Thursday, February 26, 2009
Personal Ad #4
Beautiful, illustrious student seeking friend. I'm nice, friendly, and attractive. Must be smart, be able to hold intelligent conversations, and like the outdoors. Don't keep me waiting, put on your hiking boots and let's go!
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Personal Ad #3
These heels need a break from the fast-paced confines of the city. I love pink, shopping, and shoes, shoes, shoes! Looking for a knight in shining armor covered in hundred dollar bills. Must love dogs. Please come sweep me off my feet that are held down with thousand dollar shoes.
Let's Get Personal...Again
Fancy feline looking for the purrr-fect tail to tango with. Purrr-ky and loves the color purrr-ple. Looking for the meow to my mix, someone to put the frisky in my Friskies, and will take me out to a fancy feast. Come on, Tiger.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Let's Get Personal
Oriental pharmacist seeks bitter ex-convict for card games, watching movies, and badminton. Must be short, enjoy Austin Powers, and be tolerant of drinking. Fit body a plus. Jehovah Witnesses need not apply.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Giving Me Hell
I remember it clearly. It was a Friday. Friday, February 6, to be exact. I had just woken up from a late night with the roomies and had to be on the bus by seven o’clock. I quickly jumped in the shower, and, to my dismay, couldn’t find any shampoo. I found the conditioner, but there was no shampoo. What good is conditioner without shampoo? Right away I knew that my day was not going to start off well. I got out of the shower and sat there impatiently and waited for the sleepyheads to get up. I looked at the clock and it was almost six o’clock. Amy’s phone went off, and she quickly got up, followed by Marina. I waited for them to get ready and it felt as if I’d already been ready for hours. We went down to the lobby and waited for the boss, Mrs. Shaw, to come down. We headed on out to the bus and were driven to the theater where we would watch other schools perform their plays.
Thespians are a cool, lively bunch of people. As this was my first year at the Thespian Festival, I was really excited about what was to come and the people I was going to meet. We get to the college and sit down in our designated areas. At this point, I’m feeling pretty good, despite my morning’s mishaps. As I’m quietly sitting in my seat, I remember the dreadful cold I had gotten two days earlier. I found it hard to breathe, so I looked in my purse for some medicine. And what did I find? Nothing. For weeks I had been preparing myself for this day just to make sure that I would have everything that I needed. I couldn’t believe that this was happening to me. I vented my anger to Carl, who was sitting on my left, and to Mallory, who was sitting on my right. I knew that my day was not going to be the best when there was no shampoo. It was a foreshadowing.
The first act began, and I was sitting in dreadful, painful misery. I really tried to enjoy myself, but it wasn’t working out. I looked to the front, but my attention kept getting caught on Carl with his noisy, oversized coat and Mallory whose head was practically lying on my shoulder. I leaned to my left and was uncomfortable for the rest of the performance. Hours later, or so it seemed, there was an intermission. I stretched myself out, and, a short while later, the next school began its performance. It was a comedy. I was actually starting to get into it when I heard somebody listening to their loud, obnoxious music.
“How rude,” I thought to myself.
I tried to ignore the music and pay more attention to the play, but it was overwhelming.
“Hard candy?” asked the player on stage.
The music continued to go on.
“What the hell,” said the Eskimo sitting on my left.
“Whoever is doing that should die.”
I look around to see who it could possibly be. It sounds like it’s coming from my left, so I look to the left. The Eskimo hears it coming from his right, so he looks to the right. We are looking all around, and I see this girl sitting in front of me. She looks directly at me with a disgusted look in her eyes. I’m irritated that she would even think that it was me, so I try to play off my exasperation and put my attention back to the play.
“Hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell.”
I tapped the Eskimo on his shoulder, and, at that exact moment, I was overcome with fear. I hurriedly reached into my coat pocket to pull out the iPod that I had left there earlier that day. My face grew so hot and I was so embarrassed. The obnoxious music that had been playing was all mine. It had been me the whole time. I felt horrible for distracting everyone that was around me. I felt like a complete idiot. I got laughed at the rest of the day by Carl and Mallory. I’m still embarrassed to this day.
