I Miss You

I am full of the words "I miss you."
I am tired of words; I miss you.
This is the pit in my stomach,
always waving goodbye
more than speaking hellos.
Your hand, the one held
while crying fervent prayers,
It's void. I spoke faith
as a ritual. I played notes
as a symbol of what
I cannot be, what I used to be,
mostly when we whispered willingness
to succeed, despite the nails attempting
to claw us down. I'm down
now. Where is your hand?
Maybe picking up the phone
to say "I miss you".
Nearly worthless.

Christmas Dinner

Course One: Lentil Veggie Soup
Course Two: cheese and cracker appetizer.
Course Three: Spinach and Greens salad with red wine and vinegar dressing.
Main Course: Rib roast with red wine au jus. Roasted red potatoes with garlic and herbs. Roasted asparagus with garlic and herbs. Ciabatta roll.

Christmas Dreamlist

Here is what I would love to get for Christmas, some realistic, others not so much.

• Flight to somewhere new.
• Greece Vacation
• Mac Airbook
• New tires for my car
• Valentino Shoes
• Nordstrom Gift Card
• Boxing Lessons
• Paid school bills
• Jane Austen Book set
• Iphone Dock
• New car stereo
• Spa Resort
• Gas Money
• Money (haha)
• Gym Membership
• Espresso Machine
• Iphone Workout Armband
• Digital Camera
• Volleyball 
• Ethnic food cooking lessons
• William-Sonoma Gift Card
• Rafting Trip
• Fully funded, U.S road trip
• Non-complicated/educated/tall/intelligent/ambitious/male
• Grill
• Porch Swing
• Aprons
• Square, white dinnerware
• Friends that stop moving away from me (so, so bitter haha)
• A new place.

Once, I Didn't Run

1. Rain
I run while it rains because I'm trying to get
away from the downpour of questions.Maybe I should have ran
the first time you spoke the words you can trust me.

2. Storms
If a sentence could be a siren, words like those would signal
a storm. I should have ran
to the shelter that survives mistrust
similar to wind gusts and the disgust I feel for believing
in a different outcome.

3. Umbrella
But I can see you
waiting with an umbrella (you look
like sunshine)
if I would stop being so stubborn;
but it's Portland, umbrellas are for tourists,
silly.

4. Sunshine
Don't make me laugh (spoken through half
a chuckle). I want to stay melancholy
so I pretend to not get your comedy.
If I laugh enough, I'll trust too much.
But you catch me laughing on the inside, want
to take it to the outside; it will rain there.

5. Snow
Is snow better or worse than rain?
There was a blizzard
that made you the safest place to be
even when you spoke something so unsettling
you should trust me. There was too much
darkness and fir trees, snowflakes making
small hills look like mountain peaks. For once,
more scared of what was out than what is within,
I didn't run.
The question remains, is snow better or worse
than rain?

Depressing post, alright...

I believe that we all have different things that we lean against for security. For me, it's been friends and my goals and ambitions. Honestly, my goals and the progress to accomplish things have given me more confidence in my life than anything else. That is why right now, that confidence seems to be fading. My goals, although still in place, don't seem to be getting any closer to completion. In fact, more questions keep arising. More obstacles keep coming up. But what is to be done? Part of me wants to pack my bags and start somewhere new and push past the fear of falling flat on my face. Ok, most of me wants to just pack my bags. It's not that I don't like Portland or the people here. I do have friends here, my family is here. But what am I doing here? Right now?... Nothing. I've been contemplating purpose a lot lately. I've lost sight of mine, if I ever really saw it. You only live one life, and it passes as if its a mere moment. Should I live discontent? I don't think so... And yet I am stuck. There's so many things I've listed on bucket lists and life to do lists, and where am I at in making those things happen? Nowhere near where I should be! I'm running out of time, and yet I'm only running into brick walls.

Bad Poetry

I spend this time writing poetry about you
and your absurd way of singing
each thought and I just thought
maybe you would take some time to write
a poem for me, even if it is no good. After all,
I'll take what I can get and it would be equal
to what I'm giving. I don't know how to do things
like liking, but I'm sure you've also got a song
for that. If only music could really fix the problems
bottled up inside. There's a list of them as long as a list
of cliches I always seem to write. Perhaps, i am not
unique after all. I would be ok with a mediocre me if
there was an extraordinary us. I hate to admit it, but
there's strength to be found in holding hands.
Write me a poem about how I'm a little
unstable but that's why I have you to lean on.

