K so I know I've said this before, but their stuff is so adorable!
oh and I found an amazing photographer, here's her blog where she has some of her work
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
A little sadness
So I didn't make it into the top choir at my school. And since I found out, I've felt like I wasn't appreciated for my talent... and then I felt that maybe, I wasn't as good as I thought.
But then I remembered today.
I love music.
Not because I can sing amazing...
but because it takes me to a place worth going.
But then I remembered today.
I love music.
Not because I can sing amazing...
but because it takes me to a place worth going.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
I need you
I need you.
I need you like a child needs a father as she grows.
Like an adolescent needs a brother as she learns.
Like a woman needs a man as she loves.
I need you like I needed all of the men in my life when they weren't there.
Maybe that's where I get the strength my family speaks of.
Maybe I get it from all of those moments I needed someone.........
and they weren't there
They're never there.
Will you break the cycle?
Will you be there when I need you?
When you're not, will I hate you?
But does it really matter?
Because even though you're not here now, I still feel you out there.
So I guess you're already breaking the cycle even as you exist.
Thank you
But I still miss you. I still need you. I still want to see your face.
Human greed makes me want more. Makes me feel that feeling your existence is not enough. That I need to see you. See your eyes and feel.
feel what I've wanted to feel for a long, long time.
At war with myself
This guy, the one who showed me the other side of myself, he is.... amazing. He's kind and funny and quiet.
I am at war with myself. I think like I previously said, that although he has characteristics of the man I would want to marry, he is not that man. Yet I still find myself thinking about him.
Wanting to share with him moments I had only given to myself before, not thinking that maybe, there was someone I could share them with.
Someone I wanted to share them with.
I am at war with myself.
Do I want to share these moments with him because I know that he will understand? Because he is the first that I want to share them with? Or is it because I am supposed to share these moments with him?
Because he is more than a friend?
Or because he is the first that could be more than a friend?
If the former, then.... wow. : ) what will happen? I know I am strong enough now where I was weak before. And hopefully, it will blossom on it's own. If it doesn't, then is the latter isn't it?
If the latter..... I need to stop. and back away from him.
And once I think it through, it is like I said at first. That he is just an example of what I want in my husband.
So I guess there is no war?
Oh I wish it could be that easy.
That he could be... the one... lol. That he could be.... more to me than a friend.
How easy would that be?
So easy.
So, so easy.
And so good.
But life is never that easy.....
not for me.
Why can't this one thing, this one thing that will mean so much to me, be easy?
Everything else is so much harder.
Everything.
Why can't this one thing, this one thing that will be so much to me, that is already so much to me, be easy?
Like coming home..
The journey may be hard and tiresome and horrid,
but the actual event,
that moment where you step in the door,
or over the border and just.... feel .....
That you've finally come home.
That's how love should feel.
Like a gentle sigh in the dark of the night when the body has rid itself of its last burdens.
Like two hands slipping into one another.
Like locked eyes and free smiles.
Like soft hugs and whispered hellos.
That's what love should be.
Where are you?
Why has it been so long?
I need you.
I am at war with myself. I think like I previously said, that although he has characteristics of the man I would want to marry, he is not that man. Yet I still find myself thinking about him.
Wanting to share with him moments I had only given to myself before, not thinking that maybe, there was someone I could share them with.
Someone I wanted to share them with.
I am at war with myself.
Do I want to share these moments with him because I know that he will understand? Because he is the first that I want to share them with? Or is it because I am supposed to share these moments with him?
Because he is more than a friend?
Or because he is the first that could be more than a friend?
If the former, then.... wow. : ) what will happen? I know I am strong enough now where I was weak before. And hopefully, it will blossom on it's own. If it doesn't, then is the latter isn't it?
If the latter..... I need to stop. and back away from him.
And once I think it through, it is like I said at first. That he is just an example of what I want in my husband.
So I guess there is no war?
Oh I wish it could be that easy.
That he could be... the one... lol. That he could be.... more to me than a friend.
How easy would that be?
So easy.
So, so easy.
And so good.
But life is never that easy.....
not for me.
Why can't this one thing, this one thing that will mean so much to me, be easy?
Everything else is so much harder.
Everything.
Why can't this one thing, this one thing that will be so much to me, that is already so much to me, be easy?
Like coming home..
The journey may be hard and tiresome and horrid,
but the actual event,
that moment where you step in the door,
or over the border and just.... feel .....
That you've finally come home.
That's how love should feel.
Like a gentle sigh in the dark of the night when the body has rid itself of its last burdens.
Like two hands slipping into one another.
Like locked eyes and free smiles.
Like soft hugs and whispered hellos.
That's what love should be.
Where are you?
Why has it been so long?
I need you.
Friday, April 17, 2009
stuff
I've been on night walks the past two days. I've walked the same place each time. There's one tree that I pass.
The outline of its branches are invisible against the soft glow of the street light. It makes the branches look like one big spider web with a ball of light for a center.
Other words were supposed to come into my slim little fingers and onto the sticky keyboard.
