HaPpY pLaCe

This is for the girls and boys that sit in the lonely corners at lunch, this is for the math teachers (need i expand), this is for the dreamers who live among the clouds, this is for the people who check their watches too much
Find your happy place
this is for the mischief making two year olds, this is for the mothers of mischief making two year olds, this is for the elderly who, like two year olds have applesauce being spooned in their mouth by some overly happy looking woman... please find your happy place
This is for the cowboy boot wearing boys, the wallflower in gym class, this is for the newborns with patches of heaven in their sparkling eyes, this is for the people with red hair... the people with no hair,
find your happy place

This is for the girls who cant see past themselves in high school, the girls who are looked right past, this is for the people with the bandaged hearts and tattered souls,
find your happy place
this is for the big brothers who protect their little sisters, this is for the bullied and broken, the bruised and the scarred, this is for the boys in the polos, this is for the drama queens,  this is for the friendless,
find your happy place
this is for the two year olds that cannot be understood because the speak half english half god,  this is for the unforgiven, for the ones with bottled up unreached potential,
find your happy place
this is for the kids who no longer know where home is, this is for the fathers who cry after their families are sleeping because they know they cannot support them all alone,
find your happy place
just look, we all have a place or a thought to take us away from ourselves, where we can slip from our skin if but for just a small moment.

Gandhi_ I am in love with a boy manufactured to destroy so i shall unravel my love just like a red woolen glove.

Whisper
click
tap.. tap.. tap..
 I keep forgetting I am sitting in class while the other students live their lives around me.
I pick at my red woolen scarf as it unravels a bit... funny thats how my life feels.

I forget how you can go so long floating on clouds made up of fluffy stuff they call hopes and dreams... and love.  Then the next thing you remember you're on the ground twenty stories down and your looking up at the sky as others keep on floating by, not bothering to say hi just wave bye.

I forget how easy it is to slip underneath their toes nobody cares where is it I go.  Before anyone can stop it your treading water looking at your own reflection gazing back, not recognizing the sneering face.  I forget to put on my smile so I dont let them catch on that anything is wrong.

I wish they would have caught on already... to forget about me and let me fade away in peace.  If  I was stronger I would put forth the effort to not forget, to not forget to love to not forget to take away my own ambitions.

Without ambitions and hope, why even have heart and a brain.  why not cut them out and lay them on the operating table so at least there is now a reason for the numb blankness in your eyes.

What if I dont measure up, What if I forget how to be me.  What if I lose myself sometimes, and forget how to find myself.  What if thats all it takes just that once and I've lost myself completely.  Is that possible?  Are we ever ourselves completely anyways?

 Maybe if I lost myself I would find myself.

I cant take a chance.  Is forgetting really worth the pain it causes later?

So now I will get up from the chalk outline I have drawn for myself, open my eyes, take a deep breath and

Remember.

She's The Man Film Analysis

Ordinary world:  Viola Hastings plays soccer at her high school until one day her team gets cut.  she lives with her overbearing mother and rebelous songwriting twin brother Sebastian.
Call: Sebastian ditches to a battle of the bands for a couple weeks in London, Viola decides to take charge and prove that girls can play soccer just as good as guys.  She disguises herself as her twin brother Sebastian, and goes out for the rival school, Illyria, boys' soccer team and makes it.
Refusal: Viola has doubts about her abilities as a soccer player and does not know if her disguise will be put to the test.
Mentor: Duke, Violas/ Sebastians' roommate who she finds herself falling for, teaches her how to be good enough to play first string by their first big game against her old schools team.  He befriends her and shows her the ropes.
Threshold: Viola crosses the threshold when she is being disguised as a boy and then when she first enters the boys dorm and sees what life is like on the other side.

