"Chase the Rain."
I just had a little brain-supernova and this tiny idea was born. I love rain. I love the peace and life it brings. It loves and nurtures the earth, each drop bringing down love from the dark clouds above. I love the sounds and the glimmers of the earth as she drinks up the refreshing precipitation. I love rain. And then this little phrase simply popped into my head.
"Chase the Rain."
Rain makes me think of books and darkness and cool, refreshing life. It makes me think of green leaves bowing to the weight of each droplet. It inspires me.
"Chase the Rain."
I like it.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
"Deep Breaths"
My sincerest apologies for not posting in a while....my teachers think it's funny to give 6 hours of homework a night. Thanks, my lovely educators! Ack. So I've been writing a lot lately, and I recently entered my first ever writing contest...I'm actually very excited. All my friends are very good writers, and they entered, too, so I suppose I'll just have to wait and see what happens...even if I don't win, I'm very excited that I entered.
The word "quite" amuses me. Also, "pinafore." As well as 19th century literature. Maybe you couldn't tell, but I'm currently reading Jane Eyre for AP Literature. I happen to love it. I'm so happy that we're done with Crime & Punishment, but this weekend I have to write a paper answering "to what extent should man have the right to create his own morals?" That's some pretty heavy thinking...ideas in the comments, por favor! (that's spanish for "please," just in case some of you are crazy French-speaking people...like the French...or the Canadians....TEAM SPANISH!!! :D )
Here's my entry for the contest, it's called "Deep Breaths"...let me know what you think! Two more days till Friday, then the weekend! Hang in there!
P.S. The Script is my new favorite band...listen to them and LOVE them as much as I do. Oh, one more thing.... www.youtube.com/vlogbrothers. It'll change your life for the better. DFTBA :D
~
She walked along the bank of the stream, the cold soil sending refreshing chills up through her bare feet. The woods she grew up in played a song for her, the wind, water, and birds all serenading her as she passed. She took a deep breath, filling her body with the invigorating smell of life that could only come from a place like this. She thought, as she often did, about what the world was like in different places. All cities were the same, she knew that. They were hard and dirty, the smell of gasoline and heavy human exhaustion always lingering in the air. She liked being in the city, but only for brief periods of time. She was never able to understand how one could spend their entire life in a box. That was all the city was to her, a dull metal box, trapping her inside with confusing side streets and rushing businesspeople that never stopped to smell the roses that she loved so dearly.
Houses were different. The feel of your house often reflected your lifestyle -- a messy, funny-smelling house typically meant you had a messy, busy life. Some people, she had noticed, had exceptionally clean houses. Those houses smelled like air freshener and freshly-vacuumed carpet. This was always ironic to her, because the people that owned those houses were usually her father's business partners, and it seemed like the had the messiest lives of all.
The smell of the outdoors depended heavily on the season, which, she supposed, was a lot like people's appearances. In the springtime, her favorite time of year, everything was new and natural, and the beauty of it was in the fact that life had come after all the trials of winter. She always thought this to be like when a baby was born, young and new and healthy, and as they continued to grow and blossom like the soft pink flowers along the stream, they became stronger and even more beautiful.
Then, in the summer, it was hot, and everything smelled hot, and people worked hard to keep the outdoors beautiful, watering and weeding like madmen. To her, this had always been like a teenager wearing makeup and the coolest clothes to try to negate the amount of acne she had and the exponentially increasing level of awkward her body continued to reach.
In the fall, when nature started that reluctant journey towards winter, the changing colors of leaves reminded her of all the middle aged women that dyed their hair, desperately clinging to their summer when their leaves were a little greener and their tree trunks didn’t have so many rings. Earth smelled cool and fresh, but that sweet smell always came with the omnipresent knowledge that winter was coming soon.
Winter made her cry for Earth, tired and just barely alive, just as she cried for all those people who had reached the stage of their lives when they did the exact same thing everyday: coffee, work, home, children, dinner, bed, and again the next day. It was a terrible stage to be in, and she prayed everyday that she would never get there. She had always been surrounded by people in that stage, and she was determined not to join them.