Silly Rambles About Love

Here is something about being sick: it gives me way too much time to think and watch romantic comedies with friends. The combination of the two does not bide very well. Individuals tend to act as though unrequited love is the victor of heartbreaks. But my opinion, all though very biased and one-sided, significantly differs.

There is something to say for those who are willing to love without holding back and without too much thought. I like to say that these people "live in the clouds" and aren't very intelligent. While that may be true, I am a bit jealous of them. I see many people who are unafraid to make an effort. Disclaimer: I'm in no way advocating forwardness or attention seeking. Matters of the heart and the head should be dealt with class. But these people possess a confidence that I lack. It's the confidence that says "even if my heart is shattered in a billion pieces, I'll be OK". This confidence may not be in themselves, but it's invested into life in general. The "things will work out" mentality tends to be one that I mock while I hold a "things will work out if I use my brain and work extremely hard" thought process.

When it comes to falling in love diving into a shallow lake (dramatic) all is fair, yes? But it's not. Love and war are one and the same and someone always loses in a battle. My battleground is myself. The victor of heartbreaks is the staunch ache of knowing you aren't enough to even reach our your hand for it. The victor of heartbreaks is never having the high of love, only the withdraws of it's absence.

I say it's a simpler life without the games, the wondering, the highs, the lows. But truth be told, it's not. Today I had the thought "someday, all of my friends will be in love and I won't relate". What then? At this point of my life, it's alright to take my time and be alone; but I'm closer to 25 than 20 and I've never been close to "falling in love". I've been pinned as pessimistic but that's a misunderstanding. It's simply fear, and one that I don't want to hold on to.

This is a long/rambling/random/deardiary post, especially after so long of not posting. But now that I have the blogger app on my iPhone, maybe I will return more often. Till then!

Always Home

Based on the saying "home is where the heart is", I have always considered myself homeless. From other posts over the last week it is probably evident that I have not exactly  been the happiest person as of late. This partially due to the feelings of not belonging or having the possibility of doing so... mostly in the context of a relationship. 

But yesterday things changed. I spent the day refocusing and writing down some new and old goals. I was again inspired to take the action I need to take in order to be accomplished and successful. I'm not exactly sure when, but along the way I started wrapping my life around the opinions of others. I allowed myself to feel less than enough because I wasn't fully accepted by others. 

I made the drastic mistake of being interested in someone when I have not and am not quite on the path to achieve things of high importance. Not only that, but this person, in many ways, doesn't know me. I gave it a chance and I can't say I fully regret that. But I learned that if someone isn't taking the steps to really know you, walk away. Or run away. Do whatever necessary to not be trapped by silly emotions. 

That is exactly what I have done. And it feels amazing. I am not going to deny that I find pleasure in being in control. I like to know where my life if is going. I like to know the possible outcomes of a situation. I like to plan, plan, plan. And then follow through to the end. So this regaining of control over not only my goals but my emotions has left me with a sense of strength.

But there is still that nagging that asks if I am homeless or restless because my heart doesn't exactly have a home. The answer is no. The heart is an internal organ in the body. And if the saying is true, I am home wherever my body is. I am home when I have restful nights of sleep. I am home when I stand tall and smile at the people who have rejected me. I am home when I go to work, classes, and graduate from college. I am home when I laugh with my best friends. This is real life. I feel alive.

In Between

Here is the truth: I don't know where I am going or what I am doing. I just know the "why". In some ways, that's the best place to start, to know what motivates you and makes you passionate. In other ways, it makes these in between times feel like I am accomplishing nothing.

Here is the truth: I'm ready to move forward. And by "move forward" I mean that I really want to go to new places and meet new people. I have some good friends here but I cannot help to think that there is something lacking right now.

Here is the truth: some of the guys I know throw society's ideology of beauty into the faces of young women trying to live as more than a face. The expectations are too high for me to ever achieve and it leaves me either feeling deeply insecure and/or really isolated.

