typical end-of-the-year post

This thing has been a diary of sorts, since most of what I write is really personal. These 365 days have been insane for lack of a better word (or description for that matter). My January was fun; I had nothing but it was fun. Soon everything began to wind up really tight and somewhere along spring, it snapped.

It was like a really lame roller-coaster, those kiddy ones at the carnivals that don't do much but go up and down. It was stupid. I was upset by silly things, I committed stupider mistakes which were no less than "justified" at the time. I learned so much.

Summer came, along with it, your typical romance.

By fall, I realized that I wasn't doing much with my life. Nothing, would never lead me to success. It's not that I was a bad person but I had no drive for myself. The change felt as if it only took 12 hours. I woke up one day and said, "enough is enough" and did what I felt was needed.

I grew up this year, from 21 to 22. I'm an adult, seriously an adult, with responsibilities and bills. I go to school and have a pretty decent job. I pay for my own things, take my classes, do most of my homework. My first quarter at MIU should have been better but it's all based on learning. I know next quarter I'll have to dedicate some more time if I really want to stand out from the crowd.

I know what tune ups are necessary and this time around it will be that much better. 2011 holds great things for me and I KNOW IT.

All I have to do is wake up tomorrow morning and live life to it's fullest.

bubbles and mosquitoes

Have you ever been trapped in the gray? No neutral does good but white was too light and black was probably better. But here in the gray, they come visit.
Not those pleasant, having-your-grandma-over visits, no. Those pesky intruding ones that tiptoe in while barging all together. You should see them.
One of them said something about death but I shrugged it off. The next one spoke of sins and I liked it. It seemed almost mystical. Then it made sense, the sinning and the death.
I thought it couldn't be that bad but it got colder and darker. Remembering well, the air was moist. I tried to breath but it was drowning my lungs. I panicked! One of them took me back but--but I wanted to see.
I WANTED TO SEE!

This fucking gray, I tell you. He's a real son of a bitch.
Hey black, let white take a walk on your side. Let's see what sins you get from them.


-----

I wanna feel again. I ask for feelings
and my mind gets caught in a net called
IDLE.

f*ck you.

last year

It's not nice to feel unwanted. I know it. It's far too familiar for me. I've been loved and cared for, like flowers, but also, I've been in the weeds.

"You should apologize to her," I told him.
"But, why?" he said.
"Well, because, she had no other choice but to leave, cos' you're being selfish." I replied.

There was a stiff silence and he stared me in the eye.

I answered his glare: "I don't know. I'm giving you a sensitive approach. I don't know how you would usually handle the situation."

"I feel bad..." He drifted into thought.
"Well, if you feel bad, it's cos' you know you did something wrong."

He got up, lit a cigarette and got lost again into his mixed feelings. The situation was neatly uncalled for and what was necessary to him was excessive to her.

"You need to start prioritizing. You need to realize you only think about yourself and she has to think of her child and then herself. Putting that into perspective should set you well on your way..." I felt I had possibly said too much.

Then there's crossing lines. I know about this as well. There's a border, an edge. Passing that line can lead to great consequences and everyone should always be well aware.

[I guess that's where cool thoughts come into play. After the situation has settled and everything has been said, time needs to be taken for the waters to calm. And then can we make our move and take precise action. But not until that moment has been reached, otherwise, it may all disappear, like dust in sporadic gusts of wind.]

112210

Como seras capaz de pillar fuego
Si ocurre en movimientos lentos
como una partida de ajedrez,
como cualquier juego

Sin embargo, cuidado, que quema
atento y lento y así aprenderás
que lena por lena, arderá mas

Seras capaz de mantener el calor,
justo cuando llega el invierno
no se,
me pregunto

Puede que si o que no
puede que sera tu sabor
sabroso y contradictorio
su dulce menta mezclado con tu calor

y tus besos, un habito, una adicción,
sin medidas, ni cura, ni solución

Así que, aquí me quedo,
esperando a que juegues de nuevo
Tu, olas de viento
y yo llamas de fuego

A ver, que crees?
Que el sol
simplemente es
la luna?
luna cubierta en llamas

O quizas
mil veces preferias
que te cuente que
el sol es la luna
pero desnudo


Cuando anochece
fuera sale la esfera
de leche
y por encima del mar
Mira...
mira como brillan
pequenas gotas lacteas
como si reflejando las estrellas

------

Dulce, dulce luna
la fragilidad nuestra
en este universo tan mas alla
y aqui
somos tan pequenos

Y porque no pretendemos
que yo soy la luna
y tus llamas solares me consumen?