But then spring came again, and it always made her realize that the original, honest, natural beauty found at birth was also found at the end of life, in those few, happy older people that you saw in the library or at the park. The ones that smiled at you like they were truly happy to see you and called you "Miss." The ones that held the door open for you and refused to give up on life simply because they were a few decades closer to death than most. She had always admired these people because they had gone through all their seasons and were still happy to be there for another one. They didn’t just stop and smell the roses, they picked the roses to give to people so they might smell them, too.
Suddenly, the sun dipped in the sky and the still half-naked trees around her no longer intercepted its orange glow. She squinted as the light flooded her surroundings and then, with a sigh, realized it was time to begin the short walk home. One last deep breath soothed her senses, and she turned and climbed back up the bank to return to the conglomeration of misshapen puzzle pieces that, when forced together, created the abstract painting of her family.
The word "quite" amuses me. Also, "pinafore." As well as 19th century literature. Maybe you couldn't tell, but I'm currently reading Jane Eyre for AP Literature. I happen to love it. I'm so happy that we're done with Crime & Punishment, but this weekend I have to write a paper answering "to what extent should man have the right to create his own morals?" That's some pretty heavy thinking...ideas in the comments, por favor! (that's spanish for "please," just in case some of you are crazy French-speaking people...like the French...or the Canadians....TEAM SPANISH!!! :D )
Here's my entry for the contest, it's called "Deep Breaths"...let me know what you think! Two more days till Friday, then the weekend! Hang in there!
P.S. The Script is my new favorite band...listen to them and LOVE them as much as I do. Oh, one more thing.... www.youtube.com/vlogbrothers. It'll change your life for the better. DFTBA :D
~
She walked along the bank of the stream, the cold soil sending refreshing chills up through her bare feet. The woods she grew up in played a song for her, the wind, water, and birds all serenading her as she passed. She took a deep breath, filling her body with the invigorating smell of life that could only come from a place like this. She thought, as she often did, about what the world was like in different places. All cities were the same, she knew that. They were hard and dirty, the smell of gasoline and heavy human exhaustion always lingering in the air. She liked being in the city, but only for brief periods of time. She was never able to understand how one could spend their entire life in a box. That was all the city was to her, a dull metal box, trapping her inside with confusing side streets and rushing businesspeople that never stopped to smell the roses that she loved so dearly.
Houses were different. The feel of your house often reflected your lifestyle -- a messy, funny-smelling house typically meant you had a messy, busy life. Some people, she had noticed, had exceptionally clean houses. Those houses smelled like air freshener and freshly-vacuumed carpet. This was always ironic to her, because the people that owned those houses were usually her father's business partners, and it seemed like the had the messiest lives of all.
The smell of the outdoors depended heavily on the season, which, she supposed, was a lot like people's appearances. In the springtime, her favorite time of year, everything was new and natural, and the beauty of it was in the fact that life had come after all the trials of winter. She always thought this to be like when a baby was born, young and new and healthy, and as they continued to grow and blossom like the soft pink flowers along the stream, they became stronger and even more beautiful.
Then, in the summer, it was hot, and everything smelled hot, and people worked hard to keep the outdoors beautiful, watering and weeding like madmen. To her, this had always been like a teenager wearing makeup and the coolest clothes to try to negate the amount of acne she had and the exponentially increasing level of awkward her body continued to reach.
In the fall, when nature started that reluctant journey towards winter, the changing colors of leaves reminded her of all the middle aged women that dyed their hair, desperately clinging to their summer when their leaves were a little greener and their tree trunks didn’t have so many rings. Earth smelled cool and fresh, but that sweet smell always came with the omnipresent knowledge that winter was coming soon.