Here is the truth: I hated this night. And I did so with class...I did so without anger or visible emotions, except for that moment in my car, in the parking lot. But no one needs to know about that.

Here is the truth: I should not have cared in the first place.

A Poem

There is beauty in the smell

of burning matches

and the sound of 

crunching leaves.

Fallen trees

that cross deeper streams

perch me up. 

Maybe the very things

that speak of death,

breathe meaning into life. 

Just for the Record

Just for the record, I'm more complicated than I would like to admit. I over analyze everything, especially myself. Sylvia Plath said that she either liked people way too much or not at all. I'm the same way. People are more important to me than I ever utilize words to express. For some strange reason I find it easier to tell the very people I care about that I don't need them in my life (true story, I just told a friend that a couple weeks ago). I hold way too much in until it eventually comes out all wrong. I express myself but it is misunderstood, and this is probably my own fault.

I want to appear put together. I like for it to seem like I have a perfect plan for my life and I'm following it precisely. I like for people to think that I'm entirely capable of working all week, having a garage sale, planning a party, and cooking for twenty people without things going wrong and still looking completely in control. Truth is, my hair looked terrible at that party, I was running around like a crazy person all day, and I forgot to get gas and ran out that night. Yes, friends, this is the real reason it took me ages to run to the store for more beverages. Fortunately, few of you read my blog so my secret is relatively safe.

My point is this: I'm still figuring things out; but let's be honest, when do we ever stop? For every question answered, a new one comes up. For every new situation or period of life, different problems need solving.
In some ways, this is really depressing because it is as if I am working towards an end that doesn't exist. And yet, it's comforting to think that even though you may not sit and blog about your "issues" you have them too. Goodness, you may not even be aware of them, but they undoubtedly exist. And the people who can take the time to analyze my problems probably aren't self aware enough for me to pay attention to. I think I'll stick with those crazy, sometimes annoying, people that at times drastically misunderstand me yet still stay around when I tell them I'm fine without them (lies.lies.lies). Just for the record, thanks.

I haven't written because...

Maybe I can't convince myself to sit and write because writing somehow shatters the illusion, if not for everyone else, for myself.

 Someone once said that poetry is a lie that tells the truth. For me, this applies to writing in general. Whether I am straight up venting, writing a poem, or a story, somehow I feel like I am giving away something about myself each time. Maybe that just shows how I have never quite reached a level of maturity in my writing that I need to.

Every now and again, real life sucks out my creativity. With working a lot, trying to go back to school, and juggling a build up of emotions that make me uncomfortable, I have been afraid that blogging would just end up being a post about something ridiculous that future Tsionah will regret. I may have to admit to some truths I've previously avoided.

The one thing I'm absolutely sure of right now, is that nothing is certain. Everything changes. I change. And while I've opened up my blog numerous times to write, I cannot seem to write about those changes. I process some things by writing about them, so please excuse me while I decide not to write.

Too Much

Sometimes, the escape route has a traffic jam. There's too much walking away done by everyone else, finding the emergency exit doors when they need them the most. I'm still standing, but in the same spot I was a year ago. So I might as well be sitting, or sleeping, except I cannot. Change is mostly apparent at the reunion. Like when that Aunt you rarely saw commented on how tall you had become. It's like the "you have lost weight" observation by someone you rarely see. This leads me to think that some breathing space from myself is in order. Yet the only way to leave oneself is to become immersed in the life of another. This is too much like commitment. This is too much like something other than self reliance. This is too much letting go. Sometimes the escape route has a traffic jam; other times I freeze, still, in a burning building.

Impasse

I think about you most when I'm trying
the hardest not to. You might as well
be that one song stuck on repeat that
plays in my car while I take
drives up Cooper Mountain, just to watch
the sun set like it does every night.


The sun sets every night while I'm trying
hard not to think about you but this turns
out to be a difficult thing to do. So I turn
pages of Picoult novels, sitting at the top 
of Cooper Mountain, pretending to be
in another world but even then,
the supporting characters
sustain this impasse. 


You are a roadblock to my normal escape
route. I welcomed you into my life,
and occasionally my mind,
but certainly not my heart. 


We all like beginnings, but I fear the part
where things end, dead ends; 
most likely with smoke and fire and the ringing
of car alarms from a crash when a corner was 
cut too close. You'll be alright, because you spend 
your nights sleeping, while I'm driving up 
Cooper Mountain
thinking, thinking, thinking. 