Asi logramos ser grandes e importantes
siempre.

oops.

summer for lovers

I was tempted to swoop my finger across it, as if to lick the cream off. The sun seemed frosty in the morning and it was a muted brightness that condensed on the ground to dew.

"The course of true love never did run smooth."

The streams of heat emitted were tender and sweet to my shoulders. The grass blades flickered in the breeze and I'm reminded of the candles you'd light by your bedside.

The shadows in the room were graceful and full of rhythm. The lit wax was releasing an enticing smell of gardenias and sandalwood. I remember always wanting to be by your side because we were in synch and you always made me sigh.

But just as the sun rises and we met, the sun also sets.

shadow play

The sun used to set moods for us and our day and how we would use the light to play, in the sun, in the shadows, in the drizzled rain, in the bed. The sun that is our life source and decides when most of the world is awake and the other side slaved by the moon and the night and the darkness. The sun which emits heat that feeds vitamin D to our bodies but also nourishes our green cousins that provide us with such pure oxygen.
Sun, my son, giving me warm in the cold and in the heat a shimmering glow as to appear like a pretty penny.

space between spheres

Can you come back down from the moon?
I'm going to be burning down this ladder,
really soon.

Would you please stop being to selfish?
Stubborn, stupid, what's the difference?

You can't hide out there all day.
You better come around.
I'm not demanding but I just...

I want to get rid of this frown.

Get back to reality.
Get over it!
Get ready.

get, get,
to get,
to get here,
together.

I miss you, please.
Earth wants you home.

"untitled"

the confused and
never-really-lonesome heart,
blood pumping connections,
anatomical art

oh my Heart,
in constant conference
with my Mind,
mindlessly worried about time

the art of the Heart,
the menacing Mind,
the need of finding a thin line

to agree, to disagree,
to digress, to feel free

the things of wine

desperation washed over her,
like the waves smoothing a stone.

at the bay, you watched
while nature took it's toll.



(that just happened, right now)

{ }

whispering to me
(whisper it to me)

puckered breaths,
tickling tatters
to-tell-tales.

my locks lock
your sense of smell
succulently silky
and sly, sly, lies.

ran, run, running
through your finely
fickle fingers.

imagining me
(imagine me)

"I am art"

Praise the feathers off
my ears and slimming my wrists.

Bless my hands and eyes
which see such lavishing lakes,
shimmering gems.

Kiss me, within my soul,
where my mouth connects to the fountain
my inner portal,
sending me in between
the layers of your own body.

Smiling at me through the rays of the sun,
gently you tell me:
"You are home".

ode

As an ode to you,
my plan is to
shoot up to the moon.

When I get up there,
I'll bust it with my bare fists,
I'll crack it
and consume all that is
inside of you.

Your blue, your blood and brain.
Your swirling brilliance,
your paint and your nest.

To shoot up the moon,
to STEAL it's very essence
to nourish my SELFISH soul.

To shoot up
the liquid it oozes
that tranquily transcends me
through trances within
two-dimensions.

You are my sheet,
stained like the lunar sphere.

Your geometry, my religion.
Your light, my savior.

When I shoot up to the moon,
I'll aim a star-tipped arrow
down to the Earth.
I'll pretend to penetrate you
in the heart.

