one last time, lets do it!

Unsure. Nervous.

This is the last time I will hold a flag and rifle and sabre, and perform.

Ever. Ever. Ever.

The weight of the situation is so heavy... it falls with a thud onto my heart and strikes rancid apprehension. Finality -- it cuts me to pieces.

It's so hard to fathom that this is real. That the practices and performances that once ruled my daily life are now things of the past. Something I'll look back on, smile on, cry on. It hurts. My mind is racing, my heartbeat won't stay still. How. How is this possible? It's not! Ohwait, yes it is. Is it?

I chose this. I chose this.

I chose to leave. It's what's best.

Like amputating a leg to stop a deadly infection. To save my sanity, I had to sacrifice something that I loved as dearly as my limb. The sleepless nights dragged on way to often. Time slipped through my fingers. I couldn't catch my breath - I didn't have time to, I was too busy running with five hundred different weights tied to my ankles. I have fallen. It's time to let one go, so I can stand back up.

It all changes now.

ode to P O P S I C L E S

{{ Katrina and I were talking about popsicles, it was originally her idea to blog about them :] ... }}

The popsicle juice dribbles down my chin, and almost instinctively I catch it with my tongue. Flavor dances on my tastebuds as I muse about the riddle on the popsicle stick, cradled for a moment in a peaceful popsicle-repose.

All of a sudden, the memories race each other back.

Whoosh. I'm five, it's Brookline. I'm rollerblading with Ruby when the familiar music-box melody of the ice cream truck crescendoes as it nears. Frantically we stumble towards our houses, ready to grovel at the feet of our parents and babysitters for a bit of change. Popsicle, popsicle...

Whoosh. I'm nine, it's Newton. I'm on the swings with Sylvie when the familiar music-box melody of the ice cream truck ricochets off the brick walls of our school. We jump off the swings and sprint to the truck, counting pennies and dimes in our pockets. Popsicle, popsicle...

Whoosh. I'm fourteen, it's California. I was posing for a Darfur rally picture with Katrina yesterday when the familiar music-box melody of the ice cream truck stirred dusty memories. Popsicle, popsicle... One glance at each other and we remembered what to do. Without hesitation we handed the crinkled dollar over to Mr. Ice Cream Man, and something childishly excited inside me awoke.

I realized that my childhood has been characterized by popsicles. Popsicles in times of joy, in anger, and in sadness. What is a better comfort these days than a little frozen block of sugar - a simple reminder of simple, happy times? Times of less pressure, of less drama, clear of the intricate, mind-crushing webs of thought that constantly cling to our consciences.

It's pleasantly simple.
The thought floods the mind and echoes its happy mantra:
popsicle... popsicle... popsicle...

Kiss from a Cherry Popsicle by Adorkable-3


...popsicle!

that s i n k i n g feeling

/ I walk barefoot where the water drowns the sand / with you no longer here to hold my hand / I let go / The ocean makes my swelling heart feel small / With the sounds it makes you won't hear it if iI call / I let go / There's a breeze in the air / There's a boat anchored out here / There's a calm under the waves as I choose to sink /

There are days when, other than a minimal amount of homework, I have literally nothing to do.
You might be thinking, oh that's nice...?
No. I sit there and rot. I feel like my life is wasting away.

These days, everyone important, or destined for an important place, seems to be busy all the time. When they're not under extreme academic stress from constant studying and AP classes, they're consumed in extensive extra-curriculars that take up hours every single day. They go off to Ivies, to Stanford, to UCLA.

Where am I in all this?

As the 'successful' people rise in life, I'm that hobo on the side of the street, caught between the parallel webs of helplessness and self-pity. I have to get out of my cardboard box more; I can't sleep on newspapers forever.

That's probably a bit of an exaggeration, but I still do feel like I'm not doing enough.
I want to do things, go places.
At the rate I'm going, the chances are unsettlingly slim.