Reminiscing

I found who I used to be in a closed
drawer, in boxes stacked in the corner.
In the notebook with unsent letters, 
the cards from friends I no longer call,
here is the proof of more than maturity,
but something also lost: invincibility.

The Needy Person's Guide to Not Being Needy

I think it goes without saying that in general, individuals should be respected. But sometimes, people make it difficult. This post will be different than most of my posts. But after a lot of experiences, I feel like I should get this out.

I understand that people need each other. Each of us desire to be wanted, loved, and ultimately, understood. But needy people (according to me) do things counter to achieving the previously stated. They may think they are making progress toward this goal, but in truth, they may attract the wrong types of people with this unnecessary behavior. 

I like to consider myself an independent person. To be fair, I often go to the extreme of independence which is also unhealthy and can result in the alienation of people whom I actually care about. But the one thing I try desperately hard not to be is needy. This is relevant to how I am when I am interested in a person, with my family, and my friends. So I think that I can at the least supply some tips based on my own personality and observations.

Tip One: Don't publicly criticize yourself. The ultimate reason for doing this is to get someone to disagree with you. But after a while, reassuring an individual that they are beautiful, or good at singing, or excellent at ping pong gets really annoying. In addition, it can make someone who is less attractive, or good at singing, or excellent at ping pong feel badly about themselves. I do understand that there are times to talk about your insecurities. There are friends for that. But check your surroundings and motives. 

Tip Two: Don't tear down own other people in order to build yourself up. You end up just looking like a jerk. Not everyone can decipher the root reason of this action. It will drive people away.

Tip Three: Don't deny that you are needy. Perhaps this should go at the top of the list, but I'm writing as it comes to me. Denial of your neediness only makes other people expect more of you. If you know that you tend to be a needy person, own up to it. People respect honesty... at least I do!

Tip Four: Don't act like no one cares/loves/wants/needs you. It's a backhanded insult to those who take their time/money/energy/care/compassion/love/friendship and give it to you. Doing this is downright rude. It's similar to tip one; you want those people to disagree with you and tell you that they care. But why would they want to do that when you just threw it away? 

Tip Five: Don't make excuses for yourself. I get it; everyone does this. But what I mean is that if you are in a bad mood because you had a long day at work, got into a fight with someone else, didn't get enough sleep, or (for women) it's your time of the month, don't use those things to take liberty with how you act with others. How is this needy? Well it's depending upon everything around you to control your mood and expecting other people to switch it if you aren't in a positive mood. Things/people/situations can alter how you feel but it is never a valid excuse for how you treat those around you. This is something I can work on... I will be honest about that. But I guess the difference is whether you can own up to it or not. If I want respect, then I have to act worthy of respect regardless of situations surrounding me.

Tip Six: You have a problem? Fix it! Stop whining and complaining about it and asking everyone else to fix it for you. You're a capable person and the only way to prove it to yourself is by doing things. 

I think that the above things are a pretty good start. Now, some of my friends may read this and get offended....first off, this is a combined thing based on observing more than one needy person... and I also invite you to write a blog post/FB note/personal message/letter about how to not be an emotionally closed off, complexly proud/insecure, and stubborn person. 

Moment of Weakness

The fluttering in my stomach
has folded into tight knots that only loosen
when I remember the good times. Long gone
is how I think of you but maybe if I could unravel
these ropes I could lasso you back into my life.

Morning Ramble

I remembered my dream and you were there. We were just sitting together and talking, but somehow it made my sleep deeper. Not even the buzzing of my phone from a best friend could convince me to return to reality.

But now I am awake. And reality is felt in the pit of my stomach. It is strange that the inability to fix a situation stirs so intensely. These aches: cancer, undiagnosed diseases, friend's depression, conflict. It is like a disease of my own and I shrink a bit more with each spasm.

You, with your consistency to others while at the same time yourself, are the one I want to talk to. With all your positive attributes though, the one thing you could be is a bit more perceptive. But then again, I am pretty good at masking.

I honestly don't know where I am going with this. All I know is that I feel the need to write but I haven't because I don't want to be honest with myself. It would require too much right now. And right now, there's not much that I have to give.