Thespians are a cool, lively bunch of people. As this was my first year at the Thespian Festival, I was really excited about what was to come and the people I was going to meet. We get to the college and sit down in our designated areas. At this point, I’m feeling pretty good, despite my morning’s mishaps. As I’m quietly sitting in my seat, I remember the dreadful cold I had gotten two days earlier. I found it hard to breathe, so I looked in my purse for some medicine. And what did I find? Nothing. For weeks I had been preparing myself for this day just to make sure that I would have everything that I needed. I couldn’t believe that this was happening to me. I vented my anger to Carl, who was sitting on my left, and to Mallory, who was sitting on my right. I knew that my day was not going to be the best when there was no shampoo. It was a foreshadowing.
The first act began, and I was sitting in dreadful, painful misery. I really tried to enjoy myself, but it wasn’t working out. I looked to the front, but my attention kept getting caught on Carl with his noisy, oversized coat and Mallory whose head was practically lying on my shoulder. I leaned to my left and was uncomfortable for the rest of the performance. Hours later, or so it seemed, there was an intermission. I stretched myself out, and, a short while later, the next school began its performance. It was a comedy. I was actually starting to get into it when I heard somebody listening to their loud, obnoxious music.
“How rude,” I thought to myself.
I tried to ignore the music and pay more attention to the play, but it was overwhelming.
“Hard candy?” asked the player on stage.
The music continued to go on.
“What the hell,” said the Eskimo sitting on my left.
“Whoever is doing that should die.”
I look around to see who it could possibly be. It sounds like it’s coming from my left, so I look to the left. The Eskimo hears it coming from his right, so he looks to the right. We are looking all around, and I see this girl sitting in front of me. She looks directly at me with a disgusted look in her eyes. I’m irritated that she would even think that it was me, so I try to play off my exasperation and put my attention back to the play.
“Hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell.”
I tapped the Eskimo on his shoulder, and, at that exact moment, I was overcome with fear. I hurriedly reached into my coat pocket to pull out the iPod that I had left there earlier that day. My face grew so hot and I was so embarrassed. The obnoxious music that had been playing was all mine. It had been me the whole time. I felt horrible for distracting everyone that was around me. I felt like a complete idiot. I got laughed at the rest of the day by Carl and Mallory. I’m still embarrassed to this day.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Ewe Kill Me
Freshmen and sophomores have to be the strangest people on the planet. They are kinda in their awkward stages of life where they are just entering high school and appear to be really immature. As I sit in Mr. Head’s room, I realize I am sitting amongst a group of monkeys; really loud, smelly, silly monkeys. I’m surprised that they weren’t hanging from the ceiling upside down. Señor Cabeza was trying his best to control them.
“You’ll get homework again if you keep talking.”
“We don’t want homework again. You guys be quiet,” blurts out the loud mouth of the bunch.
It wasn’t ten seconds later, and everyone started chattering again. I smile to myself while Mr. Head is trying to control his frustration.
Meanwhile, in the back corner of the classroom, Kaleb starts blurting out Chewbacca sounds.
“Knock it off,” said Mr. Head testily.
Mr. Head turned his back to the class, and Chewbacca did it again; twice. Everybody laughed.
Before the Spanish game started, there was a quick discussion about the trip to Spain.
“Are there any cute girls in Spain?” asked the middle Allen.
“There are none,” replied Señor Head.
“Big ones, small ones, some the size of your head,” could be heard from the back of the classroom being sung by two sophomore boys.
