Thursday, December 29, 2011

I remembered.

I promised pictures, I promised return.
I promised I'd come back after concern,
but I still have lessons to learn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He couldn't have came. We knew after all
that tears were solid once sliding down
a waterfall. And I recall
several spreading like lakes that day.
I can't get away from that day.
I'd like to get away from that day.
I more so wish that you would have stayed.
They say one stays with memory
but every one seems such treachery
and we don't even speak of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It hurts, you know. I don't know
if you knew it would be that way
or if you knew anything about that day
but it hurts us that are stuck living
as if we were all still fully alive.
And I know I have absolutely
no right to tell you otherwise.
To say you were wrong
or to judge. Or condemn. Or even speak.
I barely knew you. I think that's it.
That's why it gets to me,
because I should have. Known, I mean.
Everyone else I know, knew.
Everyone else had seen you,
but you remained, and always shall,
be only the boy marching ahead,
on the trumpet, at the table,
or drawing clocks in Algebra class.
That's all. No rhymes. No fancy farewells.
No memoirs or sonnets or fond memories,
because I never give anyone
a chance.

I just wanted to say Happy Birthday.
I remembered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You would have been nineteen.
And this doesn't seem fair.

--Emily

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

a bunch of random pictures and stuff.

Great title, right? Right.

I had fun on Christmas Eve, in my new pajamas (tradition that my Mum insists on), jacket, and TOMS (both from my lovely boyfriend).

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I'm cute, I know.
Haha.
Those pajama pants have the Grinch on them, by the way.

And...here's a closeup of my shoes:

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Oh, I might as well do a great big photo dump, while I'm at it.

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I was in a Snow Patrol mood.
Tonight I'm in an Owl City mood.

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This is a picture of Venus, our dog that died a few years ago.
I miss her a lot. I keep her photo on my desk.

By the way, I just finished Tuesdays With Morrie. It was alright. Next stop, finishing my book of Emily Dickinson's poetry, possibly Fahrenheit 451, and then Little Women

Also, we got our family photo done. Well, I set up my tripod in my living room and had Deacon push the button. Eh. It's not as good as a professional picture, but it's quick, simple, and cheap.

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Left to Right: Karlee, Dad, Mum, Romeo, me

And well, just because I'm silly:

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Italy pictures are on their way!

I hope everyone enjoyed their Christmas.

