Shadow

     With my headphones in my ears and hands in my pockets, I walked along every path on campus, kicking stones and acorns along the way. How was I going to decide what to do if my parents couldn't even agree upon what I should do? Was I selfish for wanting the semester in London? How would I feel if something happened to my dad while I was gone?
     I wandered back to the middle of campus, where I had started my campus trek. Dim orange lights from the student center shined on the grey cement blocks that made up the ground I was standing on. The music playing in my ears was a steady hum as I watched my shadow change shape while I walked toward my dorm. I suddenly found myself in a movie moment again, this one more pleasant, as I realized I had made my decision.
     Watching my shadow bend and morph on the different blocks of cement during my walk, I realized that my shadow represented me in more ways than just being the outline of my body in the light. It changed sizes and shapes, depending on the angle of the light and the texture of the ground. No matter how dim the light was or how jagged the ground was, my shadow was always stretched out next to me. My shadow adapted to the circumstances and always remained at my side.
     At this moment in my life, I had an opportunity in front of me, and I was going to take it. Just as my shadow faced different situations that night on the cement, I was going to face different circumstances in my life that won't always be easy. No matter the light or the terrain, my shadow was always next to me, fighting to be seen. Walking back to my dorm, I knew that I had to follow the example of my shadow. Although I was in the midst of a very difficult decision, I knew that I had to go to London. I wasn't going to give up on my dream,
     Today, I am packing my two 30' suitcases for London, hoping that I made the right decision....

Movie Moment

Within minutes, I felt as though the air was draining from my lungs like a deflating balloon. I was walking on a patch of grass in the middle of a busy campus on a sunny beautiful day, but suddenly it wasn't so picture perfect anymore. It seemed as if the sky began to darken and the people around me faded into a blur. It was a scene straight out of a movie, and it was scary.
     I sat down in the middle of the grass, people walking all around me, with my jaw sinking increasingly closer to the ground, my eyes growing gradually wider in disbelief. "I have [insert life threatening disease here]," my dad told me. Immediately my eyes filled up with tears, like a dam ready to burst.
     Looking back, I still can't remember exactly what he told me after he told me about his disease. I remember the coarseness of the grass in my fingers as I gripped the ground tight with one hand. I remember the bright sun that lit up my world, even though it seemed to be crashing down.

Wise Tree

Standing tall in the center of the neighborhood
     it seemed that the oak had been there before the people.
The roots dig deep into the ground
     and stretch far underneath the road.
A few dozen branches grow for miles in every direction
     while thick green leaves hang on it like Christmas decorations.
Thousands of acorns cover the ground
     a resounding crunch echoes each step.
Eyes have formed out of the dark creviced wood
     as the bark tells a story of generations past.


The large oak towers over all; tree of knowledge in my front yard.

Country Club Wives

Thin, tan, manicured - 

     words which describe ever single one of them.

Their children screaming while they divulge in drama

     over frozen drinks, poolside.

Some wear tiny bikinis, other wear floppy hats,

     even others wear a child on their hip.

Each of them decorated with a massive rock

     that sends blinding light as it catches the sun.

Little ones nipping at their ankles

     as they go for round two at the bar.

They chirp at each other and at their children

     like a choir of birds singing high in the treetops.

Daily visits to the pool with their children

     is the only obligation that they have.

Thin, tan, manicured.

Yes, they are beautiful women, with handsome husbands

     and wonderful children.

The perfect carefree life, full of promises that were not kept,

     goals that were not finished, and dreams that were not chased.

College Anxiety

      There were few places that Kelly felt more comfortable at than her childhood wooden swing set. A few years back she and her friends had broken it when they piled six or seven girls on it at the same time, so tonight Kelly had no swing to swing on. Instead she sat on the patchy grass where the childhood monument used to be, iPod ear buds in, munching on stale Cheetos.
     Despite her efforts to calm herself, her mind raced. Two mornings from now she would be sitting in her first college class at a school she knew she was going to hate. She moved in a week ago for soccer camp and decided that she had chosen the wrong school within 20 minutes of arriving to move in.
     Kelly ripped her nails apart with her teeth one by one. She wasn't used to feeling this uncomfortable. She was used to her posse of high school friends blindly following her every move, and her parents giving her what she wanted just to appease her for the day. Now her friends were all at different schools and everyone except her seemed to be enjoying themselves. Meanwhile, her parents believed that she was simply throwing another tantrum to get attention.
     She hit the up button on her iPod a few times to down out the sound of the crickets chirping.

Airport

Everyday, thousands of people step through the metal security barrier that separates 'here' and 'there.' Where are they going? Why are they going? Who will they see?
Rushing down the hallway, luggage in hand, each person and family keeps to themselves. Employees, other travelers, and even unusual wall decor goes unnoticed.
Who have they missed the chance to meet because their faces were buried in itineraries and boarding passes, rather than being in the moment?