Then the game had begun. My ears started burning while I was listening to these Spanish I kids try to pronunciate the words correctly. Inside my head I’m telling them to say “moo-sica”, like a cow, not “m-ewe-sica” like a sheep. I slowly start daydreaming about farm animals, and I crack myself up when I realize this. Then, all of a sudden, I see this finger glowing red out of the corner of my eye. I instantly think of E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, and, if you knew me, you would know that I’ve been deathly afraid of E.T. ever since I was a little girl. I almost peed my pants and ran out of the classroom when I saw it. It turns out that it was only a fake, light up finger that Little Sacry put on his finger.
“Hey, Mr. Head, look.” He lifts up his finger and is ignored. He calls to Mr. Head again.
“What?”
“Look.”
“Wow.”
Mr. Head then chuckles.
“What does sexta mean?”
Now the sex jokes are flying around the classroom.
“They were doing it in the backseat of her car, and you could hear it from a mile away.”
“I was not,” screamed the eccentric red head.
“No, it means sixth,” explained Mr. Head.
“Indeed-i-o,” murmured Chewbacca in the back.
The game was coming to a close, and fourth period was almost over. I reflected back on the time that I spent with those dirty apes and was glad that it was almost over. I was ecstatic when the bell rang, and we all stampeded out of the classroom to lunch.
“You’ll get homework again if you keep talking.”
“We don’t want homework again. You guys be quiet,” blurts out the loud mouth of the bunch.
It wasn’t ten seconds later, and everyone started chattering again. I smile to myself while Mr. Head is trying to control his frustration.
Meanwhile, in the back corner of the classroom, Kaleb starts blurting out Chewbacca sounds.
“Knock it off,” said Mr. Head testily.
Mr. Head turned his back to the class, and Chewbacca did it again; twice. Everybody laughed.
Before the Spanish game started, there was a quick discussion about the trip to Spain.
“Are there any cute girls in Spain?” asked the middle Allen.
“There are none,” replied Señor Head.
“Big ones, small ones, some the size of your head,” could be heard from the back of the classroom being sung by two sophomore boys.
Then the game had begun. My ears started burning while I was listening to these Spanish I kids try to pronunciate the words correctly. Inside my head I’m telling them to say “moo-sica”, like a cow, not “m-ewe-sica” like a sheep. I slowly start daydreaming about farm animals, and I crack myself up when I realize this. Then, all of a sudden, I see this finger glowing red out of the corner of my eye. I instantly think of E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, and, if you knew me, you would know that I’ve been deathly afraid of E.T. ever since I was a little girl. I almost peed my pants and ran out of the classroom when I saw it. It turns out that it was only a fake, light up finger that Little Sacry put on his finger.
“Hey, Mr. Head, look.” He lifts up his finger and is ignored. He calls to Mr. Head again.
“What?”
“Look.”
“Wow.”
Mr. Head then chuckles.
“What does sexta mean?”
Now the sex jokes are flying around the classroom.
“They were doing it in the backseat of her car, and you could hear it from a mile away.”
“I was not,” screamed the eccentric red head.
“No, it means sixth,” explained Mr. Head.
“Indeed-i-o,” murmured Chewbacca in the back.
The game was coming to a close, and fourth period was almost over. I reflected back on the time that I spent with those dirty apes and was glad that it was almost over. I was ecstatic when the bell rang, and we all stampeded out of the classroom to lunch.
Friday, February 13, 2009
"Breaking the Mold"
This world is so cold.
It makes me cry.
I was born to break the mold.
A vision of happiness is one I cannot hold.
I scream in the night.
This world is so cold.
Life is easy, or so I was told.
Everyone knows that is a lie.
I was born to break the mold.
I look for answers, but all I find is fool's gold.
It's just not right.
This world is so cold.
But, behold!
I find hope in the stars of the sky.
I was born to break the mold.
Under the pressure, I did not fold.
There is always happiness in sight.
This world is so cold.
I was born to break the mold.
It makes me cry.
I was born to break the mold.
A vision of happiness is one I cannot hold.
I scream in the night.
This world is so cold.
Life is easy, or so I was told.