--Emily

Friday, December 23, 2011

Ten Words

For my anniversary
on To Be Real,
I give poems.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is ground
and a sky. Why
must I choose?

~~~~~~~~~~~~


I don't know
your name or gender,
but I judge.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was thinking about
how well you know
my name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blow out those candles good,
she said.
I don't understand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

And I
sit here
completely
in awe
of the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Disappointment;
Embarrassment;
Complaining; Conflicted;
Jealousy;
words I use too often.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's okay
if you stay
the way
you've always been.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I do not expect
anything else
or less
from you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten poems of ten words
to celebrate 200
blog posts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

--[My name is Emily
and I suffer from severe
insomnia.]

It is that time.

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We finally got all the Christmas lights up.

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And I thought I'd try some bokeh, since it's all the rage this time of year.

But tonight
I roll about, I snuggle in
the sensation of
happiness.

--Emily

Thursday, December 22, 2011

I Don't Speak French.

I should caution you that there is a statue of the Venus de Milo in this post, to anyone who might be offended of seeing a topless statue.

Other than that, enjoy!
Day one in Paris. We took a little cruise on the river.
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The Eiffel Tower, while we were still on the boat. Did you know that it sparkles every hour?
Then we climbed the Eiffel Tower.
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Oh, Paris <3
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Looking up from underneath.
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I love this picture.
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I was really, really excited to see Notre Dame. Look how tiny the people are near the top!
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Just down from Notre Dame. I really liked this road.
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Winged Victory at the Louvre.
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Venus de Milo at the Louvre.
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Jenna at the Louvre.
She was being stubborn, but I liked the lighting.
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Statue outside of the Opera House.
We didn't get to go inside.
And it was raining. Eh.
I hope that everyone is enjoying their Christmas break. =)
I sure am, though I haven't found much time to read the past few days.
BUT! I am officially done Christmas shopping and gift wrapping. So, that's good.
I have to work the next three days, though. Eh.

Hope you enjoyed Paris. Next stop: Italy!

--Emily

Monday, December 19, 2011

Goodnight.

Nothing may compare to
the agony, the emptiness,
the superior feeling of wrong
that I feel when we
both say "goodnight."

It is not good; it is not right.
It is a placeholder
of mannerisms. For appearance sake.
It certainly, certainly
does not mark a well-received departure.

Friday, December 16, 2011

More of London

Well, I finished Flowers in the Attic. It was ... eh. I'm glad it's behind me. I think I've decided to read Tuesdays with Morrie next. Mitch Albom is one of my favorite authors, and his books are particularly powerful, but also easy to get through.

I figured I should post the rest of the pictures from London. Most of them are of me with some kind of reflective ball that was on the side walk while we were waiting for the rest of the group to meet us for lunch.

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Jenna!

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Time to go to Deacon's choir concert, which I'm hoping to have pictures of later!
=)

Merry (nearly!) Christmas. 

--Emily

Slaughterhouse.

My fingers tremble.
I do not know
what's been done. Or anything.
I do not know his name. His face.
I do not know his rightful place.
I can't decipher the temperature
of this room. It's hot, but I--
I shiver with numbness all about.
My throat is caught. 
And tell me why
should one not have a right to say
that they are still so miserable?
I find words are fought with knives
and feelings feared by passersby.

I do not do. It will not do.
Bored, bored, bored.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

They've made a statue. Hallowed ground.
With eyes that burn and prowl and sound
all at once, infinitely.
But dear, I cannot go separately.
I whine; they beg; and so we stand
on feet frozen to summer land
and offer sacrifices of colored air
with tails and trails of parties, fairs,
because that's all that we can bear.
The year rolls 'round once again
and all will say that it has been
good and fast. They're ready for
a fresh start. Sure, a little more
sun and shine and  feeling back
where numbness has been on attack.

I'll tell you something, since you are
determined to make it at least this far.
It will not stay. The new year comes
and goes, like people, with quiet drums.

I heard a whimper. I'm sorry that
innocence has a way of
not coming back.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

I go back to London all the time...

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Well, I'm done re-editing the few pictures from London that I felt needed a little attention. There are quite a few, so I'll just post some of them now and the rest later. I'm now on the pictures from Paris, and then on to Italy! It's a great way to spend my (almost) Christmas break.

Speaking of Christmas break, I need to formulate a list of things I want to read. Right now my goal is to finish Flowers in the Attic by the end of the week, which should be alright because right now I'm 80% done with it, and yesterday morning I was only 63%. Yeah!

[[I would just like to point out that I'm eating a very, very good orange at the moment.]]

Anyway, here are some pictures of London. I wish I could go back there. It was so great.

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Also, for some reason I have this song stuck in my head. I guess it's because it's December.
I'm not usually a big Taylor Swift advocate, and I remember listening to this song a few months ago and not liking it, but I heard it last night at work and something just stuck.


Merry (nearly) Christmas!

--Emily

The Agonies of Death and Bathrooms

The water drips constantly
from the faucet, awfully.
Appliances remain pouring heat
that stifles my pores in utter defeat.
A hairbrush rests near the sink
with hair, like snakes, in a link
that is fresh from when I used it last.
That morning seems far in the past,
but there it rests. My DNA--
perpetual, despite my passing day.
And here I am, still confined
by walls and windows so designed
to keep things out and lock us in
even without my wilted skin.
I am so stifled by heat and rooms
too small for lives and living tombs.

I need an air vent in here--quick!
Maybe it can suck out my soul.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Oh no!!

I completely missed my 1 year anniversary on To Be Real! It was on December 7th.

And I don't have any particular way to celebrate this magnificence, either. Hmph!
Well, I guess I'll just say, I'm glad I made the choice to start this blog. It has been nothing but therapeutic and has helped in improving my photography and poetry both. =)

I'm looking forward to many, many more years.

--Emily

Exams and Planes

It's Finals Week! Two down, two to go. 

One is just a PowerPoint, so really just one to go.