It's May!

It is May! This time of year always makes me happy. First of all, it's the month of my birthday. Secondly, the sun starts shining more regularly in Oregon. Thirdly, I can feel summer break on its way!

To be entirely honest, the last month has not been especially fantastic for me. My mind was on overload with many situations. Trusting in God isn't one of my specialties. But in this moment, I feel great. Sure, not all of those situations have miraculously transformed, but perhaps I am changing; and that, my friends, would be the greatest miracle of all. I am learning to value life. I am a privileged person and should never take for granted the things that I have. 

This post doesn't have much direction. But in a moment like this, writing seems to be what I gravitate towards. I am feeling positive about something in particular and it makes me want to take a risk. The most epic songs are the ones running through my mind. I feel bold. It's 1:44am, and I feel bold. Why does this sudden strength not hit me at a more convenient time? 

But I digress. In 7 hours I will be taking a statistics test that I am entirely unprepared for. So let's hope that this strength spills over throughout the day. And I am out!...

Shame

I recently watched two Ted Talks by Brene Brown. One of them was about vulnerability and the other was about shame. I would highly suggest that you watch both videos. They made me think a lot. Vulnerability is somewhat of a reoccurring theme in this blog of mine. But shame is something I have never taken the time to dive into.

These are some of my favorite quotes from the videos: "Vulnerability is not weakness... It is our most accurate measure of courage. Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.... Shame is the gremlin that says 'I'm not good enough'. Shame is not guilt. Guilt is 'I made a mistake'. Shame is 'I am a mistake'. Shame is an epidemic in our culture and to find our way back to each other we have to know empathy. Empathy is the antidote of shame."

If vulnerability is indeed our most accurate measure of courage, sharing with each other the stories of shame that personally haunts us is an act of strength. Grasping this concept is nearly impossible when each person seems to be holding so tightly to a persona of perfection. I have decided, though, that I would share some pieces of truth regarding myself. I am doing this a bit for myself and a bit for you. And so it begins.

I ask myself what the origin of my shame is. But I can't find that if I am not willing to admit that shame in my life exists and identify it.

It exists. More than I want to admit. Sometimes people say I am heartless. This isn't something I have heard from one or two people. Multiple people have told me this. Mostly it's in jest, but in every joke there is a bit of truth, right? I'm not heartless; I am guarded. If I just pretend to be unmovable, maybe I will be. It's a lie.

My shame looks something like
running away from emotions because that makes me weak.
never starting (or quitting) a project because I won't be good enough at it.
sabotaging relationships because of my own feelings of inferiority.
wide-eyed fear, shaken out of a deep sleep.

My shame sounds something like
crying when I'm trying to sleep.
advice given to others that I never accept for myself.
bitter words.

My shame feels like
heartbreak, self broken.
failure, self induced.
frustration, self produced.

This is shame. Sometimes it's more alive in my life than other times. I am sure I am doing this to somehow minimize what I just said, but there's also a lot of happiness, joy, real strength, and peace in my life as well. But pretending that shame does not exist disables me from ever grabbing the hand of a friend and telling them that we will push through together. Denial disengages us. Disconnecting ourselves from the knowledge of these feelings disconnects us from every other imperfect person.

I don't know how to end this post. I could go on. But perhaps there will be a part two sometime in the future. Goodbye.

Acrobat

You make my heart an acrobat
performing with no safety net.
If I fall, it's to the death
But these flips are automatic.
I am so trained to keep control
but this has become a freestyle
show and the audience gasps in awe
at the one who balances
on the tight rope, very little hope
for a palladium.

When It Rains

Inseparable: It's funny how that changes
into never speaking. It's like a drought
that makes settlers move away.

Summer: We have both thrown away
things (snapshots, cheap-shots) that may convict
us of happenings that occurred then.

Rain: It smells like fresh linens
and feels like new beginnings, soft.
I am dancing here alone.

Confessions

I have noticed a trend. The more people I am aware of reading my blog, the less raw my writing is. I don't like this. I want to be able to write what I want without worrying that this friend, or that family member, or some random stranger will not be satisfied with what I write. Do not be mistaken; I appreciate those that take the time to read my humble blog posts. As it has been said many times, "it's not you, it's me". But this post is doing away with some of that.

