Never Ending Jokes

A girl met a guy who talked about the air, earth, and trees

When he looked at her, she felt he could completely see

He saw her for who she was and what she wanted to become

He promised he’d never make her submit or succumb

She fell in love with a hippie with an acoustic guitar

He serenaded her with songs and called her his star

They married in a friends backyard with no shoes and a baby-on-the-way

Forgetting to care about what the others and their parents would say

With a baby, he had to support them you see

so he got a job as an accountant, a regular Joe like you and me

He lost his guitar and forgot the trees

She left him since he could no longer see

What she dreamed to be Happily Ever After

Turned out to be just a joke and some laughter


Experiencing Education

Ever since I was little I loved learning. I once cried because I didn’t know how to read; the following summer my mom spent everyday teaching me. I loved, loved, loved reading and I still do. I remember being in first grade (or around there) and asking my teacher to give me homework. She laughed and was astonished at my earnest desire for knowledge. The point of this anecdote is that once I got the homework, I remember trying to do it, and it was quite hard. Some things in life aren’t teachable. You can’t be taught how to breathe, think, laugh, smile, ect. You can’t be taught how to experience life; you can’t be taught to find one’s soul. I am currently reading Siddhartha by Herman Hesse and the main character realizes this. He has been going around trying to find a teacher to teach him the meaning of Self and life, and he ends up finding out that some things cannot be taught. He had been running away from Self, and once he embraced himself, then he learned so much more through experience. So I say, yes, learning and school and knowledge are wonderful things. That does not mean, however, that the three always have to be combined. One can acquire knowledge many a places–not just in school.

Greener On The Other Side

Week 1

I walked down the quite street with a grin on my face. Today was the day. I’m not sure what day, or what time, or what ‘the day’ even meant. But I was going to seize the day and make it mine. If I failed, I’d do it again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. I believed in goodness and I believed in smiles and I believed in people.

Week 2

I asked the guy from the snow cone stand out. He said no, that’s not the way it works here. I smiled, not as bright, with a slightly dimmed light, but I still smiled and said okay. I wasn’t sad, not too much, just a little disappointed. But that’s okay, I will seize the day still! I’ll go and have my own fun.

Week 3

I am bored, and alone. I miss having friends; I lost them when I moved here. The people here don’t like smiling or seizing the day. People here just get by; people here like their space; people here don’t like people from there. I still smile, sing, and laugh. But I do all these things alone.

Week 4

I’ve tried. I asked many people to go out skating or to a movie, or just to go get coffee. The response was always ‘No, i’m sorry, I’m just busy.’ Are people always busy? I’d rather live my life being free and spending time with others than always being apologetic about my own busyness. The problem with trying, I’ve discovered, is you always fail, and failing gets tiring.

Week 5

I’ve gone home. It was better where I was from.


She was gone, yet she was here.

She was dead, but still near

She was blind, but could still see

Everything about you and me

She believed in everything,

She was simple, without extra bling

Yet she had everything a girl could behold

Her lips, her body, her heart was now cold.

I couldn’t believe that someone once so bold

Was now subject to a rule of old.

Everything living must pass away

While the dead yet alive, suffer; stay

and await for things to be better.


Sometimes, they come in random spurts for no reason. Others, they come from a special time with a friend that reminds you of another time with the same friend when everything was happy. I miss these times, but realize sometimes it is not always best to be nostalgic. Instead it is better to live in the moment and enjoy what is happening in the present rather than what you think happened in the past. So yeah, I miss that. But I’m happy for it because of who I’ve become through it, losing it, and surviving it. So, in the words of Fall Out Boy:
Thanks for the memories,
Even if they weren’t so great.

If a man does n…

If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.

Henry David Thoreau, Walden, From The Conclusion

Speak what you …

Speak what you think now in hard words and tomorrow speak what tomorrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict everything you said today.—” Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.”—Is it so bad then to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self Reliance

Dreaming to be Alice

I look down when I run. I don’t go all out; I look to make sure I won’t trip. I think when I “fall in love” or like someone, I do the same thing. I like them, sure, but I don’t freely love them, neglecting their flaws and mistakes. I look a glance ahead at them, see how great they could be and look right down again, waiting for a stick or obstacle to enter our path. When one inevitably comes, I don’t jump over the obstacle. Instead I end it quickly, no longer wanting this imperfect path. I fail to realize that people aren’t as perfect as I esteem them to be. There is no perfect path or person or relationship. There is only two imperfect people making there way on an imperfect path together through this imperfect world. The world of imperfection, while broken, is beautiful in it’s brokenness. I will try harder to do this instead of staring at the ground, looking for flaws because one day I’m not going to walk into love, I’m going to fall quickly, unexpectedly, and lovely. I don’t want to be worried about the lack of control I have, or the mistakes that could be made. I want to love the fall into the rabbit hole of another world others call Love.


Once a girl was happy, light, and loved.

She was white and beautiful and shown like a dove.

she never did anything wrong, only did what was right.

she learned it’s not okay to be colorful here, only white.

So she got a job, had a boyfriend, got married

Very soon she felt heavy and burdened and buried

In this whirlwind we call life, and she said goodbye to her.

She became the girl who goes to a party and soon slurs.

She was told one day that she had had no life

She looked down at the sharp, pointed knife.

She considered, if only for a moment, to really wave bye

But then she thought with a drawn out sigh

No. I want to live and love and dream and BE

So she got in her car and she drove far away to see

What was out there in the city of life and happiness, NYC

So she bought those red heels, and she wore them everyday

and she kissed that one boy one day on the subway

she made up for lost time and she learned all along

You don’t have to be cool, hip, or even belong

One just has to believe, live, love, kiss, dream,

Because you may wake up one day to a too bright beam,

You realize the brightness and white light

Is your blank canvass, called Your Life.

You thought you did everything right, did nothing too tart.

But in the end, all you made was Nothing, completely void of art.

Spin The Bottle: First Kisses

He kissed my lips with the taste of beer on his. I pull away with a smile, even though everything about him disgusts me. I continue to kiss him and the bitter taste lessens. Everyone’s laughing and saying they knew we’d be great together. Why? This insults me in a way, but I guess I’m not doing myself any favors by continuing to kiss him, letting his big, sloppy hands slide over my hips. I push him off me after a while, and go sit down and my best friends are smiling and saying they are happy for me. All I can think is I’m not sure how that can be when my insides are crying from humiliation and disappointment, and my lips are tainted and I can’t even look at myself in the mirror. I’ve ripped myself apart for the sake of being whole in someone else’s eyes, and some way, some how, I’m surprised when I feel like a fraction. I feel different, sure.

But this wasn’t what I was looking for.