Monday, May 21, 2012

Tassels Turned

Here's Something I wrote on the bus to Oregon! Nature has it's perks :).

The tassel is turned to the left side and the combination of gold honors and black string blend together nicely. It's a funny feeling, you know--not having any paper to write or position to take. But still, there's a sense of anxiousness in your stomach. You can feel the dinner you ate the night before and wonder if the feeling will ever return void. You remind yourself it's summer now and the fall no longer offers you curriculum and chapel requirements. This feeling is neither sad or happy--it simply is. The feeling exists, and I'll greet it with smiles and handshakes. Kisses are given out like they are at birth, and I guess in a funny way you are being birthed all over again.

I am proud, and I was ready

Growing up is a funny thing because it seems everybody grows up at different times regardless of their age. I am 21 on Sunday, and an intoxicated experience is the furthest birthday wish I have (this is good for many reasons, I assure you.) Instead, I think I'd rather take a hike with a picnic and be fully aware of the whole experience. I'm not much for elaborate celebrations these days (Though the surprise birthday party for my sweet 16 was a fine one.) Instead, I think I'd rather be with few who desire to hand out lilies and tickle the fancy for fantasy. Some things will never change-- that is one of the most comforting and terrifying thoughts as of late. It's funny how one thing can mean so many things while changing and staying the same day in and day out. It's funny how run-on sentences can be more poised than proper ones.

I am delighted with the present, satisfied with the past, and looking forward to the future. 

June, July, and August are one the horizon the calendar tells me.

Here is the  mindful(less) poem composed over 1500 miles in Oregon and yesterday morning.

Stories are different,
Smiles are different
Health is different
[like how they thought Margerine was satisfactory, and counseling was bad.]
 But really, it's an echo of what has stayed the same
From 2009 until today.

July is the heat
But August should release
Until things change, it seems
Summer months breathe different(same) things.

                   September brings happy things

I am             different
          They   are        different

We are the same
Because we don't change
We Grow
[apart like Pangaea]

And the world stops making sense
And it's like Jack said
"We gotta swim, swim for our lives
Swim for the music that saves you
When you're not so sure you'll survive."

But lyrics of "Colly Strings"
Pose questions of skin piercings
And foolish things
Like calling and sleep.

This pen and paper keep sanity and building
So I won't shake a thing
No, I can't shake this thing.

So I'll write and write
Like it could actually change a thing.

[Margarine leaves an aftertaste]



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