Saturday, March 31, 2012



And I tell you, this is why:
I have nobody to share this mind
with. She's off finding herself
in the dry air and corporate commands.
I cannot keep it in, this
something that is only myself's something.
My forearm unfolds, extends as far
as it can stretch, my fingers spread
in desperate desire to brush by
an inch of skin. Then dig deep in
and create some sort of irrevocable bond.
It's so lonely--solitude,
blindly waiting for the fish to bite.


Thursday, March 29, 2012

Black Friday


It is morning.
The sky is black.
It is mourning.
The sky is black.

He was killed last night.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Trip to the Arch


During Spring Break, Deacon, Dylan, Laurissa (Dylan's girlfriend), and myself all took a trip up to St. Louis to go to the arch. I had never been inside of it before. It was pretty uneventful, really...except for the technical difficulties we had while trying to go back on the elevator thing from the top. The pictures turned out better than I thought, though. Even if a lot of them look exactly the same.


Spotted from the top of the arch.




This one is probably my favorite.





They're so cute.

We had a lot of fun. =)

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Daily Words: Week 12

Day 78.
The word is?...

of or pertaining to spring
belonging to a characteristic of youth

Found: online. No luck finding one by chance today.


Day 79.
The word is...

injurious to health

Found: while writing a poem this week, "Kill Switch."
It rhymed with "serious," and seemed to fit well, though I have a really hard time pronouncing it right.


Day 80. Whoohoo!!
We're getting there. The word is...

[ri-nig, -neg, -neeg] 
to go back on one's words
in cards, to play a suit that does not follow one it is supposed to; break a rule of play
-also, with object-
to deny or renounce

Found: online, while searching for a word for today.


Day 81.
The word is...

[hyoo-bris, hoo-]
excessive pride or self-confidence; arrogance.

Found: while watching Grey's Anatomy, season five.

alternate spelling: hybris


Day 82!!
The word is...

not clear or transparent because of stirred-up sediment or the like; clouded

Found: in the poem "Dover Beach" by Matthew Arnold.


Day 83.
The word is...

any evergreen or deciduous shrub or tree belonging to the genus Rhododendron,
rounded clusters of showy, pink, purple, or white flowers and oval or oblong leaves.

Found: chapter two of Atonement by Ian McEwan


Day 84.
The word is....

lacking flavor; bland
lacking vigor or interest

Found: in a reading from my Creative Nonfiction class


I know I'm late at posting this, I apologize.


Pardon me, my once ago,
but I now think that I have won
the invisible raging war between
our bloody battlefields. She
has shared my words in exciting lines
while casting you off like a parasite.
Sound the bells--we've conquered all!
We've captured and extracted that lovely face.
We've ran the course--finished the race
and stampeded the counterpart underfoot,
left him drowning in the dust,
and carried the lady with her words
like a baton across the finish line.
You once took aim at me and hit
your mark with fine dexterity.
My wounds still show--sunlight passes
through holes in my chest and abdomen,
and at one time, I might have fallen,
but now I run with you behind--
your pride and joy clutching my shirt.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Memoir // A Mirror for my Egoism

My friend Jimmy posted this entry a little while ago. It's a memoir that we were assigned to write for Creative Nonfiction, and I have been meaning to post mine, too.

My memoir is a little bit...well, it's definitely personal. My goal was to highlight a specific time in my life that changed me, while creating an atmosphere of vulnerability, and keeping it as close to the truth as possible. I hope you like it.