Winter made her cry for Earth, tired and just barely alive, just as she cried for all those people who had reached the stage of their lives when they did the exact same thing everyday: coffee, work, home, children, dinner, bed, and again the next day. It was a terrible stage to be in, and she prayed everyday that she would never get there. She had always been surrounded by people in that stage, and she was determined not to join them.
But then spring came again, and it always made her realize that the original, honest, natural beauty found at birth was also found at the end of life, in those few, happy older people that you saw in the library or at the park. The ones that smiled at you like they were truly happy to see you and called you "Miss." The ones that held the door open for you and refused to give up on life simply because they were a few decades closer to death than most. She had always admired these people because they had gone through all their seasons and were still happy to be there for another one. They didn’t just stop and smell the roses, they picked the roses to give to people so they might smell them, too.
Suddenly, the sun dipped in the sky and the still half-naked trees around her no longer intercepted its orange glow. She squinted as the light flooded her surroundings and then, with a sigh, realized it was time to begin the short walk home. One last deep breath soothed her senses, and she turned and climbed back up the bank to return to the conglomeration of misshapen puzzle pieces that, when forced together, created the abstract painting of her family.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Thoughts From Crime & Punishment
I just finished my last journal for the book we had to read in AP Literature, Crime & Punishment....I don't know if I've ever been happier in my life. I really didn't enjoy that book. For this last journal entry, we had to write about the themes in the book. Here is a section of what I was thinking about this week. I finally got it down on paper :)
~
Whether or not the ends justify the means has been a concept wrestled with for centuries. Raskolnikov [the main character in the book, he commits two murders and struggles with psychological punishment] believes wholeheartedly in this concept, as he believes that by killing Alyona Ivanovna he will be able to spread her wealth and will remove a stain from his society. This seems to make logical sense, but then he must kill Lizaveta Ivanovna, and this adds great severity to the situation. Now, he has killed an innocent woman and he must pay the consequences. This brings into question the ability of man to kill. At what point will we revert to our basic, animalistic instincts? I believe that when in a situation that forces us to act in a split second and quickly decide between saving ourselves or saving someone else, we will choose our selves. Not necessarily always, or for everyone, is this true, but this is always in our minds. We are truly animals and therefore our instinct will always be to protect ourselves and those we love. To become civilized is to learn to act outside these instincts. Being cultured, being religious, being intelligent, all these things give us a reason to act outside instinct. Creating a civilization and a society in which we live for more that just survival has given us a way to develop into more than just animals. However, this concept of civilization brings into consideration another aspect of the human mind, the need for advancement, but as Fyodor Dostoevsky said, "That might be the subject of a new story, but our present story is ended."
~
Just some light thinking ;)
~
Whether or not the ends justify the means has been a concept wrestled with for centuries. Raskolnikov [the main character in the book, he commits two murders and struggles with psychological punishment] believes wholeheartedly in this concept, as he believes that by killing Alyona Ivanovna he will be able to spread her wealth and will remove a stain from his society. This seems to make logical sense, but then he must kill Lizaveta Ivanovna, and this adds great severity to the situation. Now, he has killed an innocent woman and he must pay the consequences. This brings into question the ability of man to kill. At what point will we revert to our basic, animalistic instincts? I believe that when in a situation that forces us to act in a split second and quickly decide between saving ourselves or saving someone else, we will choose our selves. Not necessarily always, or for everyone, is this true, but this is always in our minds. We are truly animals and therefore our instinct will always be to protect ourselves and those we love. To become civilized is to learn to act outside these instincts. Being cultured, being religious, being intelligent, all these things give us a reason to act outside instinct. Creating a civilization and a society in which we live for more that just survival has given us a way to develop into more than just animals. However, this concept of civilization brings into consideration another aspect of the human mind, the need for advancement, but as Fyodor Dostoevsky said, "That might be the subject of a new story, but our present story is ended."
