12/16/2008: "Break"

music: The Strokes - "What Ever Happened"
mood: Exhilarated

I have a new laptop... it's amazing! But I've been in a frenzy the past couple days getting it set up... Almost done. I'm kind of excited about the holiday season, but not really. The way I've become more environmentally and financially conscious over the past months has led me to feel that it is a season epitomizing the gross consumerism of our society. It's sad to me that nothing anymore is simple and good. Everything has a bad side, even things I used to think were so perfect when I was young. I guess that happens when one stops being completely naive. Everything in society today seems to me to be wasteful and excessive. I want to go back to simplicity.

I'm finally on my break from school. I received my grades - 2 A's and 2 A pluses. I need to start looking for jobs for post-graduation...

I'm going to post the final two poems that I've collected from my high school years...

Glass Dancer (November 18, 2003)

You dance so gently on a stage of feathers
And you tiptoe so softly, leaving only tiny wrinkles...
as footprints in time
like a delicate ballerina in a crystal ball
encased by silence, a frozen beauty of awe
But the father of time can spin you around
and rewind the clocks, without a sound
And you can dance on and on...
but never take notice when your audience is gone.

Two Plus Two (December 29, 2003)

You tiptoe down the dusky hallway,
wrapped stiffly in your old flannel robe
covered with the petals of yesterday's songs
but wrinkled by today's bitter wars.
Your faded pink slippers remind you of times
when home was where you ventured to
and Barbie's dreamhouse was the fantasy for you.
The world was coated in sweet frosted flakes,
like a blanket of snow floating down on your face.
Those days you thought flirting was bad
and your big sister was insanely mad
when she fell in love with the boy next door
who had the wildest hair
like the magazines at the corner store.
Two plus two was never four
but just a painting on the wall you chose to ignore.
Now you tread softly in a prism of memory
for everything's so fragile, wrapped in delicacy
The candle you hold in your trembling left hand
burns softly in secret, like your soul inside
but it gives you just enough to see
yourself and who you've come to be
The woman who walks to her parents' old room
to glance into the mirror long filled with gloom
has never lost the legend of yesterday's news
of blossoming roses in broken flower pots
and thorns filled with poison deadly to the heart
For passion is the only friend she's found,
A friend within an enemy buried in a mask,
A mask of color, of candy, of sweet lover's cards.
In the little town where she's settled down
Nature dances upon her face
with raindrops of sadness, of love, of pain
but somehow a rainbow always endures
A simple beauty of flaming light
arrayed in a spectrum of streaming delight.
She sits on her porch in a painted chair
simply braiding her crimson hair
But there's always a frown etched into her brow
And some say she'll never know, she'll never know how...