My only one true worry about this semester is that I'm still incredibly, intensely, and undyingly in love with you.

And you add breath to all of the regret,
of how I miss you
I miss you
I miss you

They are -

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xTfFyp2KBxE

The above is a link to a song performed by Lunasa, called 'The Miller of Drohan'. I'm not sure of the history of the song, but I don't think it is incredibly old, perhaps one could even say its a modern tune.

Its one of my favorite songs right now. Just hearing it brings my ancestors to life in my chest.

I love who I have come from, even though throughout history many mistakes have been made. I love that my blood can be traced to Ireland, Parts of Scandinavia, and even Spain.

I love that who I am is in part made up in part of the decisions, actions, and risks taken by those who came before me. But with this I also know that some of those decisions and actions were at the expense of someone else, and even perhaps fueled by hatred.





As I go through life knowing that I am one stepping stone in the line of my family, I bear the tremendous knowledge that my actions are the variables of life to come. It is a most humbling experience.

I am the first man to walk upright, I am the first man to harness fire, I am Vikings, I am Celts, I am Spaniards, I am 'Americans', I am my parents, I am me.

Hurricane

One thought,
and its a bit less infinite than I had assumed.

Inception,
an easier task than DiCaprio let on.

In any case,
I had a wonderful evening.

But I walked into the conversation late,
and overheard what I knew, of course.

I hope he knows how amazing you are,
if I knew what was being said.
you deserve more than anyone could give

But I am arms crossed
in a corner
quiet

And I though I could catch a hurricane
I am not brave enough to truly
speak
to you.

In any case,
It was a wonderful evening -

goodnight.

You've gotta roll with the punches, brother.

You've gotta be willing for things to go as they will, how they will.

So mournful? You can't see much with your head down, remember that. Today is a beautiful day, and tomorrow will be another. It is a hard line, allowing yourself to lay back in the river flow of life and yet still make the choices you think are correct. But then, why not? The actions of others can be a reference book - if it makes you sick, don't do it. If you don't like an action someone takes, don't take that action. It is all very simple actually. There is no way to happiness, happiness is the way. There is no way to love, love is the way. There is no way to peace, peace is the way.

Do, or do not. There is no try.


Be yourself, while not an asshole about it, and beautiful people will find you.
Be yourself, while not selfish about it, and what's ugly will show true elegance.
Be honest, but not unkind, and people will appreciate your words.

Today has been a good day.

Long hours, new semester

So tomorrow is the third of the 10 hour days.

Honestly, I'm loving them.

Granted if I had done them all summer then I would definitely be burnt out. But, this one week has been a lot of fun. Honestly, its just good to be working again. I don't have a special love for painting, but I do like just being active. I've grown a lot.

Also I've realized these past two days that my flagstaff friends are really amazing. Now, I don't belittle my Phoenix friends at all. Whenever I visit the valley I'm so excited to see my buddies back home. They mean a lot to me.

And My flagfriends also mean a lot. I mean, I had no idea they liked me so much until they all started jumping up and down when they saw me. It makes me feel really good about myself, and really honored that people simply like being around me. But, It also makes me feel a bit of fear, that I might lose that. I should tell them that I also think they are great, but I'm not very good with saying that sort of thing. I should get past that; I don't want them to think that I don't appreciate their friendships.

I have high hopes for this year. I feel that it will be stressful and hard, but also that things are beginning to look up. And, of course....


I have a shiny new ticket to see Jonsi in concert this October.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k7X7sZzSXYs&feature=player_embedded#!

Frustration

Gah.

Frustration.

No matter how long I see, It isn't enough. there are so many barriers, I should just give up. But I can't seem to; I know why, of course. Though it isn't rational, in fact one could say nonsensical.

It isn't as though I try very hard anyways,
but when I'm just standing silently I'm in fact deperately trying to sew all my thoughts into one coherant quilt -


I can write out anything,
I just can't seem to speak, or mae anything I write worthwhile.

In truth, the poetry is a crutch. An excuse to say what I want, but to have it just cryptic enough that nobody knows what the hell I'm talking about.

Ink blots on dirty blue rags? Ancient relics? Cracks in windows and ghosts in mirrors?

Mark, that is not an avenue towards good communication.

I simply fear that I will just continue to stand in silence...boring, grey, and neutral. I know that I'm not these things, I have so much to say and to share and to laugh about and to show..but when I try to speak, it turns into dead end stories and stuttering nonsense that causes odd looks of confusion and chuckles of dismissal,

Who wants to be an old man,
filled with regret,
when they are only 22?