~
Just some light thinking ;)
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Finding Ourselves (Not as cheesy as the title sounds, I promise)
Today in my European History class we talked about the pessimism after World War Two. We were discussing psychology and discoveries and things and it got me thinking....how much do we really know ourselves if we are so constantly bombarded with propaganda and always told how to think? From the day we are born, morals are instilled in us. We are taught that stealing is wrong, sharing is good, and "nice" means treating others with respect. Doing otherwise is considered "wrong." What really is wrong, though? Morals are subjective. Morals come with religion. The world's morals are similar to most religions out there. If religion = morals, then what is really right and wrong? I'm a Christian, so I believe in Jesus and his teachings, but when considering these things I like to strip away any bias I have and only look at fact. If there were no religion, if there were no propaganda, if there were nothing to influence us in any way, what would we be like? If we had never developed the modern sense of right and wrong, where would we be? And how can we truly discover ourselves if we are constantly subjected to others opinions? We also talked about mass psychology, the psychology of a crowd. All of humanity is a crowd. Adolf Hitler showed us that under the right manipulation, humans are capable of doing unspeakable things. Even from half a world away, Americans didn't step in to do anything. The whole WORLD stood by and walked 6+ million people just like them die cruel deaths because of what they believe or what race they are. Now, today we think "well, I would never do that. If I had been there, I would have stopped it. I would have done something." You cannot truthfully say that, though. The German race is not to blame. One man did that. But I digress. My real question is, how do we know who we are and what we like if people are always telling us what to think? If we hear another person's opinion enough, we start to believe it ourselves.
Pizza tastes gross.
Pizza tastes gross.
Pizza tastes gross.
Pizza tastes gross.
Pizza tastes gross.
Pizza tastes gross.
Pizza tastes gross.
If I said this enough times, you would begin to have a lower opinion of pizza, no matter how much you like it. Same goes with rumors, the more times you hear something, the more you believe it. The truth is, we really don't know ourselves very well. How can we? We are a reflection of the time we live in and the culture we are exposed to. So now we must ask....how does culture come about?
Pizza tastes gross.
Pizza tastes gross.
Pizza tastes gross.
Pizza tastes gross.
Pizza tastes gross.
Pizza tastes gross.
Pizza tastes gross.
If I said this enough times, you would begin to have a lower opinion of pizza, no matter how much you like it. Same goes with rumors, the more times you hear something, the more you believe it. The truth is, we really don't know ourselves very well. How can we? We are a reflection of the time we live in and the culture we are exposed to. So now we must ask....how does culture come about?
Monday, January 31, 2011
Old Entry....
I had auditions for the Wizard of Oz today, and I went out for Dorothy. I have always wanted to be Dorothy, ever since I was a little girl, so I decided this was my chance. I am not a fantastic singer, I would say about mediocre, but I just went for it. I'm proud of myself for not backing down, and even if I don't get the part, I'm glad that I tried.
Here's an entry I found in a journal from this past summer. This was one that I wrote at night when I couldn't fall asleep...I think that things with lots of imagery are very effective at helping you fall asleep. So anyway....here it is. If you read this, please just do me a favor and comment...I would love to know if anyone is reading these...I'll keep posting if no one is reading, but if anyone is....it would greatly increase my level of happy today. So here it is:
~
The waves overtake her, crashing down on her head, sucking her under. She tries to scream but instead she takes in the salty water that fills her ears like cotton and dulls the sounds around her. The necessary breath for survival will not come to her now; she cannot be saved. She feels like she is on fire despite the icy cold water rushing all around her. She cries out, her voice choking and bubbling under the water as she gives up her only hope. The panic rises in her chest until it is all that she can feel. Her heart beats with it, her veins pulse with its rush of emotion. She wishes she could take one more breath of the clear, sharp air before she dies. She slowly opens her eyes and is greeted with a smear of blue and green. She looks up and sees the sky. A dark shadow of a seagull passes over her head, making a cookie-cutter shape out of the sun. He flies away and suddenly she wishes she could fly too. She could fly out of the water and away from this cold nightmare. Away into the clear blue sky, flying with a soaring heart...she is flying, even with the clouds, touching the sun...and everything is black.