A Mirror for my Egoism
October 18, 2006
“I cannot believe that you would do that,” the voice rang in my ear. “Are you that selfish?”
The question echoed through the receiver. It struck me; I had expected compassion from him, or at very least reassurance that I had no reason to be in this position. I had expected him to list the things I had to live for. I had expected him to tell me how much he would miss me if I were gone.
            Instead, my friend stood at the other end of the phone call, telling me that I was selfish. After the initial surprise, I became offended. Was he trying to make me feel even worse? I called him for support and in return I was being condemned for my actions.
            I then considered my surroundings. Somehow, I had found myself entirely alone in my house—where my parents and sister were, I cannot recall—during a dark October night. The weather outside was raging against my house, much like my thoughts were raging against myself. As a result to some forgotten events, I had exhausted all ideas of hope and optimism, leaving me in utter desperation to end my life.
            My feet had led my body with fierce footsteps into our kitchen and drawn a long knife from its safely stored location on the counter. I turned around and leaned my back against the kitchen sink and slowly lifted the knife, blade facing towards me, and let it rest above my heart. Both of my hands were wrapped around the handle, not quite forcing the blade down, but letting my body feel its presence. My head flew back and I began to cry. This was impossible.
            I sank in defeat down the side of the counter and folded myself on the floor, sobs escaping my throat, knife still attached to my right hand. I turned my left arm over, palm up, in order to expose the underside of my wrist. My right hand, holding the blade, moved slowly to my wrist, setting the blade there.
            I didn’t want to take action—I was much too cowardly to make permanent decisions—but I so fearfully needed to feel a release of everything brewing within. I dared myself to slide the thin blade along my arm and split open the tangle of veins, to manifest the pain inside me with one I could physically handle. A transition.
            I decided that I needed help beyond what I could give myself, so I dug for the phone in my pocket. Phone in hand, I dialed the number of Jenna, my best friend. No answer. I thought a moment, and then called Adam, another close friend of mine. Again, I’m not sure of the driving notion behind this action, but now it seems inevitable. Of course it would be Adam to soothe my raving thoughts. There was no one else.
            Upon his answer, I frantically explained my situation to him, longing for comfort.
            “Your stress is an illusion,” he said, with words far wiser than my own were at fourteen, “just release and breathe in. And never do anything as stupid as to violate yourself.” This he said forcefully, making tears of shame slide down my cheeks.
            A silent moment passed, and then in words like a whisper, he concluded, “I cannot believe that you would do that. Are you that selfish?”
There are moments for me, and I assume everyone, that stand out in my life. Small or large, some of these moments seem to be interconnected in such a mysterious and intricate way it is as though they were written to be a plotline to a story. It’s only afterwards that I am able to piece these moments together. Looking back, it’s as if these events were always planning to happen; they were always lurking in the shadows, waiting for the exact moment to reveal their faces. I don’t know why I never noticed them sooner. I should have smelled them in the air.
            It might seem laughable now—a teenage girl so overwhelmed with “despair” that she wanted to inflict pain upon herself. Normal, even. Typical teenagers are known for constant struggles to find their place, often suffering through angst and depression along the way. The causes of this, in the eyes of an adult, might seem trivial—if they exist at all. The teenagers get past it though, much like one slowly recovers over the miserable effects of the common cold. They pull through the initial anxiety. They’re supposed to, anyway.
            The truth that I learned that night is that even if one’s suffering seems naïve, the pain is real. Everyone, regardless of age or social standing, regardless of the magnitude of reason compared to another, can feel the deep, tangible stab of pain.
            I also learned that I was selfish.
            I eventually got through the pain, but not the selfishness.

*          *          *

Three years passed and my life remained pretty stagnant, with the occasional boyfriend, breakup, and friendship drama. I became a born-again Christian, yet the work toward improving myself had not yet taken effect. Weeks before my senior year of high school began, I became fast friends with a quiet boy who lived down the street, Derek Johnson. He was a sophomore with a crush on me, which I took advantage of because he had a driver’s license and I did not. Eventually, as teenagers do, our desires switched—he started talking about other girls and I started thinking of nothing but him.