However, the one today was awful. Our teacher, whom I have loved up until the point, reviewed the exam with us on Wednesday. It was supposed to be 25 questions, 50 points total, all multiple choice. Only over two things we have studied this year: The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams and the movie The Heiress, based on the novel Washington  Square by Henry James.

Well, apparently our teacher was contemplating the test last night and decided that it was "too easy." So instead of the first 15 questions being multiple choice, she changed it to fill in the blank/short answer. She emailed the class this morning, however the final was at 10 AM and many of the students said that they checked their emails that morning and had not received anything. 

Ugh! I had a 94% in that class, and I know I got some answers wrong on that test. I mean, I don't remember the name of the dance hall across the street from their apartment in The Glass Menagerie! Seriously, my final grade in the class depends on that

On a lighter note, I have begun re-editing some of my Europe pictures. I've been wanting to do this for some time now. I've only posted a few from Paris so far, but I visited other places, too. =)

Here's a shot from the plan ride over, at sunset:


It was one of the most beautiful sights I've ever witnessed.

Merry (almost) Christmas, everyone.

--Emily

Sunday, December 11, 2011

a slight discovery.

What I like best, or at least quite a bit, is going back through my posts and reading something that I really like, especially when I don't remember writing it. It's like flipping through a poetry book and being struck by something unexpected. I wrote this on July 4th, 2011, in a post celebrating my 100th blog post on To Be Real, as well as celebrating my 5th year of blogging altogether. It was also titled Apologies, and had just a lot of good stuff packed into it.

I wish I could dish out good writing like this on the spot these days. I hate how it goes it waves.
Anyway, in case you missed this, like I seemed to, I'm putting it down again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I keep seeing ideas--thoughts materialize--
and certain substances that tear through reality
and scream through the night. 
Is this how chaos feels? Instability?
Insecurity--my one downfall, always.
But I might make promises within my youth,
and be blessed from there on until
I realize the margins of such a gift, and requirements,
and the laws of physics start to adjust accordingly.
But otherwise, before I had known, my mind
would have been able to take to the stars
and touch the mist; the clouds; the air.
I stood in awe of lightning tonight,
and decided that God is real. He's real.
He's real. He's real. And such assurance
is enough to capture me completely--
it's enough for me to put my faith first
and pray to God, Please hold my hand!
There we'll stand--hand in hand--
safer than home and words and rain.
Safer than I had ever known before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Also, I'm in a Christmas drama tomorrow and I'm starting to get a bit nervous about it, so just pray that all goes well. Lovies.


--Emily

Saturday, December 10, 2011

How I Measure Time

My life has a way of measuring
itself through experiences.
Seconds and minutes--what of those?
Too constructed; too formal;
too impersonal.

I measure the minutes by the length of a laugh;
the year by what grade I was in.
Seconds by thoughts and soft footsteps;
and the hour by everything else.

So when I realized today that it had been
a year and three months since your departure,
my soul dropped cold. I know that time
well. I'm the master of that particular one.
For both of my relationships have fallen
short of reaching that destination.
Still, that time marks quite a span
for me. And I can't imagine
that it has been so long.

I had almost gotten over it throughout the day,
but as I was driving home at night,
it struck me. The difference. The horrid truth:
that my failed relationships had a set time span
but that you--yours will never end.
It will always be, "This is how long
that he has been gone." You will not return.
I'll never be able to measure something
by the length of time that you were gone.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Some Christmas Cheer

My new laptop is here, up, and running smoothly. =)
And I really like Straight No Chaser, particularly their version of "The 12 Days of Christmas" and "Carol of the Bells."

Ah yes, I always forget how much I love this time of year.

Monday, December 5, 2011

What I really shouldn't have to say.

I tend to go too far.
And I'm looking for...I'm looking for...
inspiration
a reason to give myself credit
doubt.

[Indecisiveness;
noun. not decisive or conclusive.]

I will not. I will not.
I will not let you in.
I will not tell myself
that you win. You win.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Listen, I remember you
when we first met. I was jealous.
You had no power;
you had life. You had love.
But not mine.
You'd
never
have
mine.

I would make sure of that.

But it happened, of course.
Slowly. But it did.
Inevitably. Reluctantly.
He was always yours,
of course.
He never belonged to me.

And I was jealous.

And over the years, I've determined
that I got the better end of the deal.
I hope that's okay.

I still look up to you.
To all you do.
And I know I go too far,
and I know that I shouldn't be
jealous.

But I am.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

--Emily

Sunday, December 4, 2011

An average day at home.

Life and times of my humble abode...
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Featuring Deacon:
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Isn't he handsome? =)

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Kevin:
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The cutest baby you've ever seen:
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Nature:
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and myself, with my new hair color:
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Old.

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New.

Some of these are pretty old and have been sitting on my camera forever. I had some extra time on my hands tonight so I figured I'd play around a little.

--Emily

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Coming Back

I cannot determine the distinct day
that she grew, but somehow
it wedged itself in.
I remember us, hand in hand,
and we considered ourselves
mature. Adults. Already there.
We weren't, of course. We were
far off from the destination point.
But now, I see she's certainly
changed the way she acts and thinks.
And my, it does fit her well.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

My Carpet, My Witness

I've seen this carpet new and worn.
I've lived through its existence.
And it's seen me--it knows my feet
as well as anyone else.

We have an agreement on bare feet.
It's gentle on us both.
I work a lot, so does he,
so we value this companionship.

We first met when my husband and I
were newlyweds. I swear,
the carpet knew us well.

Then our child. Timothy.
And all of his crawls and cars.
Sticky hands. Outstretched arms.
Muddy shoes and bottles.

He grew. I grew. My husband, too.
Became closer to the door
and me to the vacuum cleaner.

And upon his return,
I was closer to the floor.

Stains of red. Washed away.
My carpet never complained.
I liked it better than the wall
which insisted on leaving marks.

I'm sorry my skin is not the same.
I'm sorry my skin owns these flaws.
I'm sorry I could not dodge the walls.
I'm sorry that these bruises came.

Years and tears have passed away
and late into the night
sometimes I come crawl onto the floor
and cling with my fragile clutch.

I want to stay curled up here,
because God, I can't stand the world.