I think that I have been doing a lot of growing as an individual lately. I have made decisions that are completely unlike the normal "me". I see a bigger picture. Throughout my reflections, I have more firmly come to realize that how I interact with others is of the chiefest importance in my life. Granted, things don't change automatically and unhealthy habits are easier to learn than to break. There is, though, one such subject that has been somewhat of a reoccurring theme in my life and (more specifically) this blog: vulnerability. This has always been a weak area for me. To feel vulnerable was always a symbol to myself of mine own weakness. And yet, perhaps vulnerability is instead an example of strength? The more I think of this, the more I begin to see that it could be true. 

The rigid thought process in which I attempt to make all decisions (life, emotions, relationships, etc.) does not make me stronger. It simply makes me less prone to chaos and more apt to living a boring and lonely life. Letting go of some of my own control in the last few months has been both the most rewarding and trying experience. It has taught me that following "gut instinct" doesn't always lead to chaos. It has shown me that sometimes chaos takes you places that inflexible calculations will not. 

And so the whole point of this lengthy post is that I am hoping to return to some writing that is more than form, alliteration, slant rhymes, etc. I thought I would start with a list of confessions. Don't get your hopes up too much... it won't be anything super important... baby steps.

1. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever finish college. I act like I have it all figured out, but with finances, other obligations, and the occasional feeling of complete inadequacy, the skeptic inside arises.
2. The people I really trust can be counted on one hand. 
3. The people I will never trust cannot be counted on many hands.
4. I actually have been interested in more guys than I ever have let on (most people can't name two guys I have liked). Still, this number is probably below average which I am OK with. 
5. Until recently, I have felt that the whole possibility of dating thing was REALLY far into my future. 
6. I've had to sever some relationships because they weren't good for me. It felt selfish. 
7. I enjoy big groups, but sometimes I just want to be with two or three people who are really important to me.
8. That sense of belonging to a group exists for me about 50% of the time. The other half, I am roaming around trying to figure out what's happening. Sometimes this gets me down and other times the solitude is nice. 
9. I have to have a project or I get really bored and start feeling like life is meaningless (insert typical Jewish melodramatics here!). 
10. Sometimes I care. It's not always no big deal.

And here, I conclude. 

Comfort Pillow

Lofty ideas are not permitted for one
so young, but a lofted bed is the place
where I escape disbelieving glances,
discrediting remarks. Maybe if I sob
enough the droplets will take root
into this special pillow that I will sleep
with when I am twenty one. Maybe
when I am old enough to harvest
this small act of defiance I will
hold this stuffed, green comfort
with hollow corners, perfect for my
clenched fist. It's as if the white stitched
plant will be blooming with gleaned
strength for my future's picking.

The following is a poorly written poem...

There's been many draft posts sitting here, waiting for me to finish. But that hasn't happened. Instead, I have this random piece of nothingness that I typed up on my newly possessed iphone. Enjoy.


Those bittersweet moments come
back to me like I am the one to blame.
I smell your after the rain, wood cabin
scent on the body of a stranger walking
past me. You can't imagine how much I hate
to love the tingling it creates in my nostrils
and my brain. Remembering car rides
and adventures that cannot be revisited
should be outlawed. I never was coherently
in sync with the emotion that walked me.
And now it only stalks me when it shouldn't,
leaving guilt.

He is We

I discovered this band during the summer and I have been addicted ever since. They are from Tacoma, Washington and I love finding bands that are from the Pacific NW! Anyways, I wanted to share some of their songs. "Too Beautiful" may be triggering for those who have witnessed or experienced domestic or sexual violence. I hope you enjoy their music though!

Roses Only - By Marianne Moore

You do not seem to realize that beauty is a liability rather
than
an asset - that in view of the fact that spirit creates form
we are justified in supposing
that you must have brains. For you, a symbol of the
unit, stiff and sharp,
conscious of surpassing by dint of native superiority and
liking for everything
self-dependent, anything an

ambitious civilization might produce: for you, unaided, to
attempt through sheer
reserve, to confuse presumptions resulting from
observation, is idle. You cannot make us
think you a delightful happen-so. But rose, if you are
brilliant, it
is not because your petals are the without-which-nothing
of pre-eminence. Would you not, minus
thorns, be a what-is-this, a mere
perculiarity? They are not proof against a worm, the
elements, or mildew;
but what about the predatory hand? What is brilliance
without co-ordination? Guarding the
infinitesimal pieces of your mind, compelling audience to
the remark that it is better to be forgotten than to be re-
membered too violently,
your thorns are the best part of you.

