So Much Happy
Like the wind through the trees she ran
Like the bird song on the breeze she sang
Like the sunset she smiled
But for what?
Like a saint she gave
She was the new Robin Hood,
the new Peter Pan.
But for what?
Her life was a mess,
her home a war zone
But she woke up and painted on her mask,
buried under her sparkling smile
and singing voice
but for what?
For who?
Why smile when all you have is hurt?
Why run to when from is so much better?
She had no one to smile for,
no one to trade secrets with,
no one but the trees.
The trees and the river and the birds were there,
always,
but never enough.
It gets a little hard when they never talk back.
There's is only so much happy one can have
when none is reciprocated.
Like the bird song on the breeze she sang
Like the sunset she smiled
But for what?
Like a saint she gave
She was the new Robin Hood,
the new Peter Pan.
But for what?
Her life was a mess,
her home a war zone
But she woke up and painted on her mask,
buried under her sparkling smile
and singing voice
but for what?
For who?
Why smile when all you have is hurt?
Why run to when from is so much better?
She had no one to smile for,
no one to trade secrets with,
no one but the trees.
The trees and the river and the birds were there,
always,
but never enough.
It gets a little hard when they never talk back.
There's is only so much happy one can have
when none is reciprocated.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Hey Orange
"Hey Orange,"
I challenge you to a duel of soccer. A fight (to the friendship)
Can you even comprender?
"Hey Orange,"
Lets go on an adventure.
Lets drive off into the sunset in this red truck and eat tamales until we're stuffed.
Then we'll eat some more.
"Hey Orange,"
Let's be friends forever and ever even though we live in two different countries.
But no matter.
Country lines change not feelings or the stars.
They change not words, they only translate them.
"Hey Orange,"
These days are dwindling. Why must you leave?
Who will I make weird faces at in the middle of clase de matematicas?
"Hey Orange,"
I wasn't sure if you had left yet or not, so I ran to the bus station to see if you had gone.
I saw only a flash of hair as you disappeared, a whiff of a memory.
Why must these things end so quickly?
Why do all the good things end, when the bad things seem to never go away?
"Hey Orange,"
Who even is in charge of life? Who even makes up these rules, and makes us follow them? Why only 5 days, why not a month?
Tape this sacred piece of red to your wall. The one with the remembrances and blue jeans interwoven.
And one last thing.
"Hey Orange,"
Never forget me.
I challenge you to a duel of soccer. A fight (to the friendship)
Can you even comprender?
"Hey Orange,"
Lets go on an adventure.
Lets drive off into the sunset in this red truck and eat tamales until we're stuffed.
Then we'll eat some more.
"Hey Orange,"
Let's be friends forever and ever even though we live in two different countries.
But no matter.
Country lines change not feelings or the stars.
They change not words, they only translate them.
"Hey Orange,"
These days are dwindling. Why must you leave?
Who will I make weird faces at in the middle of clase de matematicas?
"Hey Orange,"
I wasn't sure if you had left yet or not, so I ran to the bus station to see if you had gone.
I saw only a flash of hair as you disappeared, a whiff of a memory.
Why must these things end so quickly?
Why do all the good things end, when the bad things seem to never go away?
"Hey Orange,"
Who even is in charge of life? Who even makes up these rules, and makes us follow them? Why only 5 days, why not a month?
Tape this sacred piece of red to your wall. The one with the remembrances and blue jeans interwoven.
And one last thing.
"Hey Orange,"
Never forget me.
A Week Away From Home
On Friday the 7th of March, at about 6 o' clock a van full of Waldorf children pulled up to the Waldorf School of Orange County. The van stopped, and they all piled out, running to their parents and shouting greetings in Spanish. The reason for the Spanish is that the students had just returned from a week in Mexico, and it seems that they had temporarily forgotten English.