*          *          *

September 8, 2010     
August went swiftly and September swept itself upon us, which for me meant marching band season. My day started on the frigid, dew-covered football field, clarinet in hand, at 7:00 AM sharp, plotting points and marching heel-to-toe between them back and forth, back and forth.
We were rehearsing our opener, “Separate Ways” by Journey. It was short, fast-paced, and required me to move much faster than my feet preferred. Adam, a particularly whimsical conductor, was our typical drum major for this song, but he had been out of school with mononucleosis for the past couple of days.
The band moved into a block around measure 30 of the song, with me being the lucky one at the end of the row. To be certain that our row was correctly aligned, I always had to guide to the trumpet in front of me, Jason Winters. He was Adam’s best friend and the band’s best marcher.
First hour ended and we lined up and trooped back inside to the drum line’s cadence.  Inside, a bit damp from sweat and feeling like I just ran across town, I changed my shoes and started gathering up books for my next class, which was at the community college, MAC, about ten minutes away. I went to my assigned chair to grab my backpack and found Jason there with his girlfriend, a fellow clarinet player. As the bell rang, one of them made a joke and I saw Jason smile before they both departed through the door. I followed them, went out through the exit, and drove to my next class.
After my MAC classes, I drove back to the high school for the last three remaining hours of my school day. I slipped silently into Public Speaking after waiting patiently outside the door for the speaker to finish. They were used to me being late, but every head turned my way regardless. The next hour, I designed a spread for the yearbook. Finally, my day ended with making hundreds of copies of Daily Grammar worksheets and doodling in my notebook during cadet teaching. This was all very typical.
The final bell rang for the day and although it was completely opposite of where I parked my car, I headed towards the band room. I did this every day in hopes to catch a glimpse of Derek, who had choir in the music hallway as his last class.
I moved rapidly and seamlessly through the hallways; four years of high school had made me an expert of weaving in and out of the traffic of my peers. I took a shortcut through the practice gym and passed Jason, who had just joined choir that same year. We did not stop to exchange words; we simply passed and went our separate ways, treading to the beat of fading footsteps that echoed within the vast, empty room between us.
It was the last time I ever saw him.
I saw the words later that night while I sat on my bedroom floor with Jenna. We had just gotten back from Wednesday night church and were chatting away about friends, homework, and college. I was nonchalantly surfing Facebook when I saw a post by a fellow classmate, a single line: RIP Jason Winters.
“That can’t be right,” I calmly assured Jenna. “I just saw him today.”
            Looking back, I think I said these words to convince myself more than Jenna. Inside, my mind went into a psychotic frenzy. A trick, a game, a prank. Hopefully. Not suicide. Please, God, not suicide.
            I picked up my cell phone and dialed Derek’s number first, fingers trembling as I held the phone against my ear. He never answered. The phone slipped out of my hand to the carpeted floor. I glanced at Jenna without a word, lifted the phone again, and decided to call Adam. I did not expect an answer, but he picked up after a few rings. Sobs were trapped in his voice.
            My throat suddenly caught. A moment passed and I physically could not conjure words.
            “Is it true?” I finally spat out. After the words formed, it was clear that I had not called to console my clearly upset friend, but to use him like an internet search engine. I was not interested in offering compassion; I was demanding information.  
As I waited nervously for a reply, my heart pounded hard against my chest. Time hung suspended somewhere overhead.
            It was true. I knew this before he even answered.

*          *          *

The next day, week, month of my life afterwards seemed to be set on fast-forward. I went to class like usual the next morning; I attended the funeral the next Monday; I got together with my friends at various hang-out sights. I did what was expected of me. I did what I could handle.
All I really wanted to do was be with Derek, of course. He seemed like the one friend that I could talk to and rely on. I never thought about anyone else needing me, only about who I wanted to be around. I thought that this was justified in my current state. I know now that it wasn’t.
After the funeral, though, Derek had taken a particular interest in another girl, Rian, who happened to be the band’s second drum major. He had spent the majority of that day by her side, to my disgust. Wherever she sat, he was close by. If she left the room, he followed. I was left to sit in the corner on a floral patterned sofa, nibbling away at cold pizza that failed to fill my hollow stomach. Afterwards, he talked of no one else.
Months began to pass by, and despite his great efforts, she did not return Derek’s affection.
“It’s not even that she doesn’t want to date me,” he confided in me one December day, “it’s that she doesn’t even try to maintain a friendship. She’ll make plans, then cancel them every time.”
During conversations like this, I learned to listen and silence the raging anger that swelled inside me, like an active volcano threatening to erupt at the slightest shift in atmosphere. Weeks went by and he became more and more depressed. In turn, I clung to him more deeply through this, not for his better interests, but on the chance that he would move on from Rian and notice me.