Fresh Air

You are the air I breathe
in the alley of our big city.
Similar to the inhalation of fresh
air, yet lacking the enjoyment,
this is necessity. We breathe
out of habit and to break a habit
takes consecutive days without.
Withdrawal means death, and I
am too young to die.

The only way to get away
is to take something
maybe, a train, slowly
into the country where it can
be learned what is healthy.

Pen

This is just something I've been attempting to write all week. It needs to be edited, massively. But I'm posting it in it's entirety because it took me so long to get it on the page.

Pen, you were never meant to limit

what I want to say. Once upon a time

you were used to speak without restraint,

the voice I never had the strength to release,

Released me to deny these fairytale stories

about a prince so charming that he cannot

see that I have already slain the dragon.

Pen, you used to be my liberty

from loneliness. But somehow I have

become alone with you in my hand

and I cannot seem to write out my

own happily ever after that is nothing

like all the others. Somehow I am stuck

in this socialized cycle of wanting this cliché

image of dreams coming true.

Pen, assist me in this endeavor to be honest,

not in the way I have been in the past. Reality

is relative and right now it is related to the fact

that I cannot seem to look away from the eye

contact this not so prince charming and I have made.

I used to pretend to be heartless

and it made me

honest about every other’s fault.

Pen, teach me that to be authentic

means putting you down to rest

and the rest is said with vocality not with

these scribbles of the truth of my core. But I am most

me with you in hand, so I’ll put you in my pocket

just in case I need the extra strength when I speak.

Sunk

You told me that each
word I spoke was poetry
and so I stopped speaking
when you walked away.
I never wanted this clench
in my stomach to be
inspiration. I didn't want
to poeticize you back
into my life. And now,
my shoulders are tense,
years later with regret
of what I never could say.
It wasn't love. It was friendship
we sailed until I was banned
with barely a lifeboat.
And there will never be
enough poetry to fix
the sinking emotion of
loneliness that has submerged
me for so long.

Thinking of you.

It's like you found yourself homeless
so you took residence in my head.
It's like you feed off of my sensibility
and infest my sense of pride.
My brilliance is mid recession.
I'm tangled in the obsession of what
ifs. If I evict you, I won't be the same
but I haven't figured out if this
it the best or worst thing that has settled
in my brain. I could oust and ostracize
for the sake of my independence.
But what ifs, what ifs, if this is some
thing more than the mind and yet some
thing I like. Like something of the heart.
No, I won't speak it. It is but a thought,
(love).

Top 10 Public Transit Pet Peeves

In case you didn't know, I don't drive. I commute using Portland's public transit system, Trimet. Most of the time, it is not too bad. But there are some things people do on the train/streetcar/bus that I will NEVER understand. Here's my top 10 pet peeves in no particular order!


1. When people using speaker phone. I don't care about your conversation.
2. When individuals who have their music up SO loud with the type oh headphones that basically act as a stereo for the rest of riders.
3. Road rage from bus drivers. Yes, that individual just cut you off, but I honestly do no want to hear you rant about it for the duration of my trip.
4. The person who WILL NOT stop changing seats.
5. The person who stands stupidly in front of the bike rack on the train and just stares at the person waiting for them to move so they can hang up their bike rack.
6. Making eye contact multiple times without ever saying anything. There could have been something there HA!.
7. Loud eating. It's annoying all the time, but it's especially annoying when there's no where for me to run away to.
8. People who don't know how to move into the train or bus when it's crowded. Stop being so passive, Portlanders! Even though I was raised here, I totally understand the East Coast way of maneuvering through a crowd. Just do it.
9. When creepy guys take pictures with their cell phones.
10. Middle schoolers and high school freshmen. No explanation needed.

Random Draft

It is possible that I cried for you.
Not in the way that one weeps
for the dead. But for the understanding
of what one cannot have.