Tests, Allies and Enemies: Viola makes herself "cool" by setting up a scene with several of her girl friends and therefore is excepted by the soccer team.  She is trying to get away from her ex-boyfriend on the opposing soccer team and keep up appearances while dodging Sebatians psycho girlfriend who thinks Viola is Sebastian.  
Approach: Viola is training especially hard and has made it to first string.  Duke fights Justin (Violas Ex) and initially puts him in line.  Viola agrees to set Duke up with Olivia a girl he has a crush on, and also to become a debutante like her mother wants her to be.
Ordeal: Viola finds out that Olivia has a crush on her Sebastian self,  she has to try and nicely tell her no and at the same time not hurt Dukes feelings.  Duke sees Olivia kissing the real Sebastian because he has arrived at school earlier then expected.  Duke is upset and kick Viola out forcing her to find a place to stay and waking up late for the big game the next day. Now that the real Sebastian is back people quickly realize something is off and the twins have to prove that it was all just a big ruse and explain the whole truth.
Reward: Viola gets put in the game and they beat the other team, thus proving that girls can play in the same league as guys.
The Road Back: Viola still has feelings for duke but he is still upset that he was lied to and used.  She tries to go after him after the game but he avoids her.  She now does not have an escort the the debutante ball and she must go by herself.
Death: She sent a invitation to Duke but he has not responded, she tries to cope with the fact that he does not want to associate with her and she has to go to the ball without a date.
Resurrection: At the last minute Duke shows up and they reconcile.  He escorts her and she is happy because he came around.
Return with Elixir: Viola now plays on the boys team at Illyria as herself.  her and duke can now be together with no secrets.  Olivia proved what she set out to prove and found love on the way.

A good book has no ending.

Her name was Charlese,  she went by Charlie.

That was probably the most daring decision she had ever made, to defy her overbearing mother and go by something drastically less suitable.

She worked as a librarian.  Its not that she wasnt a people person she just didnt care enough to try.  So she replaced people with books, books were rarely wrong and alot more reliable. Plus they never ran out of stuff to talk about, and better yet they did all the talking and didnt expect anything back.

Charlie had only ever been on one date in high-school and it had ended in one torn dress and a garbage can full of tissues.  Sure she had been asked on a hundred more since then but she had gotten rather good at saying the word no.

She wouldnt mind settling down... someday... but she was content to live her life how it was at that moment.
Her days went more or less the same with the exception of a few minor fluctuations
 7: 13 - wake up
 8: 10 - open the library
 8:15- 7:00 - help helpless people find books about subjects they cant even pronounce because this is the only time they have even bothered to walk into a library.
7:30- 10:00- read in one of her recently loaned books about someone elses life, all those perfect adventurous, loved characters.  people she wasnt.  She was content to see through the eyes of these characters.  she told herself that this would have to do until she had adventures of her own someday.
10:00- Go to bed.

This was how her life went until one day everything changed at around 6:48 that evening.

Charlie was getting ready to close up the library so she could make get home and dive into a new book she had gotten when she heard a deep clearing of a throat.  She slowly looked up to help what she suspected was another lost soul in a sea of books and was surprised at what she saw.

He was not her regular customer.  She knew he was different somehow.  And with that one look she knew her whole gosh dang schedule would be totally thrown off kilter... and she didnt care.

questions:
1. who is this mystery man?
2. where is charlies family, why is she alone?
3. how is this man going to change her life?

BlUrBs

Death Cab For Cutie: Follow You Into The Dark
     James and Emmaline have been together for as long as they can remember.  They have traveled the world together and done everything that they ever dreamed.   But they are getting older and Emmaline has been fighting cancer and James knows they don't have much time.  He tells her that its okay to let go, their love will last through heaven and hell, they will always be together.

Taylor Swift: Enchanted
     Charlene feels as though her life is all fake smiles and feelings.  She wants to give up, but one night at a high school party she meets a charming boy.  They talk and for the first time in her life Charlene feels like someone cares.  She is in a daze because from this moment on she knows her life will be different.  Their relationship is evolving into something new.  She has found someone who just maybe can love her for her.