In reality, those rising people probably work 10 times harder than I do. On the surface they appear to instantly succeed, like it's in their nature. But when they go home, what do they do? Study study study. Then again, maybe I'm just trying to comfort myself.

I guess success is something we have to slowly build up, through good habits, perseverance, blood and sweat, like a plant needs to be watered.

AMEERA90: Plant of Success

a p o l o g i z e

It may seem like I'm ignoring you guys lately.
Constantly turning things down, being ever-busy...

I'm re(eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee)ally sorry, but trust me I'd much rather be hanging out with you than being like this!
I wouldn't do it unless there was no better way.

On a happier note, hopefully it'll all be over soon and life will be back to normal. (Or as normal as it ever was.)

Please bear with me!!

Speaking of bears... this will have to do for now!
Bear Hug by elultimodeseo (on DeviantArt, as always)

ONE GREAT BIG GIANT BEAR HUG TO YOU ALL! :D

Ghost of my past

/ maybe you were all faster than me / we gave each other up so easily / these silly little wounds will never mend / I feel so far from where I've been / So I go / And I will not be back here again / I'm gone as the day is fading / on white houses / I lied, wrote my injuries all in the dust / In my heart it's the five of us /
~White Houses, Vanessa Carlton

Where have I BEEN all these years?

I built my own little sandcastle on the shore of the ocean of life, and then, WHAM.
A tsunami comes and tears it all down.

Years ago, I started burrowing, believing that if I got down deep enough, I'd be able to escape cruel reality.
But the cold, abrasive waters of life still come crashing through,
and now I can't breathe.

Once underwater, I start to remember.

does the air still taste like crisp leaves and dumplings?
is that Little Mermaid doll still sitting on your desk?
have you tossed that ball around lately?
are you still looking for that stamp I stole?
would you still understand?

I start to choke on the memories, burning in my throat.

It's sad how strangers become friends, then yet again become strangers, all going our separate ways in life. Maybe in the haystack of life our pieces of straw may only brush once.
All that's left are imprints; sweet, sweet imprints.

It's like the feeling when you've finished the last m&m in the bag:

Empty.

spring is in the air

It feels like the sand is shifting beneath me.
And for once not because I'm sinking, but because I'm digging the hole.

I'm making a conscious effort to change for the better.

And even though it is ultimately for the good, it DOES feel like I'm being swallowed by mountains of choking sand. But, no pain no gain, right? (And Lucas don't reply saying no pain no pain.)

One thing that kind of gives me hope is that --
it's SPRING!

I'm sowing the seeds and for now the buds are small and insignificant...
But perservere through the wind and the rain and they'll be blossoms!

:D

Boxer

It's time to work a hell of a lot harder.

I've been kind of living life day to day, and now, I finally want to take life by the reigns and ride the hell out of it.

Now that I've cleared my eyes and mind, I have my mind on the goals and I am going to do whatever it takes to achieve them... a bit of self sacrifice is all.
My time, my effort, my sweat, my sleep, but in the end it hopefully will be all worth it.

I know this is short, but I need to sleep so I can really concentrate tomorrow.

"I will work harder" ~Boxer from Animal Farm

Sweet democracy no more

I know how you feel now, when they won't listen...
It's like they've made up their minds that they are 100% right and everyone else is 100% wrong 100% of the time, and that what they have to say is 100% more important than what you and me have to say.

That is why I'm 100% pissed.
Actually, that's an understatement.

Seriously, I don't care whether you teach me anymore or not. Honestly, I've wanted to quit for a while, too. But me leaving doesn't solve anything. You're going to go on, abusing your students. And none of them will say or do anything about it.

But I can't let this go on! If something's wrong, YOU FIX IT.

And I tried to very very nicely help you do that. All I even asked was for you to listen.

I came in here perfectly calm, perfectly contained, with the sole purpose for improving you for the sake of your students.