Every year the Waldorf School of Orange County hosts 13 or so Mexican students from CETYS University in Mexicali, Mexico. 10th grade families host these kids for 5 days (which is far too short if you ask me) and at the end they return to Mexico whence they came. 4 months later, in March, the host kids of the families head over to Mexico for 5 days and stay with their long lost hermanos. They spend 5 days there, essentially becoming a Mexican for their time there. Spanish is spoken and many tamales eaten, many friends made and too many names forgotten. They are introduced to so many different people, how can they possibly remember all the names?
Of course the children were happy to be home--were happy to see their parents, but a little part of them was having a very hard time with the fact that they were no longer with their happy-go-lucky new friends.
You see, the children in Mexico, at least the ones they met, are very different from California kids. They seemed to be happy the whole time. There was never a shortage of conversation topics, and everyone was so welcoming. They made the Waldorf kids feel special. They asked them all about their lives, how it was different. They joked around with them, called them "orange." (as they are from Orange County this is a very fitting name.)
And even though it was only 5 days, by pulling them into their family, their culture, and treating them as their best friends, for those 5 short days the kids of Waldorf School of Orange County felt special.
Every year the Waldorf School of Orange County hosts 13 or so Mexican students from CETYS University in Mexicali, Mexico. 10th grade families host these kids for 5 days (which is far too short if you ask me) and at the end they return to Mexico whence they came. 4 months later, in March, the host kids of the families head over to Mexico for 5 days and stay with their long lost hermanos. They spend 5 days there, essentially becoming a Mexican for their time there. Spanish is spoken and many tamales eaten, many friends made and too many names forgotten. They are introduced to so many different people, how can they possibly remember all the names?
Of course the children were happy to be home--were happy to see their parents, but a little part of them was having a very hard time with the fact that they were no longer with their happy-go-lucky new friends.
You see, the children in Mexico, at least the ones they met, are very different from California kids. They seemed to be happy the whole time. There was never a shortage of conversation topics, and everyone was so welcoming. They made the Waldorf kids feel special. They asked them all about their lives, how it was different. They joked around with them, called them "orange." (as they are from Orange County this is a very fitting name.)
And even though it was only 5 days, by pulling them into their family, their culture, and treating them as their best friends, for those 5 short days the kids of Waldorf School of Orange County felt special.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Manifest Destiny
Man-i-fest
verb
1) to make clear or evident to the eye or the understanding; show plain.
2)to prove; put beyond doubt or question
Des-ti-ny
noun
the predetermined, usually inevitable or irresistible, course of events.
noun
verb
1) to make clear or evident to the eye or the understanding; show plain.
2)to prove; put beyond doubt or question
Des-ti-ny
noun
the predetermined, usually inevitable or irresistible, course of events.
Manifest Destiny
the belief or doctrine, held chiefly in the middle and latter part of the 19th century, that it was the destiny of the U.S. to expand its territory over the whole of North America and to extend and enhance its political, social, and economic influences.
To manifest ones destiny is a completely different idea than Manifest Destiny, in the Puritan's sense of the words. The Puritans used this "manifest destiny" as an excuse to kill off all the Natives and take their land. In the name of "God", in the name of "freedom", and in the name of European "Union".
To manifest ones destiny is different. To put all of your energy and belief towards one goal, one end point, one checkpoint. To make your life what you want it to be is beautiful, not at all like what the Europeans did to America. I believe that if we all put our energy and our thoughts and our good intentions towards one collective goal, it will happen.
This manifestation of our own destiny is what we are doing right now. We want so badly to get back to our home in Wisconsin, but everything that life throws at us is making it a little difficult right now. But we have decided to manifest our own destiny and push all of our energy and good thoughts towards August 1st, and us being home and sitting by our bubbling stream by that date.
So help us manifest our destiny! With multitudes of combined thoughts and good intentions pushing us towards that date, the universe won't be able to refuse us. With everyone focusing on one clear goal it is bound to come true.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Nothing lost but Lipstick
The music could have been better but the food was fantastic.
There was pineapple and melon and popcorn and chips and sandwiches. I'm still confused about why I was the only one eating the strawberries. They had a Snow-Cone machine and ice cream. All for free. How nice of dear Pasadena Waldorf High School.