Everyone knows that is a lie.
I was born to break the mold.
I look for answers, but all I find is fool's gold.
It's just not right.
This world is so cold.
But, behold!
I find hope in the stars of the sky.
I was born to break the mold.
Under the pressure, I did not fold.
There is always happiness in sight.
This world is so cold.
I was born to break the mold.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
"Dallice"
What happened to tomorrow?
You promised you would be there.
My heart is drowning in sorrow.
It's getting hard to swallow.
I need some fresh air.
What happened to tomorrow?
I would climb Mt. Kilimanjaro.
In fact, I would go anywhere.
My heart is drowning in sorrow.
In my despair, I will wallow.
This whole ordeal has been a nightmare.
What happened to tomorrow?
I'm feeling so hollow.
This truth is hard to bear.
My heart is drowning in sorrow.
It is you I will follow,
And I will share my prayers.
What happened to tomorrow?
My heart is drowning in sorrow.
In memory of Dally.
You promised you would be there.
My heart is drowning in sorrow.
It's getting hard to swallow.
I need some fresh air.
What happened to tomorrow?
I would climb Mt. Kilimanjaro.
In fact, I would go anywhere.
My heart is drowning in sorrow.
In my despair, I will wallow.
This whole ordeal has been a nightmare.
What happened to tomorrow?
I'm feeling so hollow.
This truth is hard to bear.
My heart is drowning in sorrow.
It is you I will follow,
And I will share my prayers.
What happened to tomorrow?
My heart is drowning in sorrow.
In memory of Dally.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
"A Villanelle for the Cows"
The cows press muzzles to the swelling green.
Their heavy bodies carried with much grace,
scattered, they complete the pastoral scene.
They leave the pasture close-mowed when they pass
and move across the grass with steady pace.
The cows press muzzles to the swelling green.
Their printed tracks in field, wood, brook are seen.
On hills they trample paths from every trace.
Scattered, they complete the pastoral scene.
When sunset dims their range they are serene,
and standing round the hills remain in place.
The cows press muzzles to the swelling green.
The coyote calls among the hills ring keen,
but cattle, undisturbed, still hold their space.
Scattered, they complete the pastoral scene.
All day their busy mouths crop, cut, and glean,
methodically, at slow but steady pace,
the cows press muzzles to the swelling green,
and scattered, they complete the pastoral scene.
-Paul Williams.
I like this poem because I grew up with cows, so I guess you could say it reminds me of home.
Their heavy bodies carried with much grace,
scattered, they complete the pastoral scene.
They leave the pasture close-mowed when they pass
and move across the grass with steady pace.
The cows press muzzles to the swelling green.
Their printed tracks in field, wood, brook are seen.
On hills they trample paths from every trace.
Scattered, they complete the pastoral scene.
When sunset dims their range they are serene,
and standing round the hills remain in place.
The cows press muzzles to the swelling green.
The coyote calls among the hills ring keen,
but cattle, undisturbed, still hold their space.
Scattered, they complete the pastoral scene.
All day their busy mouths crop, cut, and glean,
methodically, at slow but steady pace,
the cows press muzzles to the swelling green,
and scattered, they complete the pastoral scene.
-Paul Williams.
I like this poem because I grew up with cows, so I guess you could say it reminds me of home.
"Pegasus Villanelle"
The Pegasus flies into the night,
its majestic wings the color of gold.
The poets inspired by this sight.
An immortal offspring, purely white
from Greek mythology told.
The Pegasus flies into the night.
With eyes crystal blue and bright,
Poseidon's power was the mold.
The poets inspired by this sight.
Perseus freed it for the flight,
Medusa no longer had her hold.
The Pegasus flies into the night.
Bellephron saw it in the light,
with a gold bridle he was bold.
The poets inspired by this sight.
On Mount Olympus it reached the heights,
of its grace and beauty Zeus extolled.
The Pegasus flies into the night.