*          *          *

January 3, 2011
I want to die. These words are sent to me while texting Derek one night during Christmas break. My pulse doubled instantly. It was, at that time, four months since Jason had been gone, and I knew at that moment how absolute and certain pain and corresponding actions were. I wanted to shrug it off, take it lightly, maybe even make a joke out of it to break the tension, but deep inside I knew that it was serious.
Even if I thought he had no reason, even if I sat in the comfort of my bedroom and could easily delete the message and pretend it was never sent, even if I knew he had hundreds of people who cared for him, I knew that he was serious and I had responsibility bestowed upon me then and there to bring him out of that kind of thought process.
Right then, I was back on my kitchen floor with a phone in one hand and a knife in the other. I heard Adam’s words rage against my ears and echo through my words.
That is the most selfish thing you could ever do, I typed frantically. Even if you don’t realize it, there are people who love you and are here for you. By this, of course, I meant myself. I looked the text over and pressed the send button.
A few seconds later, he replied, I don’t feel like people care. Nobody has shown signs of it. I’m not going to kill myself, I just don’t see the point in living.
At that exact instant, there was a shift inside of me.
I knew that it was up to me. Not in hopes that he would date me someday, but because he had no one else.
He loved another girl—that wasn’t going to change, nor was that relevant to my decision. I had to force myself to accept it. If she wasn’t going to reach out and make sure he made it through the day, then it was up to me. Right then, I decided that I would do anything for him, regardless if that meant swallowing my pride and talking to him about another girl. No matter what, I would not allow him to give up on his life.
So I brought him to church with me, which he gradually became more comfortable with. I stopped by his house on a daily basis—spontaneously, of course, which is acceptable if two friends live on the same street. On the nights when I had to work, I snuck him free breadsticks on my way home. When he went out to drive around and listen to sad music, I went with him. When he cried over Jason, I was beside him, crying too. When he was angry with Rian, I listened to the rant and tried to tell him what he should do. I tried my best to be his support, which was the first time I had ever really put my own feelings aside and done something solely for another.
            That’s not to say there wasn’t gain, however. After a few months, we became very close, even best friends. His infatuation with Rian slowly dissipated and we both began to come to terms with the loss of Jason. Derek returned my friendship with his own once his depression began to cease, which was saturated with loyalty and selflessness.

I learned that I am selfish and that selfishness is one of the worst crimes one can commit against his loved ones, as well as himself. I also learned that there are ways to overcome it, and this in turn may lead to blessings that were before unimaginable.
            Pain is real, no matter what circumstance one is at in life. Taking one’s life, however, is the easy way out. Living is harder, especially when faced with nothing to hope on. Hope exists, though—that I am sure of. It always lies somewhere, waiting just down the street.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

My Almost-Villanelle

I started this poem the week before spring break while taking notes in American Political Systems. I was trying to write a villanelle, because I had just taken my poetry test and everything. This is not a villanelle--there is no set meter, and my rhyme scheme turns into bba when it should be aba. I could probably fix it if I had the desire, but I kind of like it the way it is. As an almost-villanelle.

I guess not horrible for my first attempt at writing one.

Shovel in hand, he dug a round hole
and as the sun set, with his head bent,
he lowered himself in search of his soul.

He looked overhead as the stars went
wrapped in the sky around soil, bent
in a circumference much like a hand-dug hole.

So awesome in midst of constellations leant
to a man taming land, though he was bent
on taming his sin and forsaking his soul.

In the midst of a galaxy, he made not a dent.
Realizing this, his shoulders fell, bent
as an inferior man, sunk in a hole.

A tear leaked through, as though it was meant
to quench his deep thirst, spirit still bent
on searching the heavens to find his lost soul.

And the stars came down to kiss him, bent
low enough to whisper that they gave consent
to leave his dead body and climb from the hole
for he, at long last, had discovered his soul.


Monday, March 19, 2012

Kill Switch

I think I might have to kill
all traces of your memory.
There, then, I'll find the skill
to inhale, ex- more evenly.
Those summer days were spent upon
dried dirt and weeds; together, watched
the clouds stroll by and then move on
with hello, goodbye in silence; caught
fireflies and built holding cells
inside our hearts. And now, I will
be forced to silence their yellow bells.
Yes, it seems I will have to kill
those bugs and withering weeds. The clouds
will pour and quench my old, whole heart--
the way it was before its shroud--
the cunning choices of my love, smart
enough for double standards. But now,
looking upon you in the aftermath,
I see not fresh skin, nor noble brow,
but how instead you will face the wrath
of an extermination. Sweep the files
through and through. Without a note
to check "Yes or No," or multiple trials.
I have my fingers around the throat
of a scissor-slaying betraying fiend,
with nails dug in. This time, it's serious.
My memory's database is successfully screened,
I am on board. And you, deleterious,
will no longer harm me. I've intervened.

Daily Words: Week 11

Day 71. Hehe.
The word is...

wishing evil or harm to another or others; showing ill will; ill-disposed; malicious.

Found: in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.


Day 72. 
The word is...
to act together through a secret understanding, especially with evil or harmful intent; conspire in a fraud

Found: in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, chapter Fifteen.


Day 73.
The word is...

[pawrt-man-toh, pohrt-; pawrt-man-toh,pohrt-]
a word made of two combined words, generally both sounds and meanings
(as in smog from smoke and fog)
a large travelling bag

Found: on OMG-Facts. It is the kind of words used in Lewis Carroll's "Jabberwocky."