But then, my life is an advertisement.

But anyways,
enough of this.

Nothing will change until I am able to find joy in myself, happiness in myself, and fulfillment in the world around me.
Not until I can be perfectly happy will anything make a turn for the better.

Haha, I'm like an old and tired bush trying to make its way through asphalt



I guess it simply boils down to this.
This is just my way of seeing things, right or wrong I don't know.

All of the joy in the day,
all of the beautiful things I have seen,
all of the beautiful people I have met,
all of the happiness that I have felt..
If at the end of the day there is nobody to share it with,
then so what?
It just becomes forgotten as dust on the countertops
and thoughts on a keyboard.

Dancing

I absolutely hate dancing.

I don't mean Ballet, or modern dancing, or belly dancing, or tap or swing; these are some of my favorite forms of artistic expression, though I am an observer and not a practitioner. I mean the strange, half drunken gyrations involved in what I refer to as "club dancing".

Do I think its wrong? No, right and wrong don't have much of a place in opinion. Do I think its stupid? Well, who am I to say. But I can say that I certainly feel stupid on the few occasions that I have done it. Standing, I never know where to put my arms. Guys say "on the girl! Just go for it!", yet girls often come back and report "eew, he had his hands all over me!"

There is an obvious lack of communication. Although, I can freely admit that I am NOT a good "Club" dancer.

Second is, of all the times I was expected to "club dance", no experience was a good one. I'll share two stories with you, but there are some that I keep to myself for...well....good reason.

The first involved my prior girlfriend. I took her to a school event that was, in essence, a dance. But no, not like swing dancing or anything like that. I at least know how to swing dance a little bit. This dancing involved the loud thumping bass I dreaded. She bought a beautiful dress, the event was a formal one and she looked gorgeous. Anyways, I went out with her to the dance floor and immediately things went south. My throat closed up, my legs turned to jelly, my head started to spin. Needless to say her beautiful dress was a waste, and I got the blue ribbon for "worst boyfriend ever".

The second involved a situation I hated from the start.

Two girls a friend of mine and I met were coming into town, and wanted to hang out. the moment we met up with them I sort of got a feel for them and decided that they weren't the type of girls I was interested in hanging out with. But regardless we went out to eat, walked around downtown, and had a nice time. Then, a man downtown asked if he could dance with her to the music of a street musician. But he asked me. My thinking was as follows, although I didn't say this out loud.

"The fuck are you asking me for? I'm obviously not involved with this girl and if she wants to dance with you, shouldn't that be up to her?"

Apparently my thinking that she could decide who to dance with didn't go over so well. The rest of the night was utterly miserable. You see, I didn't view the event as a double date, which is apparently what it was. Hell, nobody told me that. If I had known that I would have acted differently. I just saw it as a few friends from out of town coming to visit. Ok, maybe I should have taken a hint but when a girl goes the whole evening without looking at you, speaking to you, and constantly texting every one of her friends, you don't think she is interested.

Anyways. later that night another opportunity to dance presented itself. I didn't like this girl. She was annoying, pompous, and full of herself. Not to mention completely unreasonable. But hell, I didn't want her to have a horrible time, and I felt bad that she was bored so I offered to make it up to her in hopes that the evening wouldn't be a complete waste for her. She replied,
"No, you can dance by yourself."

I spent the rest of the evening on the porch, cursing women and wishing I was dead.



I absolutely hate dancing.


.

A new poem

On a special polished shelf
with all the things I've make-believed, reads
The only spell I know;
a word of love
Thrown down my alleyway,
And the homeless man lifting eyelids
To see His gray scale concrete home
Put all the royal gardens to
the humblest of shame.
These clapping hands,
The yeast
The unbaked bread -
like standing to close to paintings
or watching people from afar,
how can anyone see clearly when its all
tacked up inkblots on a dirty blue cloth. . .
and I grow too quickly into a bitter old man,
failing miserably in paper skin
to make right these quiet regrets.
But even your voice,
oh torrential storm,
carries the softest drop of rain.

gckhlj;k

blegh,


Don't be that guy.

-

All words fall short of action,
all ink just empty promises -
to speak again,
without pause...

the wind runs hands through her hair,
trees bend -

We know nothing of silence.

Night sky

I can liken almost anything to the stars, the sky, the beauty in something as simple as the wind. But with you, all words are torn from my chest, and I forget how to speak. I simply shy away, because I know everything I have to say is dull and uninteresting in comparison.