The poets inspired by this sight.
-Candice Kelley
I like this poem because it is pure fantasy and Greek mythology.
its majestic wings the color of gold.
The poets inspired by this sight.
An immortal offspring, purely white
from Greek mythology told.
The Pegasus flies into the night.
With eyes crystal blue and bright,
Poseidon's power was the mold.
The poets inspired by this sight.
Perseus freed it for the flight,
Medusa no longer had her hold.
The Pegasus flies into the night.
Bellephron saw it in the light,
with a gold bridle he was bold.
The poets inspired by this sight.
On Mount Olympus it reached the heights,
of its grace and beauty Zeus extolled.
The Pegasus flies into the night.
The poets inspired by this sight.
-Candice Kelley
I like this poem because it is pure fantasy and Greek mythology.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
"Always"
I look into your eyes,
And I can see your pain.
I don't want to say goodbye
Because my love for you is something I would not feign.
You will soon be gone,
And I will be lost.
For what have I won,
But all of your trust.
Far away you will be,
In a land of magic,
Away from me,
Oh, how tragic.
Though far away, please know that I love you, dear,
And in my heart you will always be near.
By: Me.
And I can see your pain.
I don't want to say goodbye
Because my love for you is something I would not feign.
You will soon be gone,
And I will be lost.
For what have I won,
But all of your trust.
Far away you will be,
In a land of magic,
Away from me,
Oh, how tragic.
Though far away, please know that I love you, dear,
And in my heart you will always be near.
By: Me.
"Friendship"
We had a friendship pure and true,
A friendship time could never cease,
That in sad moments, could renew,
And bring to us release,
We had a friendship, you and I,
That was taken much for granted.
We thought that it would never die,
Much like the seed that we have planted.
And in such haste did we forget,
The love required to grow,
And at our feet it shall be set,
Drowning from feelings never shown.
Maybe we can save this seed before its time is through,
For I've never had a friendship, as the one i have with you.
I chose this poem because it made me realize how much I take my friends for granted. We get so wrapped up in our own lives that we don't have time for each other.
A friendship time could never cease,
That in sad moments, could renew,
And bring to us release,
We had a friendship, you and I,
That was taken much for granted.
We thought that it would never die,
Much like the seed that we have planted.
And in such haste did we forget,
The love required to grow,
And at our feet it shall be set,
Drowning from feelings never shown.
Maybe we can save this seed before its time is through,
For I've never had a friendship, as the one i have with you.
I chose this poem because it made me realize how much I take my friends for granted. We get so wrapped up in our own lives that we don't have time for each other.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
"Fascination"
The paper, pure, seductive, sends its call,
Daring me to write immortal verse;
A pencil lies here, neat and magical --
This lure to pen and parchment is a curse!
There is no poem crying for release,
No thought I must express before it's lost;
But in my restless little search for peace
I opened the wrong drawer, and so was tossed
Into the fire of my addiction, which I can
But quell by adding fuel in scanning rhyme.
At length this page is sullied by the span
Of fourteen lines, and I'm safe for a time.
Blank sheets, fresh pens or pencils, trap my mind:
I must write, good or bad. Critics, be kind.
Kay Nanling Michaelson, 1971
I like this poem because writing is, in fact, seductive. Once you start, you can't stop.
Daring me to write immortal verse;
A pencil lies here, neat and magical --
This lure to pen and parchment is a curse!
There is no poem crying for release,
No thought I must express before it's lost;
But in my restless little search for peace
I opened the wrong drawer, and so was tossed
Into the fire of my addiction, which I can
But quell by adding fuel in scanning rhyme.
At length this page is sullied by the span
Of fourteen lines, and I'm safe for a time.
Blank sheets, fresh pens or pencils, trap my mind:
I must write, good or bad. Critics, be kind.
Kay Nanling Michaelson, 1971
I like this poem because writing is, in fact, seductive. Once you start, you can't stop.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