Dixie Chicks: Travilin' Soldier
     18 year old Johnathan is about to be shipped to Vietnam, he has no loved ones to come back to.  Lonesome and looking for a friend or just someone to talk to, he stumbles upon 17 year old Karoline in the cafe where she works.  He only has a few hours before he ships out but they have an instant undeniable connection.  Karoline promises not only to write Jonathan but to wait for him.  Jonathan leaves in good spirits knowing there is a reason to fight.  Her family tries to convince her that she is too young and that he probably wont come back to her.  She doesn't loose hope, that is until one fall night when Karoline learns of a tragic happening and her whole world falls down around her.

I run through the rain as tears drizzle down my red cheeks.  The rain mingles with my tears and I cant see anything anymore, I dont care, I dont even know where I am running to.

Or why I am running for that matter.

She yelled... I yelled back.  We both said things we meant and things just because we knew they would draw even a little drop of redish colored hope from the others veins...

I am filled with confusion, guilt, despair, sadness and heartbreak.  I was under the impression that friendship was supposed to be fun and easy

Its pathetic really, whats the reason? I dont even think the birds that heard the arguing, and took to the skies, know what the fight was about.

I need time, maybe after the leaves change color, or maybe after they f          
                                                                                                           a
                                                                                                           l l
Then we can talk.  Time can make or break anything.  I need time to see if the small fisure you created will crack all the way down my heart or if it can somehow mend.

I think I have had enough time... ironic how the person that hurt you so bad is the only one that can pick up the pieces of you and dump all that redish hope back into you, and pat you on the back
and your okay because try as you might,
                                             neither of you ever really stopped caring.

Key:
Plot                          
Character
Setting                                                     
Theme
Conflict

Lost In Paris

FOUR days after I arrived in Paris, I bought an umbrella. It had been raining on and off the entire time, and during my daily walks I’d been carrying a lightweight waterproof shell — bright green — which at the first sign of precipitation I’d unroll from its bundle and zip up, often removing it just minutes later, when the skies temporarily cleared. This was silly, I kept telling myself. There had to be a better way.

Still, I never set out specifically to buy the umbrella. It was only when, one Monday morning, I had decided to stroll the streets of St.-Germain-des-Prés, the tony Left Bank neighborhood, that the urge struck me. It happened, appropriately enough, in front of an umbrella store on the Boulevard St.-Germain.

This was no mere umbrella store. This was Alexandra Sojfer, and its windows were dazzling displays of parasols, frilly and bright and elaborate and not exactly my style — but umbrellas nonetheless. Inside, I asked about the wares, and the shopkeeper, a refreshingly friendly blond woman, who I later realized was Ms. Sojfer herself, explained that the company had been in the umbrella business since 1834 and that yes, they did carry more masculine, utilitarian rain gear. She showed me two models, a long one and a short one, both with fine carved-wood handles.

“But you know,” I said, “I come from New York, where the wind is strong and the streets are littered with the skeletons of dead umbrellas.”

Not to worry, she said. If any of the metal struts were damaged, I could simply return it to the shop to be fixed.

“O.K.,” I said, hefting a short, gray one, “I’ll take it.”

A version of this article appeared in print on October 9, 2011, on page TR1 of the New York edition with the headline: Lost in Paris




In a shell... Frilly and bright, that is what they saw me as.
everyday I become a little more waterproof, I keep telling myself
it is O.K.
If I bundle up whats inside I can find a temporary fix to the damage
I am strong enough to clear the skeletons away at least temporarily

but the wind is too strong, I am damaged everything has become gray, I cant put on my elaborate bright green frilly show anymore


I need an umbrella


someone to worry about me
someone who will see how silly this is and make it better
someone who will explain why I feel dead
someone who will help me feel un-dead 
someone to remove the skeletons


so I will stroll the streets and look into every umbrella shop until I find my umbrella
   maybe my umbrella will be short,
                                        maybe it will have a fine carved- wood handle, 
                    maybe it will be masculine or maybe it will be bright green and frilly

As long as its waterproof enough for the both of us

As long as it stops the rain 

                                                                I'll take It

thoughts of a sparrow

I thought I knew why...
I thought I knew why the trees change colors in the fall
I thought I knew what I wanted to do with my time

I thought I knew how much time I had
I thought I knew who was on my side
I thought I knew why it rained

I thought I knew what color the stars are
I thought I knew how many light-years away and how impossible to reach they are

I thought I knew if you play with fire you will get burned
I thought I knew that when I turned out the lights the monsters lurking wouldn't be real
I thought I knew my own opinion

I thought I knew who I could trust
I thought I knew that the world would keep turning and everything would keep working, just like clockwork...