cotton clouds

toes, toes, knees, nose.
kiss me, kiss me, above here
in the atmosphere.
touch, touch,
everything in between
you, you, me.
your spine and bones
physically free me.
toes, toes, knees, nose,
kiss me, kiss me, above here
in the outer part
of our atmosphere.

~~~~


the super famous stars
aren't as galactical as my mind,
which,
is really free to the cosmos
and not consumed by one soul.

the clues are blue

You looked like, yellow, then. Like you were filled with biscuits and marmalade and tea. You were stuffed. And you spoke in tongues or as if perhaps, talking with your mouth full.

Indulgence (indulgence)

"In what, you say?"

"It's my accent," you snob.

But you still went on, as you were.

I almost resented you then and that time we were coming back from the countryside.

"Oh, yes, yes, quite."

"AHEM!"

You had said you had seen greener, fuller trees before and that you weren't impressed.

I should've known then.

anxiety

the only thing
keeping me sane
is pretending that I
don't exist.

under any conditions,
just a beam, shot,
from the moon.

that I am just a light,
quicker than sound and yet
be soothing like thunder.

//

the only thing
keeping me sane
is pretending that i don't
exist.

you don't either.
we, you and me
are only part of someone else's
creative soul,
implanted,
like a seed,
branching with character, in the brain,
down, building your spine.

how hard is your character?
from what exactly are you made of?

//

the only thing keeping me sane is:
writing this and the pain felt on my hips.

I am grateful for this, I can do as I please.

let's see how this feels tomorrow morning; let's see how this reads.

this morning...

I woke up with a fantastic sense of refreshment. Unexplainable and citrusy after my shower and I feel full of energy. I can't recall just about the last time I woke up in this much of a good and positive mood. I'm ready to go and do things! I'M NOT EVEN HUNG OVER. Heavens bless fine wine, complex cheeses and good times.

And to relieve more of the previous stump I found myself in:

"Face it, feelings are mutable, and an emotion that seems permanent one minute could be a distant memory the next. Instead of focusing on what could be, figure out what really is and then make your move with haste."

Keeping the negative at bay. :)

you should step out of the room...

and start thinking about what you tell, me you understand me?
i am far beyond you. ahead of what your galaxy would every think it
though it was at,at, narrow that down,
its far too elaborate and i need to disconnect,
apart from you, and here, and shit...
do you remember structure?

we would go ahead and kill all units
unless the money came through bits.

what? assign? no, as much as I want to..

Its ok, battery is low, talk to you--yes, yes, bye!

mas vale que no tengas que eligir...

dejame quererte, dejame quererte.


it's similar to an admiring hate or to the most hateful of which you cannot place your eyes on this, eat it .Es lo que quieres.

que te puede decic? que te voy a contar?


you're a fucking dumbass.

I've been thinking a lot of writing. Ideas that surface from the backs of my brain in the most unexpected moments. Last night at my nephews showcase, I found myself scribbling on the back of the program. INSPIRATION IS EVERYWHERE! A notebook is what I need to lodge around with me where ever I go. Maybe even a tape recorder or something along the lines.

The theater smelled like old leather shoes. These high curtains could distract you, they play off the same color lipstick you love so much on me. They look as if they would feel thick, like your lashes or your hair when it's wet; velvet.

The creative drip-drop faucet in the back of my mind cannot form a pool nor pond and much less a river or any larger body of water. If at any point in time it begins to flow much more than this, I'll be back here, to the drawing board, my portal, my canvas, my blog.

Getting back into the "Creative Habit"

I began to read this book by Twayla Tharp called "The Creative Habit". So here I go. She talks about finding your place during the day where you feel refreshed and you can do what you do best, then.
I have yet to find my time of day or my ways of doing so but this is a start. Right?

Left.

Right.

I'm still finding my self, my portals, my creativity, my ventilation. I do believe, dearest blogspot, that you are helping me; or perhaps I'm helping myself by typing things on a "daily" basis.

I sit here with my instant coffee, my Parliment lights and my 100 calorie fudge striped cookies and I think, well, this could be it. This is a start. Everyday is a start. I need to move. Move forward and quit dwelling on the precious time I've taken so much for granted. I will begin to use it wisely.

I complain too much and do too little. This is a FACT.

But it's snack time, coffee time, that time of day where you relax after you've actually done something.

Luckily, I have someone who pushes me and sees so much more in me than I ever gave myself credit for, my boyfriend. I realize it shouldn't take someone elses encouraging words for me to take action but sometimes, like in these times of my life, I need that. We need that.

So it's time to get into the habit. It's time to move on, to excersise, to better myself, to get back into school, to write more poetry, to start painting, to stop smoking, to start saving, to stop whining, to STOP complaining.

Here I go.

moderately necessary

The few bits of vitamin D are fading away, along with the last of the suns bright rays, for the day. Our evening melts in to the pinks, the oranges, the purples, the beauty.

But our sky always shines. Whether it be the stars or the clouds, the sun or the moon, there's always something more out there to look to.