Day 74.
The word is...

[too-muhlt, tyoo-]
violent and noisy commotion or disturbance of a crowd or mob; uproar
highly distressing mental or emotional disturbance

Found: in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, chapter sixteen.


Day 75.
The word is....

characterized by excessive piousness or moralistic fervor, especially in an affected manner; excessively smooth, suave, or smug
having an oily or soapy feel

Found: in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, chapter seventeen.


Day 76.
The word is...

[ig-zas-er-beyt, ek-sas-]
to increase the severity, bitterness, or violence of; aggravate

Found: in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, chapter Eighteen


Day 77.
The word is...

noun. or verb.

a long, passionate, and vehement speech, especially one delivered before a public gathering.
to address in an angry or forcefully persuasive way

Found: while watching Grey's Anatomy with Deacon, season 5.


Good words this week. =)


Foolish Consistency

"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds."
--Ralph Waldo Emerson

I just finished writing a "short essay" for my American Lit Mid-Term over this quote.


I wrote this while in church today, because I'm trying to come out of my bad case of writer's block, which means writing even if I don't have much to say, even if what comes out is horrible.

Also, I may like Mumford and Sons. Don't make a big deal out of it. Haha.


My pulse quickens—beats, not in
a constant quarter note rhythm,
but in eights. Fluttering
along with the piano keys. The choir
in sync, though their eyes upon me
instead of a heavenly father. Gazes
and glances like laser beams.
I am not my own, they sing
as they shoot holes through me.
I chip off and fall to dust, although,
they did warn: to dust you will return.
My suspicion, confirmed. I am not one
of holiness. I never should have come,
for I am an outcast among the saints.


My mum's computer has a virus, which means I may or may not have lost all of my pictures from 2010 and 2011, besides Europe and the few I have saved on my jumpdrive.

I'm trying not to be too upset about this, but it is extremely hard.
I've decided to invest in an external hard drive to make sure I'm never in this situation again.


Before it crashed, I was able to save this picture from long ago. Then I re-edited it. =)

School starts again tomorrow. 
Have a great week!


Friday, March 16, 2012

Leaving the Nest

Oh, my home. My home is where
you are; my heart. It is where
my footsteps grew, I fell apart,
both young and old. Tender and new,
I stood with the door hanging ajar.
I stood and breathed in the outside air,
I stood and was engulfed with sky and sun
and an atmosphere that sounded my soul;
my very soul rang within every tendon. Was I
destined to live among such rich landscape?
Has anyone ever been that blessed?
Such a large world ready for me,
my adolescent eyes could not see it all
at once. I could not see beyond my doorstep.
But one day, not so far from here,
I'll be out there. And yes, I will enjoy it.
Maybe one day I will become so accustomed
to enjoying sweet grass or city streets
that I won't want to come back to my heart.
My rigid, contorted, old-fashioned heart.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

STOMP -- Talent Show

Hey, I found this video floating around online and I thought I would share it. It's of a performance during the talent show my Senior year of high school--four of my friends from band decided to do a STOMP routine. They put it all together themselves, including the arrangement, lights, costumes, and music.

I'm pretty sure my boyfriend is the one with the black tie.
And you might see me a few times, taking pictures for the yearbook.

This was filmed by my friend Rian, I believe.


Tuesday, March 13, 2012


"Better himself than all of us."
Oh, how cordial for him to hush
one mouth rather than an innocent mass.
The only loss here is in the band's brass.
Indeed, how selfless to take his life
neatly, by rope instead of by knife.
Silently, swift--no outcry or rush;
no scream escapes from a hanging hush.
And peaceful! he sways in a gentle beat
vacant and resting in a constant repeat.
"He got what he wanted, you know, after all,"
Of course! His dream: to be a rag doll.
His whole life served under this modest act,
no doubt he already realized that fact,
and predicted his own hand would always betray
the prior effort of life before judgement day.
What a funeral this is--so uplifting, it seems,
that a death of a friend becomes what he dreams
and the spectators delight that he is now better
off forfeiting life than embracing a debtor.
He did it so well--that is to say
that taking a life is an art, by the way.
Funerals, I've learned, are not for goodbye,
but instead for the living to hang a loud sigh.

Monday, March 12, 2012

Daily Words: Week 10

Day 64. Gettin' up there.
The word is...

a false and malicious statement designed to injure the reputation of someone or something; slander

Found: on a handout given to us during church today.