But it turns out, everything is a bit more complicated then that.

Nightlight

nightlight

age four,  you have your nightlight, when the crickets sing the nightlight is turned on

age five, you still have tubs the teddy bear, and daddy is still scaring the monsters out of the closet

age six, you have a new trendy nightlight, and a new trendy bike with no training wheels

age seven, you are trying to be brave and turn off your nightlight but you slip out of your covers after mom kisses you goodnight and flip the switch, to chase away the lingering shadows leftover from childhood

age eight, you think your BIG but your still small with alot of growing to do, you have friends and dont think you need supervision but you still slip under the covers with your parents after a particularly vivid nighmare

age nine, you are making new friends because you grew out of the old ones, just like you grew out of your favorite shoes, just like you're growing out of that ugly nightlight, and your mom's kisses goodnight

age ten, you are through with all the 'adults' patting your cheek, done with them telling you how big you were last time they came to visit, done with themed parties and little kid games

age eleven, you have packed up your nightlight in a box in the back of your closet with tubs the teddy and all your childhood momentos that your simply to Big for now

age twelve, you have your first crush you think you're big enough to handle love, you have your first heartbreak because he likes the prettier girl, you start to lose your innocence and conform to what they tell you, you are

age thirteen, you have an all new group of friends, you go to the movies, you redecorate your room with more teenageresque things

age fourteen, you have a 'style' now or what you thought was style, you are finding out who you are, building yourself back up after those crushing years of adolescence

age fifteen, you are trying to blend with the crowd, you like that kid in english class and hope he notices you, you have good friends now, you tell secrets to half knowing they are not secrets after you leave that room

age sixteen, you act crazy because why not, everything revolves around you, you dont need mom and dad anymore, they are just the people that keep a roof over your head

age seventeen, you have your first Real heartbreak, you lose your first Real friend, have your first Real experience with the cruel unfairness of life     you pull out the dusty box
               take out tubs the teddy, reread the musty childhood stories, and plug in your nightlight just to chase the new and Real shadows out from the crannies of your life.
your mom kisses you goodnight, you finally realize what she knew all along,                                                                        you never really grew up.

RoCk OuT or iN Whatever works for YoU

Rock out they said...
                                So i did.

I became a robot and all I could do was rock out, all the time.

Rock out like its just what you do, Rock out like its the alternative to breathing so you will die if you don't
Rock out like you have in your hands a disposable camera and your with all the people you love and its your job to capture the moment with the
                                                very          last                            pi  ct  ur e
Rock out like you have spare time and someone to waste it with,  Rock out like you just got your heart broken and if you stop moving then the pain will set in.
Rock out like it is RaInIng outside and there is someone taking your hand and running through it with you.
Rock out like the doctor just told you "You are going to DIE"  but you just found out that you have one more week to....LIVE!....
Rock out like your best friend isn't mad at you and it doesn't affect you,  Rock out like if you keep dancing they will always be your friEND.

Rock out like your completely sane and its everyone else that is Insane

Rock out like you just met The One, Rock out like you are someone else's One.
Rock out like its freezing outside but you don't care because your past feeling and you know that there is coco and a fire waiting for you just inside.
Rock out like your life is your own, because it is, and you just realized it and now you can do whatever you want!                                                                                      

Rock out like you don't know how much time you have left, because this could be your last chance to                                                                  R O C K O U T

Life and death... well mostly death.