But the first thing you say when I bring the subject up, is:
I'M THE TEACHER. I DON'T LISTEN TO YOU. WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, TRYING TO TALK TO ME!?

Apparently, I'm supposed to bow down to your feet.
Apparently, what I have to say isn't worth more than a fleck of dust on the floor.
I might as well not exist!

But I'm no quitter. This is FAR from over.
And I won't do anything wrong. Unlike you, who pinched me. THAT FREAKING HURT.
In addition, THAT'S FREAKING ILLEGAL!

All I really want you to do is understand. And change for the benefit of EVERYONE. Including yourself. Do you know how many people quit because you wouldn't stop telling them that they sucked and were stupid and should stop dancing? (this is not an exaggeration)

For one, we wouldn't all hate you anymore.
And you would have more business.
And the world would be a happier place.

Unfortunately, it's harder than it sounds...

Make love, not war

I can't count the number of times I've used the word hate.

"I hate homework."
"I hate life."
"I hate you."

Do I ever really mean it? No.

I'm going to confess that I have never, ever, wholeheartedly hated something.
Because everything has a reason, right? You can't blame them.

Soldiers killing other soldiers are only trying to save the people of their country.
A mother selling a child into labor is only trying to save the rest of the children.
People executing innocent people in Guantanamo, they're only taking orders.
And even Bush tried.
And plus, who elected him in the first place? We did. So it's not in our place to complain.

Complaining gets nothing done. Instead, let's act.

Instead of sitting on our buts whining that global warming will kill us all, stand up and turn off that light.
Instead of listening to reports on wolf slaughter, sign a petition.
(CLICKY CLICKY!)
Instead of just reading this blog, get out there and act.

Bittersweet

"If I could fall / into the sky / do you think time / would pass me by?"

          It's hard to put into words, but sometimes as I'm walking along a road and I see a heavy raincloud or gold-tinted leaf, it feels like I'm in Brookline again, for just a moment. I flicker back and forth in my mind, trying to deceive myself that I am still in Brookline - that the shriveled desert shrubs are actually great maples and oaks, that the crunching of dusty pebbles under my flip-flops is in reality a blanket of crispy leaves, and the breeze smells not of pesticide and freshly-mowed lawns but of dew and pine and autumn. 

          Any second now we'll drive away in our old red car to the nearest Dunkin Donuts and watch the frost blur the windowpanes, etching 'hello's with our fingers to a random passerby. Maybe if we feel like it we'll climb that boulder in your backyard again, and use it as our home base for the next top secret mission. This time around, I'll take in the faded chalk lines - the ghosts of our last hopscotch rendezvous, the click of our rollerblades in each crack of pavement as we try out that new trick Amanda showed us yesterday... I'll imprint every vine of twining ivy up our brick walls, all our pet ladybugs hiding in the pine, every wafting aroma of apple pie into my heart... and hopefully this time goodbye won't be so bittersweet.

"You are here in my heart and / my heart will go on, and on"

reach for the S T A R S

It's no perfect world, I know.
Kids get kidnapped, purses get stolen, innocent people are killed on a daily basis... and that's just the start of it.

But that doesn't mean we can't try to make this world a better place. Just because the reality is that bad things are happening and we can't possibly stop them all doesn't mean we have to sit back and watch them happen. If that were the case we'd all still be sitting in our caves digging our faces into a freshly-killed deer.

It's these hopes, these dreams, these aspirations that help us thrive in the bleakest of circumstances, hoping that one day we will reach something bigger than us.
And oftentimes it's the people who embody these dreams that change the world.

Fact: On July 20th, 1969, Neil Armstrong stepped onto the moon.
But they couldn't have done it without every mechanics and astronaut, the extensive money and research and care that went into it - all when they were told, no, it‘s impossible.

"Be the change you wish to see in the world" ~Gandhi

And essentially, that's what life is. It's striving to be something more than bonds of oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, and phosphorus. Something that will leave an imprint on the world, even when the physical body is long gone.