22610

Contigo soy feliz y contigo se amar; nos sobran las maneras, los motivos, el tiempo y ocurre en todas partes.

With you I'm happy and with you I know how to love; there are too many ways,too many reasons, too much time and it happens everywhere.

Cuanta felicidad puede contener un solo cuerpo sin explotar y convertirse en estrella fugaz? Así quiero acabar yo, una luna en tu cielo cuando oscurece el mundo y se enfría. Una esporádica combustión y a la vez ser tu calor.

How much happiness can a single body contain before exploding and turning into a shooting star? That's how I want to end up. A light in your sky when the world turns dark and cold. A spontaneous combustion and also be your warmth.

Eres mi amor, mis pensamientos, hecho de mis besos y moldado con mis abrazos. Eres mi piel y mis cicatrices, mis pestañas y mis pies. Eres la sangre que recorre todo mi cuerpo regulando su temperatura. Me alimentas a cucharadas con tus sonrisas y chistes y me proteges con tus palabras, aparte de tu cuerpo.

You are my love, my thoughts, made from my kisses and molded by my hugs. You are my skin and my scars, my eyelashes and my feet. You are the blood circulating in my body, regulating its temperature. You feed me spoonfuls of your smiles and jokes and protect me with your words, along with your body.

Eres mi flor, con el centro color fuchsia expresando tu pasión por el amor y a la vez una diversión juvenil. Tus pétalos amarillos brillan como el ámbar, mandando vibraciones positivas a todo aquel que bendices con tu pura presencia. Llego a creer que hasta la Luna te tiene celos, puesto que es lo mas sagrado en mi pequeño universo.

You are my flower, with a fuchsia center, expressing your passion for love but also your playful youth. Your petals are yellow and shine like amber, sending positive vibrations to whoever you bless with your pure presence. I've come to believe that even the Moon is jealous of you, which is the most sacred thing in my small universe.

Mi Rey, de cuantas maneras TE QUIERO.

My King, how many ways I LOVE YOU.

relevant day-to-day matters

The main part of me is injured in four different areas, like the corners of a square. Four. I had my back adjusted today for the first time. I will have to be getting continuous treatment in order to fix it all and align my hips and shoulders again.

This explains so much pain. So much pain.

I'm too young for this. Someone,please, get me a drink. Also, if it isn't too much to ask, a job that offers health insurance. It would be like giving my lungs fresh air to breath and filtered water to drink and organic food to eat.

Is it true? Could it be?

We're both falling as fast as our hearts
go soaring away with our minds and play
in outer space they saw us wave
from down below they envied us.

We sat there, in this quaintly lit place.He dug into his pocket laying out the box of cigarettes on the table.I ordered a glass and blankly stared him in the eyes.

"I would've ordered you something better."

"I can make my own decisions. Thanks for the concern."
I flipped back the top and took one of his cigarettes.

He lit me. I took my first drag.

"When did you start smoking?"

"When did you leave?"

"Oh, that's not fair--"

"But, what makes you?"

Second drag. I wasn't going to bite my tongue.

"Why are we even here?"

"I'm not sure. Why are you here?"

"Why did you want to meet me? What is there to say?"

"Why did you agree?"

Sneer. Third drag. I had a sip of wine. It was dry, suiting the entire atmosphere.

"This was a bad idea."

"Yeah, you always were a bad idea."

He got up and left. Coward, couldn't ever stick around.

dreamy jambalaya

I take this with me.
This and a lot of you.
A lot that you cut in me.
Crevasses that need to be filled
with music and luxury.
Sweet nothings and plenty somethings.
With oceans and sunsets
but also with broken chairs and some ache.
I'm not looking,
you'll get here.
But come with lots of things to share
and experiences and books.
And write your own so I can read your way
but come quick!
I'm eager for the bay.
Excited for your existence
but not making any expectations.

You're simply my creation.

For now.

________________________________________________

Filled up to the tipping top
I take that back
I'm really not.

You've exposed me to more
than I would usual bargain for.
It ignites a new interest in me
but you and I can no longer be.

I look for these things
and my things.
But your things nonetheless.
And his, and his, and hers,
and so on, and so forth.

to be fulfilled, as I once was.
But it just doesn't take one anymore.
Now it takes one who has it all
because I know it all, now.

the roughest of drafts

I have reprogrammed my brain so that when it connects it fails to correlate your existence. You become nothing but a dead neuron. All dried out of blood but feelings flow on. Neurotic loves Chaotic but my hands can't take the tremors. Quicker than a blink, but you're worse than a fever. Delirium led no where but set up an escape. Out, you are a trickling sweat and my mind somehow gets hit. It feels like sex.

It was all told in spiral form

Because I think in circles and that's how it goes.
Who ever really knows?
They're light so intimately struck me with such beauty.
indescribably.
It seems magical.
Call it spiritual; known to rituals.
I need this to call you my home.
I'm home.

--

I flow so deeply above this world, so dearly
that spins on it's axis,
never enough to make me sick
I pause and breathe and believe
this world is mine and my only
and beneath, in the sea, it was all foretold
as a big joke but I kid you not...

I flow so deeply above this world, so dearly...