I drift into a room full of people.
Sad looking people.
I am wondering why they look so bleary eyed and quite frankly pitiful.  I spot one of my close friends in the crowd, I walk over to her and tap her on the shoulder, she jumps but continues her conversation with a man i have never seen before.  I say her name and she looks around like she was listening to wind.  I get frustrated and YELL her name, she promptly excuses herself and runs to the bathroom to dab at her mascara teared cheeks.
I stay and take in my surroundings, I am in a church...
I see my family all in a line talking to people i know and people i may have seen once or twice in my life but who cares...   I follow the line of my family, and see a wooden box.... I freeze.
Click
        Click......Click.   Everything snaps into place.
I run over to the casket,  Not believing who lies there... Its me.  Im not breathing,  Why am I not breathing!!!
I try to get my brothers attention but he looks forlorn and confused.  This cannot be happening i think.  Then Click, i remember now, the bright lights the beeping machines, the muffled voices.
Then the long everlasting beeeeeeep.
The realization hits me lick a stone wall......  

 I'M DEAD.

I pay attention in earnest now,  I look to see who actually came to my funeral.  wonder if i can comfort my family, think of things i never got to do because of my untimely death, but i don't have much time before the light that has been following me around completely envelopes me....
I will be fine.  No one makes it out alive anyways.

I Walk Alone

I Walk Alone, I Walk Alone

I Walk Alone, through a town of old musty buildings,  cracked windows and boarded up doors.
I cant help but think of all the doors I have boarded up to myself, all the potential i wasted because i gave the keys to someone else.

I Walk Alone, I look around there is no one around me, they became black dots on the horizon long ago, getting a head start in the next town.  I look up and see a cloudy sky, waiting to burst with rain, even the sky has potential.  It could turn this desolate desert into something...  I look down and see sheet music,  scrubbed out dusty words, never sung.  Its too late now, they are unreadable.

I Walk Alone.  I look to the side, i see a reflection of a sullen face in a cracked window, I want to ask if they are lost and alone like me but they turn their eyes down, I notice a list.  Its a list of names,  people I havent thought about in ages, names I threw away because I thought I was fine by myself.  But now I
                                                                                                                                             Walk
                                                                                                                                                       Alone.
I Listen... SiLeNcE.  I never knew silence was quite so loud.  The desolate wind rustles my hair.  I am stepping over photographs now.  Pictures of places i have only dreamed of going, people i only dreamed of meeting, foods and smells and feelings I never experienced.  I reach down to try and salvage the scraps, but too late, the wind carries them away to others who will do something with them, showcase the photos on their walls of their pretty houses with their pretty lives.

And me i will just stay here in this lonely town because... I
      Walk
                               Alone.....

I'm Thinking about You

I'm thinking about you like a hooked fish thinks about water, like a key thinks of its lock because its the only one that fits, like rain thinks of rainbows.  I'm thinking of you like laughter thinks of tears, because isnt that laughters ultimate goal?  I'm thinking of you like a letter remembers its sender but looks forward to its receiver, like flowers think about blooming, like stars think about shooting, I wish they would start shooting because I'm thinking about you and I need a few extra wishes to get me through.
                                                        I'm never not thinking about you.
                                                                               

What is Love?

Love is hot chocolate
Love is many different shades of the same color
Love is an old comfortable pair of shoes
Love is when everything makes sense when nothing should
Love is looking through a rose colored glass
Love is tears of laughter streaming down your face
Love is a book full of blank pages, waiting to be filled
Love is glue it gets stronger over time
Love is lost & found
Love is like a swing, with its ups and downs
Love is like a box of chocolates, ya never know what your gunna get

"Voltaire...Hair...I'd rather learn about... hair?" - princess diaries

Have you ever noticed how hair can define a person?
It is kind of funny how that works... someone can have black spiky hair and they are labeled as a goth.  Someone with blue hair might be looked at as strange or even a freak.  Someone with no hair might be labeled as sick or weak, like stay away from them...they might be contagious or there is something wrong with them.

My point is, why do we have to judge based on outside appearances.  I know people who are these examples and they are nothing like the stereo type we have placed them in.  Maybe that person loves the color blue or likes the chic trendiness of black spikes.  Maybe the person cant help being bald, they just want to be "normal" they dont want to catagorized as something they arent.