Here's an entry I found in a journal from this past summer. This was one that I wrote at night when I couldn't fall asleep...I think that things with lots of imagery are very effective at helping you fall asleep. So anyway....here it is. If you read this, please just do me a favor and comment...I would love to know if anyone is reading these...I'll keep posting if no one is reading, but if anyone is....it would greatly increase my level of happy today. So here it is:
~
The waves overtake her, crashing down on her head, sucking her under. She tries to scream but instead she takes in the salty water that fills her ears like cotton and dulls the sounds around her. The necessary breath for survival will not come to her now; she cannot be saved. She feels like she is on fire despite the icy cold water rushing all around her. She cries out, her voice choking and bubbling under the water as she gives up her only hope. The panic rises in her chest until it is all that she can feel. Her heart beats with it, her veins pulse with its rush of emotion. She wishes she could take one more breath of the clear, sharp air before she dies. She slowly opens her eyes and is greeted with a smear of blue and green. She looks up and sees the sky. A dark shadow of a seagull passes over her head, making a cookie-cutter shape out of the sun. He flies away and suddenly she wishes she could fly too. She could fly out of the water and away from this cold nightmare. Away into the clear blue sky, flying with a soaring heart...she is flying, even with the clouds, touching the sun...and everything is black.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
"What Death Must Be Like"
Heartbreak = new poetry.
~
Tears fall and echo in my ear
Hard drops falling from a sea of blue
Chills run up and down my spine
Surely this is what death must be like
Betrayal and secrets fly like arrows
Each shot taken with perfect aim
To tear endless holes in my heart
And all I want is to go blank
Hear, see, feel no more
But your voice echoes in my dreams
Your eyes hidden in my sight
All I feel is a cold fire
Sinking my heart and filling my stomach with pain.
~
Tears fall and echo in my ear
Hard drops falling from a sea of blue
Chills run up and down my spine
Surely this is what death must be like
Betrayal and secrets fly like arrows
Each shot taken with perfect aim
To tear endless holes in my heart
And all I want is to go blank
Hear, see, feel no more
But your voice echoes in my dreams
Your eyes hidden in my sight
All I feel is a cold fire
Sinking my heart and filling my stomach with pain.
Monday, January 24, 2011
"A Simple Love Poem"
Very simple, not a lot of imagery, but hopefully the contrast of the adjectives gets my point across :) Hope everyone had a great Monday!
~
Love
is defined as
passion
lust
fun
always
perfect
Love
is
difficult
easy
happy
sad
crazy
unexplainable
unexpected
planned
desire
pure
muddy
near
far
comfortable
scary
new
old
timeless
never
always
perfect
~
Love
is defined as
passion
lust
fun
always
perfect
Love
is
difficult
easy
happy
sad
crazy
unexplainable
unexpected
planned
desire
pure
muddy
near
far
comfortable
scary
new
old
timeless
never
always
perfect
Sunday, January 23, 2011
I miss green...
Feeling a lot of change...and also feeling very happy about it...it's not that scary, I feel out of control" change, it's that "okay, I'm ready, I can do this and I'm excited" change. I'm also longing for some kind of green. I hate winter. So here is a poem that I was inspired to write about life and nature and things that aren't buried in snow...
~
Daffodils swaying in the breeze
Birds singing in the trees
Oh, what I would give to be
A whistling wind
Flying cross the seas
All the world expels its woe
Flowers blooming as they grow
If only the world turned half as slow
And everyone's story
You could get to know
Life flies by like waves from a shore
Blue and white and so much more
But if there ever was one cure
There would never be anything
To live life for
~
Daffodils swaying in the breeze
Birds singing in the trees
Oh, what I would give to be
A whistling wind
Flying cross the seas
All the world expels its woe
Flowers blooming as they grow
If only the world turned half as slow
And everyone's story
You could get to know
Life flies by like waves from a shore
Blue and white and so much more
But if there ever was one cure
There would never be anything
To live life for
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