Day 65. 
The word is...

[rahy-uhnt, ree-; Fr. ryahn]
laughing; smiling; cheerful; gay

Found: while searing around online.
It was the winning word of a spelling bee.


Day 66. Dum dum dummmm.
The word is...

any disorder or disease of the body, especially one that is chronic or deepseated
any undesirable or disordered condition

Found: in "The Fall of the House of Usher" by Poe


Day 67.
The word is...

crying out noisily; clamorous.
(such as a mob)

Found: in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, chapter 9


Day 68. 
The word is...

of or believing in the total rejection of established laws and institutions

Found: on the back of a book, We Need to Talk About Kevin.


Day 69. 
The word is...

to give notice to; inform; advise (often followed by of )

Found: in an episode of Grey's Anatomy.


Day 70!! 
The word is...

animated; vivacious
 witty; brilliantly clever

Found: in an episode of Grey's Anatomy.



Saturday, March 10, 2012

Hello, Hello

Spring Break has officially begun! And I have nothing to share with you at this present time, but I would just like to say hello! I've missed writing this week a lot. I seriously had no time whatsoever, though. I even had to do homework before the night it was due so that I could get everything done. Crazy, I know.

I took two tests yesterday: General Biology and Poetry & the Human Experience.
I just looked up my grade and I got a 100% on the Poetry test, but I won't know about Biology for awhile.

My memoir is complete, it landed just on 9 pages after making several adjustments from my rough draft. I have every intention of sharing it, but I might wait until after I have it back fully graded.

I tried to write a poem yesterday, a villanelle, but it did not turn out very well and is not complete. I might work on that later and share it. If not, I'll try to write something else today, but I'm also going to try to finish reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and if you have never seen the books, they're huge. But they're totally worth reading, I assure you.

Alright everybody. Have a great weekend!


Monday, March 5, 2012

Daily Words: Week 9

Day 57! Whoo!
The word is...

(ˈjɪt ə n)
adjective. dialect (Northern English)

Found: online, randomly. I feel like it's cheating every time I have to do this.
But it was a cool one.


Day...58. Cool.
The word is...

the source of strength or power
another word for tendon or muscle

Found: in Emerson's "Self-Reliance"


Day 59!!
The word is...

[ee-kwuh-nok-shuhl, ek-wuh-]
pertaining to an equinox, or the equality of day and night.

Found: in the poem "Sestina" by Elizabeth Bishop.
Which is a pretty cool poem, but "One Art" by her is fabulous.


Day 60. PS! It's Leap Day.
The word is....

incapable of being investigated, analyzed, or scrutinized; impenetrable

Found: also in "Sestina" by Elizabeth Bishop.


Day 61. March begins.
The word is...

to make or use gestures, especially in an animated or excited manner with or instead of speech.

Found: in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, chapter 8.


Day 62.
The word is...

harsh or disorderly

Found: in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, chapter 9.
I find this word to be similar to ruckus, except it's an adjective.


Day 63. 
The word is...

pertaining to or being a deductive logical system, as Boolean algebra,  used to represent symbolically the relationships between sets, classes, and other entities.

Found: mentioned by Deacon, kind of randomly.



Sunday, March 4, 2012

My Upcoming Absence

Just so you know, I won't be writing much this week. Mid-terms = 3 tests to study for, 3 papers to write, among other assignments.

BUT! One of those papers is a 6-10 page memoir, and if all turns out well, I'll share it with y'all.

Also, I think I was abducted by aliens two nights ago. When I was about to take a shower that morning, I found a large cut across my right leg, with dried blood and torn skin and everything. It didn't really hurt, but it looked like it had been done at least within 24 hours of me finding it. It was strange.

Today I noticed a little bit of bruising around it. Freaky!!

(It's really not that big of a deal. Aliens just creep me out.)

Anyway, try not to miss me much this week, and keep my busy college life in your prayers, please. =)


Thursday, March 1, 2012

My Subconscious While in an American Political Systems class.

Life, liberty
governs this.

Pros and cons
choices, vices.
Cost of living
Rising prices

A free nation
Killing, filling
cells and stations

Fetus. Money
Wire hanger
Danger, Danger

Driving, sixteen
Freedom ride
Stripping limits
Car crash. Died.

Firing squad
Sunny Skies
"Line 'em up!"
Drop like flies

Life or death
Choices, vices
A free nation.