I want to go outside. I want the air to be warm with a warm breeze. I want to go to a great field that's nearby. I want to lay on it and let the dew cool my hot skin. I want to talk until my eyes burn when I blink and my mouth is weary and my cheeks hurt from smiling. I want to laugh and know that someone lays next to me.
I met someone. They understood me like no one has understood. They showed a new perspective. A new way to see myself.
I want that in my eternal companion. I don't think he is the person I met, but he showed a characteristic that I will look for in my husband.
Because of him, and because of the new things that happened, I have attained two new ways to see myself.
The first, I've hinted at.
I can see God in everything. I love nature because it reminds me of God. This allows me to love all seasons. I do not know if this also allows me to live anywhere. This is a complicated thing, because the spirit of a place may not agree with me, and also the people may not be very.... positive
The second, I've learned through my family.
I am strong. I have a deep reservoir of strength hidden within me. My mom does not think that I know it's depth, but I don't know about that. I feel the strength within me, it echoes cool and peaceful, but that does not mean that I am ready for what is to come.
That is the other thing. My family and myself have always felt that something big is coming. That something is going to happen that will change everything. Because of this feeling, we try to prepare ourselves. My sister thinks that because of my strength, I am ready for what is to come. But I don't know. I guess I do not have that much belief in myself. I feel that, although I do have immense strength, it will not be enough for what is to come. That there are things I still need to learn. Lessons that need to be taught and things that need to be said.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
snipets
Some of them are quite depressing. The first one is a story in India's past I heard on the tv today.
I small child, a young prince, clinging to his father's clothes. He is torn away from his father. Gruesome sounds are heard over his wailing sobs. The child is given mass amounts of opium. Dreams swirl in his head. Slowly, the dreams become more chaotic, more bright in color.... until there is nothing more.
I woman lounges on the sand. Curling her toes deep into the sand's warmth. Her head tips back and her eyes close. The shadow of a smile appears on the corners of her mouth.
A pale faced girl dances in the snow, her movements not of this culture. She sings a haunting melody under her breath. It warbles with an odd clarity. The viewer suddenly has a memory triggered by the sight of the spinning girl. Of a cold desert at night. A bright fire and drums. Turbans and beards and warbling voices. The girl lifts her arms and tilts back her head to the moon and spins, her coat flaring out behind her. The viewer whispers.
"India"
The boy is silent and the girl's heart pounds. She knows he understands, but why does he understand? Is he just being nice? Finally, he whispers, "If I kissed you, would you feel anything?"
"yes."
A burly dog sits placidly in the snow and cold. A boy stands beside it. He stares out into a thick forest. His eyes strain, but he cannot see what he seeks. He doesn't even know what he seeks, just that it is glorious and beautiful.
The girl puts her back to him. "I have not let myself love anyone. But you have found your way into my heart."
"then trust me with its care and we both will be happy for eternities."
A mother stares down at the lifeless body in her arms. A fifth child in the deep earth. Her spirit weakens once more and her knees buckle. She cannot wonder why. She lowers the child into the grave much smaller than most. When the deep earth accepts her offering she seals the grave with her tears, bending over the soft mound and digging thin fingers into the dirt.
A woman sits in the window alcove. "Come see!" The husband comes over quietly to bend down to his wife's level. "What beauty do you see?" She directs his line of sight and reveals the glow of the moon upon a tree covered with snow. "Do you see the way the moon's light is slightly blue in color and makes the unmarked barks seem black as shadows? Do you see the way it glows like a moon all on its own?" he sees it and his heart leaps. "What glory you find!" He kisses her fingers and sits with her in the little alcove.
A lady sings. So soulful and sorrowful all who hear her cry in despair. Her vowels croon and her consonants softly chafe. She sings. She sounds so delicate, sounds as if at the end of the song, she will splinter into a million little pieces. The saxophone breaks into her song and begins a solo. She steps back into shadows and nothing is seen of her again as the saxophone finishes the song with its smooth tones.
Little wet tears on a baby's shoulder.
I small child, a young prince, clinging to his father's clothes. He is torn away from his father. Gruesome sounds are heard over his wailing sobs. The child is given mass amounts of opium. Dreams swirl in his head. Slowly, the dreams become more chaotic, more bright in color.... until there is nothing more.
I woman lounges on the sand. Curling her toes deep into the sand's warmth. Her head tips back and her eyes close. The shadow of a smile appears on the corners of her mouth.
A pale faced girl dances in the snow, her movements not of this culture. She sings a haunting melody under her breath. It warbles with an odd clarity. The viewer suddenly has a memory triggered by the sight of the spinning girl. Of a cold desert at night. A bright fire and drums. Turbans and beards and warbling voices. The girl lifts her arms and tilts back her head to the moon and spins, her coat flaring out behind her. The viewer whispers.
"India"
The boy is silent and the girl's heart pounds. She knows he understands, but why does he understand? Is he just being nice? Finally, he whispers, "If I kissed you, would you feel anything?"
"yes."
A burly dog sits placidly in the snow and cold. A boy stands beside it. He stares out into a thick forest. His eyes strain, but he cannot see what he seeks. He doesn't even know what he seeks, just that it is glorious and beautiful.
The girl puts her back to him. "I have not let myself love anyone. But you have found your way into my heart."
