Thursday, December 13, 2012

Short Story.


The Expedition

The early day provided boy issues and frustrating family issues, so an adventure was needed. That dark warm summer night had the howl that only sounds when a storm is coming. Ariel was always the most adventurous of us all. The four of us crawled into her little red car, Sarabi as we called it: Ariel and Stephanie up front, Cassandra and me in the back, knees pressed against seats and legs touching. We were ready for the adventure Sarabi was about to take us on.  We made it maybe a mile, before we saw that first great flash. Bright enough for us to see each other’s faces clearly, even at midnight.
We were giddy. Wanting to get a better view we drove until we saw the darkest corner we could find, in a city filled with bright lights skewing our view of the sky that awaited us. We parked and we waited. The first boom rattled the entire car and some of us possibly peed a little bit from the frightening call. With our attention focused on the show that mother nature was providing us, no one noticed the red and blue lights flashing behind us. When the tap of a flashlight against the window came there were no longer any dry panties in the car. I don’t think any of us have screamed that loud before and I don’t think the poor young man in uniform was expecting to see four high school girls in that car. He had us roll down the window and asked if we were okay. We explained that we were just trying to get a better view of the show, and he explained that he was just looking for drug dealers. Considering this was a common dealing corner we all agreed it wasn’t the best place for us to be parked. Once apologies were made and everyone was calm, it was time to head home. That was enough excitement for one night.
Or so we thought. Driving down the long empty road home, we saw a car parked off the side in the distance. As we approached, there, on the hood of that grey SUV were two very naked adults showing the world just how much they love each other. I mean they had the idea, sex during a thunderstorm, yes please. But on the side of a main road, perfectly placed for four innocent high school girls to see them do things, and hear them make noises that none of us had experienced yet? We couldn’t look away, but we couldn’t look straight at them. So we sped past and put all of our energy into just simply getting home.
The excitement of the night must have gotten to us. We were not ready for calm or ordinary, just yet. It was summer, we were young, and the weather was perfect. It was time for skinny-dipping. Ariel had the perfect pool and the perfect way of convincing you to be a rebel, and yes, skinny-dipping was very rebellious for us in those days. We stripped down and jumped in. Splashing and laughing and trying to remember that we were in this together, we forgot all embarrassment, all heartache, all anger we may have been feeling earlier that day. We were on top of the world. We jumped out, our bodies glowing in the night, we ran through the long raspberry fields behind the house. Feeling the dirt between our toes, tasting the sweet red juices, laughing until we fell over. We were feeling the freedom of the couple on the side of the road; we were alive. Every time the lightening came down we paused. Every time the thunder growled we clapped. It was the most magnificent feeling in the world that we thought four high school girls could ever feel. It was a night for adventures, a night for daring expeditions. Mother nature challenged us with her adventurous calls of terror and we accepted. 

Numb


Numb Hands

There she stands breathing in the cold air deep
The look of solid terror begins to show
Images soaring, her mind is about to leap
And there she stands bright eyes of a young doe

Simple words are not enough to express
The pain felt and all the thoughts to take place
And time stood still in the midst of this mess
Quiet breaths with numb hands to hold her face

In this moment it seems all that she once feared
All of the whispers in the dark of night
All of the shadows began to disappear
Those deep quiet breaths as she planned to fight

Holding herself with all that she could
Slowly tears fell, with great strength, there she stood.

Replacement


Replacement for You Learn. 
*for a creative writing class, we had to pick a poem and replace the nouns and adjectives with our own. This was mine. 

After a while I hear the fragile change
Between whispering in the night and calling to a soul,

And I learn that breath doesn't mean life
And quiet doesn't mean peace.

And I begin to understand that softness isn’t pain
And laughter isn’t pure,
And I begin to decide my fate
With my breath steady and my eyes closed
With the strength of a woman, not the boldness of a man,
And I learn to live all my thoughts for today
Because tomorrow's adventure is too unknown for plans
And love has a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while I learn...
That even smiles fade when you hold too tight.
So I steady my feet and hear my own soul,
Instead of holding on someone to bring me life.
And I learn that I really can endure...
That I really am pure
And I really do have life...
And I learn and listen...
With every good-bye I learn.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

A Peaceful Place

Here is a little video I did for a class. It is one of my favorite personal works. Not the best video, but it gets the point across....