I am one water in a vast many, and expect no special glance or word,
but when we stop on the street
and appreciate the night sky,
I only notice how it is far less beautiful
than you.



goodnight.

-0987

My eyes are the canvas,
Who is the artist?
Not that they are works of art,
but that my perception is shaped
by someone
who is not me.

getting punched in the side of the head by heavy bass, screaming sports announcers, thievery, a generous dose of pressure, and everyone has their agenda on a stained napkin in their back pocket that is wrapped around some small, quick dissolving pill.

So be it,
I certainly know how to draw a grim picture.
I should look into painting cathedrals.

an odd display

Everything I do is to puff up my feathers, to make my colors more shiny. Without even realizing it, I keep gathering all of the prettiest twigs and flowers in the forest in order to make a beautiful display. Despite what I may think, my only concentration is the sharpness of my beak and the curve of my claws.

And upon realizing this, I find myself extremely disappointed in how ordinary the ritual is.

But either I ruffle up my wings and try to look impressive, or I find a nice shell and live in a tide pool.


Who thought of such a horrible system?



I was on a walk today, about an hour ago actually. I went under the bridge that goes over milton, just as it becomes Route 66, and I saw this big, nasty slop of mud on the ground. I quickly dodged around it, but then stopped. look at all the tracks left by worms and slugs in the mud, and the big, defined dog prints. The bike tire tells me that maybe someone was riding along with their dog, maybe not. The light shows on the ridges and waves left in the mud, the whole thing speaks purely for itself.

Suddenly, the mud wasn't so ugly anymore.

Some things I like

I took this idea from a friend of mine, so I claim no originality.

Some Things I like

Beautiful hair






Strange instruments






Rain







Fog





Good bread





Birds



Flowers growing out of the road and the sidewalk

-

I am a loaf of unbaked bread
I am an untouched bookmark.
I am the crack in my front window,
and the jewels that walk those lines.
I am a window left open,
and the laughing, war-cry sky.
Tired chest and
sore eyes -
I am alive
I am alive

I'm a creepy stalker,
a window peeker,
a peeping tom,
a glance thief,
quite honestly.

Yield

Stop!

You are not anchored, and their changes are not linked to your own. But when I see others move I feel as though they are getting farther away.

So much of this was given strength in that there were others like me,
but now they're leaving.

But the world adapts.

I'll know this weekend,
but it shouldn't matter.

I just wish I could be happy in myself because I am myself,
and not because others say that it must or must not be so.

one step at a time.

I still think about that dialogue,

some things should be locked away, and never brought out.

Here where the mist sits low



I'm saying nothing.

People are -

People are {ignorant}
People are {selfish}
People can be so {hateful}

oh dear.....

I am {people}

My Chest Ached

My Chest Ached. I wanted to explode out of my skin. I wanted to become air, to fall into water and see each particle of earth that stared me in the face. I wanted to be one rhythm, one force, and in becoming this, to lose the imaginary boundary known as my body, the flesh.I was a golden orb, a passive light life-force, the ghost of lovers in your rear view mirror, in the glass of a window. I was every eye, every voice. I was water pouring out over flat sandstone, hovering in the tremor of what is as small as a hummingbird's wing, and as vast as the solar winds.

WHAAAAAAAT?!?!

Why on earth is everybody I went to high school / church with getting married!?

Why has everybody found their soul mate so quickly?

Haha, maybe what they say about Adventist college is true :)

Precipice

Ah. Barriers. Ganapataye.

Perhaps I can walk over them, overcome them, dominate them with a triumphant war cry...

or maybe I could stand back,
appreciate the barrier and its beauty,
and see that there is a small wooded path running peacefully around it.

I'll take that option.
"Be like water"

This move, in eleven days, puts me at the edge of a precipice.

I will be on my own, in the most complete sense of the word. Before others, yet after many. I feel sad sometimes, a large portion of my life involves losing old groups of friends and gaining others. I don't talk to anybody from my graduating class, save Mitzi. All the others still talk to each other.

Is it because I changed my religion?
Or maybe its on my end, that I was the one who didn't keep contact.
In any case.

Its exciting too, this new life I will be building for myself. Living in my own apartment, meeting new people, finishing up college. What will this year bring?

Hopefully someone else to cook dinner with, even if just once in a while.

Perhaps there is a small path down this cliff I'm standing at,
and It's probably staring right at me.

I'll miss drinking coffee in the morning with my dad,
enjoying the fleeting 'good' weather,
and watching the hummingbirds with him.

I see god in those moments

light glints off feathers,
I sit still to keep her there -
Humming bird, old friend.

that is all :)