___________________________________________________

my stony heart had frozen over in the cold; the cracks filling with snow.
spring came waltzing in with the heat and my cracks became nothing but pieces.
you had fluttered away amongst the flowers but I felt just as freely.

I would like...

my time back. Or perhaps my energy. That way I won't sleep like a sloppy sloth til noon. I should, in theory, wake up at around nine. That's sufficient time. I was so close to doing so this morning and then I rolled on my side and back to sleep. I guess, money IS the motivator and for now I have none.

For now. Next week is a different animal.

But there I go again, leaving things for other said moments.

Waltzing

Like that Radiohead song,

"you reel me out and then you cut the string".

So, what's your deal? Do you genuinely care for my well being? I cared for yours and you decided a cold shoulder was nicer than help. That's cool. We all make mistakes. I told you about the one you were going to make. I wonder if you've noticed?

Probably.

But I still care. So much more than I should be. It's not something I think about constantly but it reminds me at certain moments of the day. I am reminded that I thought I was with a lovely person. I just allowed myself to be vulnerable and see things that aren't really there.

My mind loves to gild them. Because I always deserve more than what's given to me and I'm not trying to be selfish.

Could it be that we ALL do that? Once someone is given to us, feelings and all, is it possible that we make it seem better than anything else? Come to think of it, it might be human nature.

I'll get back to you on that.


p.s. I think he does care.

fragments of thoughts

Her snores sound
like his mumbles from
a far.

-----------------------------

Copper,
scare me away
like the star
does.

-----------------------------

they'll come
might they linger?
they tease
will they hither?
then "poof"
ay! they came
but they went
and left nine lines
with letters.

Dear Unpopped Kernels,

I apologize that the standard microwave cooking time has not allowed you to grow to your full potential. You will never be graceful little yellow flowers.

Sincerely,

Me

they say...

It takes about 21 days for something to become completely registered in the mind and form a habit.

I've got a long way to go. So many things that I would love to just DO on the daily without having to drag myself into it.

For instance, jogging. Now, I would do this every afternoon but cut me some slack and in a day or two I'm doomed. No turning back and now rarely will you see my increasingly large ass at the park. To read every night before going to bed. It doesn't even take much effort, granted, I don't do it.

What I'm trying to get at, is this. I want to do this everyday. If it'd be a lame recap of my even lamer day or if it'd be just a piece.

Five minutes of cold fingers... and there goes my inspiration.

Dreams.

Now, to my knowledge, I don’t dream often. More so, I usually don’t remember them. Last night (or this morning?), I dreamt weird, strange things…

I was coming home from Nura’s house except I was running back home. I took my usual route but there, in the side of the street, where these monkey bars and like, jungle gyms. I jumped above the bars and climbed and ran across. To my disgust, there were spider webs all over the place but I’d just brush them off. It was bizarre.

Even stranger, was the rest of my dream, where I was intimately cuddling with one of my friends and then again, BOOM! I get up and start running around like Tarzan.

Ha! Who gets these things? I mean, dreams are internal thoughts, things you’ve seen throughout the day, just manifested when you’re in deep REM sleep, in a more fantastical manner.

There was this one time, where I was walking through a beautiful but damp meadow. I was in my own body, looking down at my feet when I noticed I was walking on blood. Blood! And there was this amazing color contrast between the greens and the red blood and my skin. Now, grass is symbol of success and prosperity, whereas, blood, can range within life, conflict and war. As to my bare feet, they imply a difficulty needed to be overcome. Go figure, how these things work. I only thought then: “How funny, love is a battlefield.”

“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”

Giving it a go.

Some time ago, I wrote a piece.

Some time after that, I went back to the piece to elaborated. I asked a good friend of mine for an opinion and she said:

“It’s really nice, but what’s it about? Who is this written to?”

No one, really. It was just a cluster of thought? It made sense in my mind’s eye, it didn’t really matter if I had gone through those fictional experiences. The emotion conveyed within and out, had been real to me, almost raw. Today, that piece took a certain turn and means something different to me. It was like a foreseeing the future! It was bound to happen.

So, he carries around all this weight, crap-filled luggage and expects me to not be upset once I open it up. Strange how irrelevant it always is but life has a funny way of tying things together with a nice, big bow. I can’t wait for you. I’m sorry, I just can’t.

So, this morning, after some arguments and sniffles, I called my bestfriend to the rescue.

“I’m not heartbroken. I’m just upset, mad... furious! He’s just so stupid! He doesn’t want my help and that’s like a slap to the face.”

“It’s okay, you’ll be fine.”

“I know I’ll be fine. It just makes me sad.”

“What’s life without saddness?”

“What’s my saddness without life?”

Above it all, I can’t help but laugh at my first post here on Blogger, and laugh at that little reminder of the time next to its automatic commands of saving something so useless.