Paula Creamer

No one ever notices my dimples,
...maybe that's because I have tons of them.
No one ever comments on how fast I go,
...maybe that's because I'm gone so quickly.
No one ever asks me for my name,
...maybe that's because it's written on me.
No one ever understands the pain I feel,
...maybe that's because I'm hit daily.
No one ever pays attention to what I want,
...maybe that's because her wants actually matter.

I'm yelled at, tossed around, and smacked repeatedly,
...but I don't have a choice.
After all, I'm just a Precept 4. The lady in pink
...is the one calling the shots.

Route Nineteen

A concrete garden sprouts on Route Nineteen

lush with weeds, moss, and plants,

fertilized with sewage waste,

and ripe with the smog of exhaust fumes.

A lonely sunflower grows in a concrete garden

on Route Nineteen, out of a sewer

full of unwanted plants

in a roadside garden.

A strip of sunlight shines on a lonely sunflower

as it struggles to survive

in a highway haven on Route Nineteen

against the odds of a polluted sky.
 

A looming cloud blocks a strip of sunlight

from feeding a flower

in attempts to water

a concrete garden on Route Nineteen.

The pavement on Route Nineteen provides

a special sort of environment 

which allows a sunflower to flourish

alongside the weeds in a sewer

on the side of the road.

Combination Lock

Wandering down this aisle
...of aged and dusty books
I wonder if the 'how to do this'
...and the 'rules for that'
are as outdated as
...the silver haired librarian.


In school we were always taught
....formulas, rules, and lessons
which were to lead us to success.

In school we were never taught
....lying, cheating, and stealing
might also lead to success.


In school we were always taught
....friends, relationships, and parents
would be there for you in the future.

In school we were never taught
....friends, relationships, and parents
would likely let you down in the future.


The teachers and the books
...prepared us for the simplest part
that we could have figured out ourselves;,
...and misguided us to believe
that the world out there was fair.


The would out there is not as simple
...as the combination lock on your old gym locker,
thirty four, twenty six, seventeen
...every single time.


No, the world out there guarantees
...that your lock played a dirty trick on you,
thirty for, twenty six, seventeen
...will never work a second time.

What to write about?

Recently I've felt like I don't have anything to write about. I keep trying to write about something at work, but I normally get interrupted and actually have to start doing something and lose my train of thought, or it just turns out like crap (and I mean worse than any of the crap I've posted on here).

Hopefully something will come to me soon. My 13 (14?) year old cousin is coming to visit tonight and staying until Saturday night. Maybe she'll provide some entertainment. It's sure to be a blast from the past of pre-high school drama.

Speaking of nothing related:
Healthy Foods - I need to eat more of these 

In other news, I really need to start working on my visa application. London is in a little over two months!

Catnap

.....One by one, the frown lines on her forehead and around her mouth smooth out until she looks completely peaceful. Sleep has overtaken her, whisked her away to a dream land in which stress and expectations do not pressure her. With her face flush against her pillow and her body wrapped in a fleece blanket, one has to wonder if she's laying on the beach, enjoying the sun in her dream.

.....The corner of her mouth twitches and suddenly she rolls over onto her back. Her hand blindly gropes for her phone under the blanket.

.....8:20 pm. She scrambles to find her history book, which fell on the floor as she dozed off in her bed. The frown lines creep back onto her small round face as she realizes her time left to study is rapidly decreasing.

.....The cover of her book seems to open itself as soon as she touches it, as if it were bursting with names, dates, and events that she needed to remember. Along with them were her old friends, stress and expectations, hovering quietly over her shoulders just in case her thoughts slipped away to a more pleasant place.

The Fall to Freedom

Each drop smacks my skin with a forceful plop,
and at first, I don't mind this fresh bath.
But as the rain picks up, forceful becomes painful
when the drops fall harder and faster on my bare skin.
I'm not alone, the others are too at the mercy of the rain,
but I think I am the only one that would rather not be here.


At times, the ground looks like freedom,
complete with bugs, grass, and dirt.
It's not right to wish to fall, I can't tell them
that I wait for the day when I'm on my own.
Here, we are a family, cared for by our trunk,
united by our branches, attached by our stems.


Here, we are fortunate; given food, water, security,
but I wonder what it's like to be on my own.
I want to blow freely in the wind, dancing
my way from limb to perch.
I want to meet the grass and the flowers,
and make friends with the earthworms.


I look forward to when it's my turn to fall;
to them, it's the end, but to me,
it's only the beginning.

Breaking

Remember the time when you gave it all of your might,

and it slipped through your fingers.

Remember the time when you gave it all of your heart,

and it tore you to pieces.

There was a time when you didn't let anyone in;

no one could hurt you from the outside.

There was a time when all you wanted was to be alone;

you had control that way.

Remember the time when your wall came crashing down,

because enough is enough.

Remember the time when you stopped trying

to keep people out.

Because when you have nothing else left to lose,

........0l.e..t..... g...o.....