Thursday, May 17, 2012

Dear Demographic - Amber Tamblyn


I’d like to say: 

As a former member of your clique
(and a current member of your representation)
I know it’s hard to be a young woman ages 18-to 24-years-old.

They put you in a time slot
that doesn’t reflect your views
with a ratings system
that doesn’t respect your truths.

Listen:
From one cynical self-hater-by-default to another,
please put down the magazine article that has bored you
into hair extensions and reality television.
Stop with the 20th century redux:

Make your own era. You are not out of your own league.
Fake eyelashes will not get you Ryan Gosling.
Nor will sporting a Barack Obama keychain.

No need to break all the rules:
Just bend them into balloon animals,
give them to your little brothers and sisters.
Show them how silly and cute American culture is.
Time will naturally deflate all of it.

Start mosh-pits in the crowded thoughts of tycoons:
Stir something up with your tongue.
Sip someone else’s logic then spit it out
(preferably when they’re looking).
Taste test your own style. 
Get your mind into the gutter of others:
Search for the things they let go down the drain or threw away.
Everyone’s scared to tell you how they really feel.
Including Oprah.
Stop getting wasted and throwing up
your individuality outside of clubs.
There is no fast food to help you cope with that.

Leave your mark on the world
with something that can’t be chosen from
a tattoo book of Chinese symbols
for the lower back.

Pierce something other than your skin:
When I tell you to think for yourself,
don’t give a shit what I say.

(© 2010 Amber tamblyn)

Thursday, January 19, 2012

A letter never sent

I have this box of letters. Letters that I have written, yet I never am able to send. See, there is a time of year, which happens to be right about now, where I start to think about those I miss, those I have lost. Each year there are a few more that I have to add to the list. I know, I know... as you some fall a way others will come along. Still my heart aches for these few people. Friends, family, lovers. So, I start to write a letter. Something to say I'm sorry, I miss you, I love you. Every single letter filled with as much truth and heart possible. The fact that I am pouring my heart out in these letters is not what holds me back from sending them. What holds me back is the thought of, once I send them what will the response be? Will I get a response, and if I do will be full of respect, hatred, love or most of all forgiveness? I start to think of all the possible responses and scare myself into just folding the address letter up and putting it in the box full of unopened letters. Never knowing, never facing that small fear. I guess the reason why I am writing this for the entire internet world to read is because I am curious. I want opinions. What would you do if you received a letter from some one you were once close with? Maybe once loved, once were in love with. Would you want to see their name on the bottom of a love filled letter. Would you judge them, would you forgive them? One day I may build up all of my courage and send these letters, or maybe they will stay unopened in that box for my great-grandchildren to find.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

What I want.

It’s the new year, so it is time for new resolutions…to break. So I have been trying to think of what I want to change, what I want to continue doing, and what I want to start doing. So much easier said than done…. I could go with the classic, get back into shape, start attending church regularly again, the ones that we all make and do so well at for about 4 months and then life just kind of gets in the way. The other night at a beautiful ladies wine night with two of the most marvelous young women I know, I was told to make a list. Not a list of resolutions necessarily, but a list of what I am excited for. What do I look forward to come from this year? What do I want to look forward to come from the year? I have been thinking about this, and she did say it can be as broad or as specific as you want, but I am still having trouble with it. I can think of silly little things such as summer time, breaks from school, times that are inevitable to happen. But then I think back on the past years and what I regretted from the year, what I never did, or even tried to accomplish. So I decided to take this opportunity to make a list of, yes, the silly little things that don’t really mean a lot, but also make a list of things that push me to finish them. I have a lot of friends that keep kidding around about “giving zero fucks this year” but I guess I am taking the complete opposite route and taking this chance to give a fuck about what I do. (No offense to you lovely people who’s motto is give zero fucks.) I agree with that, in the sense that don’t care about what other think, this is your life, you live it through you, not others. At the same time I want to give a fuck. I want to feel everything that happens to me. I want to push myself, I want to fall down and get some scrapes but then get right back up and keep going. So. I am taking this list to push myself to care about everything I do. At the same time, I am taking this opportunity as well as the classic motto and not going to care about what people think. Not going to let others get me down about what is on my list if they disagree with me. Moral of the story, this list situation is showing me that I give a fuck about what I want for me. I don’t give a fuck if you disagree.