That is where all the memories of my 9th & 10th grade Winter Formal are stored. They are captured in moments of time and beats of a song. They are ground into the dirt by the bouncing heels. They are spilled down the front steps like glitter and lost on the bus with my disappearing lipstick. They are happening again and again in alternate universes and I am overjoyed every time they play the song again.
I met a person named Quinn who had boundless energy and was from San Diego, introducing himself to us to "break the ice." He reminded me of Patrick from The Perks of Being a Wallflower, except for the gay part--I met his girlfriend too.
A side note: If you haven't seen The Perks of Being a Wallflower, stop reading this immediately and go watch it. If you're under 13, tell your parents first and then go watch it. It is not a cheesy chick flick in the slightest and if you say you don't like it, we can no longer be friends. I'm sorry. And for all you movie vs. book critics out there, the movie is directed by the author, so whatever argument you think you have is no longer valid. (EOE, ZAM)
Anyways, Quinn and his girlfriend reminded me of Sam and Patrick in their shameless dancing and nonjudgmental character. I seriously thought to myself that I would like to meet someone who I can be like that with when I grow up. Who am I kidding-I'm never growing up.
The music drifted between dubstep and dubstep, with the occasional dubstep thrown in. When they finally played something danceable they cut it off in the middle of the song. In what universe does that make sense? The real question is, who rules that universe?
The bus ride on the way back was considerably less loud than the one on the way there, and this one was filled with the sharing of life stories. (there is surprisingly a lot of information under the 'Life story' category for a 16 year old.)
Many hugs were exchanged when we reached the school, even though we would be seeing each other in less than 36 hours. A party can do that to people-The love is magnified.
I grew closer to the people I wanted to and the only thing I lost was my lipstick.
I met some people who renewed my faith in the teenage race and showed me we might have a chance of not destroying the world with our shallow attitudes.
And since I'm terrible at endings I'm just going to end this now. Good Night.
There was pineapple and melon and popcorn and chips and sandwiches. I'm still confused about why I was the only one eating the strawberries. They had a Snow-Cone machine and ice cream. All for free. How nice of dear Pasadena Waldorf High School.
That is where all the memories of my 9th & 10th grade Winter Formal are stored. They are captured in moments of time and beats of a song. They are ground into the dirt by the bouncing heels. They are spilled down the front steps like glitter and lost on the bus with my disappearing lipstick. They are happening again and again in alternate universes and I am overjoyed every time they play the song again.
I met a person named Quinn who had boundless energy and was from San Diego, introducing himself to us to "break the ice." He reminded me of Patrick from The Perks of Being a Wallflower, except for the gay part--I met his girlfriend too.
A side note: If you haven't seen The Perks of Being a Wallflower, stop reading this immediately and go watch it. If you're under 13, tell your parents first and then go watch it. It is not a cheesy chick flick in the slightest and if you say you don't like it, we can no longer be friends. I'm sorry. And for all you movie vs. book critics out there, the movie is directed by the author, so whatever argument you think you have is no longer valid. (EOE, ZAM)
Anyways, Quinn and his girlfriend reminded me of Sam and Patrick in their shameless dancing and nonjudgmental character. I seriously thought to myself that I would like to meet someone who I can be like that with when I grow up. Who am I kidding-I'm never growing up.
The music drifted between dubstep and dubstep, with the occasional dubstep thrown in. When they finally played something danceable they cut it off in the middle of the song. In what universe does that make sense? The real question is, who rules that universe?
The bus ride on the way back was considerably less loud than the one on the way there, and this one was filled with the sharing of life stories. (there is surprisingly a lot of information under the 'Life story' category for a 16 year old.)
Many hugs were exchanged when we reached the school, even though we would be seeing each other in less than 36 hours. A party can do that to people-The love is magnified.
I grew closer to the people I wanted to and the only thing I lost was my lipstick.
I met some people who renewed my faith in the teenage race and showed me we might have a chance of not destroying the world with our shallow attitudes.
And since I'm terrible at endings I'm just going to end this now. Good Night.
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