"then trust me with its care and we both will be happy for eternities."
A mother stares down at the lifeless body in her arms. A fifth child in the deep earth. Her spirit weakens once more and her knees buckle. She cannot wonder why. She lowers the child into the grave much smaller than most. When the deep earth accepts her offering she seals the grave with her tears, bending over the soft mound and digging thin fingers into the dirt.
A woman sits in the window alcove. "Come see!" The husband comes over quietly to bend down to his wife's level. "What beauty do you see?" She directs his line of sight and reveals the glow of the moon upon a tree covered with snow. "Do you see the way the moon's light is slightly blue in color and makes the unmarked barks seem black as shadows? Do you see the way it glows like a moon all on its own?" he sees it and his heart leaps. "What glory you find!" He kisses her fingers and sits with her in the little alcove.
A lady sings. So soulful and sorrowful all who hear her cry in despair. Her vowels croon and her consonants softly chafe. She sings. She sounds so delicate, sounds as if at the end of the song, she will splinter into a million little pieces. The saxophone breaks into her song and begins a solo. She steps back into shadows and nothing is seen of her again as the saxophone finishes the song with its smooth tones.
Little wet tears on a baby's shoulder.
Monday, April 13, 2009
passenger and saved
wow.
I love these songs. Well, mostly save us and passenger seat... but yeah. they are amazing and when I listen to them, they feel like water running over burned hands. cool and healing. Save us prepares me for passenger seat and half acre makes me feel connected..
so here's the words to passenger seat
"Passenger Seat"
I roll the window down
And then begin to breathe in
The darkest country road
And the strong scent of evergreen
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home.
Then looking upwards
I strain my eyes and try
To tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home.
"do they collide?"
I ask and you smile.
With my feet on the dash
The world doesn't matter.
When you feel embarrassed then I'll be your pride
When you need directions then I'll be the guide
For all time.
For all time.
I love these songs. Well, mostly save us and passenger seat... but yeah. they are amazing and when I listen to them, they feel like water running over burned hands. cool and healing. Save us prepares me for passenger seat and half acre makes me feel connected..
so here's the words to passenger seat
"Passenger Seat"
I roll the window down
And then begin to breathe in
The darkest country road
And the strong scent of evergreen
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home.
Then looking upwards
I strain my eyes and try
To tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home.
"do they collide?"
I ask and you smile.
With my feet on the dash
The world doesn't matter.
When you feel embarrassed then I'll be your pride
When you need directions then I'll be the guide
For all time.
For all time.
shining
For one night my life was all color and goodness and whispers and smiles and laughs and bad dance moves.
For one night I saw, in an inkling of a moment, something beautiful and good and wonderful.
The joy in that night. The young smiles and close words.
The innocence of that night will live on within me even while memory fades and I cannot remember it.
The goodness of that night... the truth.. the unsuspecting goodness of it all
I convince myself that it wasn't as amazing as I thought it was....
and then something reminds me of it....
a picture...
a word...
And then I'm trying to learn how to appreciate that night... without making it more than it was and not expecting anything to come of it's goodness
Try to convince myself that it was one bright, shining moment to remember for the rest of my life....
And not something that hints at a future that is real and tangible and true... and right....
I'd rather be proven wrong... be shone that it was a night that would hint at something real and good and right and not something less... not just a shining moment, but something more
Than convince my self it is and be proven wrong... be shone that it was just one moment.... one shining moment.... and nothing more.
For one night I saw, in an inkling of a moment, something beautiful and good and wonderful.
The joy in that night. The young smiles and close words.
The innocence of that night will live on within me even while memory fades and I cannot remember it.
The goodness of that night... the truth.. the unsuspecting goodness of it all
I convince myself that it wasn't as amazing as I thought it was....
and then something reminds me of it....
a picture...
a word...
And then I'm trying to learn how to appreciate that night... without making it more than it was and not expecting anything to come of it's goodness
Try to convince myself that it was one bright, shining moment to remember for the rest of my life....
And not something that hints at a future that is real and tangible and true... and right....
I'd rather be proven wrong... be shone that it was a night that would hint at something real and good and right and not something less... not just a shining moment, but something more
Than convince my self it is and be proven wrong... be shone that it was just one moment.... one shining moment.... and nothing more.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
lillies and orchids.
I want to paint.
To take something in my hands... something that will fill my hands until it spills over onto the floor and creates something beautiful.
Twisted words and conjured up meanings.
Sometimes I feel empty.
Sometimes I feel so full... nothing else could mean anything to me
Words...
they are energy...
but they are not substantial.
I cannot hold them in my hands and feel their essence.
But
paints...
clay...
earth...
I am mostly an energy kind of girl.
My medium is usually things that have energy,
but not a substance that you can feel with your hands....
Writing... music...
But
clay...
earth...
paints...
I may not be able to express myself with them as well....
but they...
You can hold them in your hands and know...
just...
...know
So really, I want to take a few canvases... and get a hold of a studio...
and pour color into my hands.
doesn't that sound.... magic?
pour color into my hands.
and just stand on one canvas.
just stand there...
With the colors swirling all around me.
Letting it touch my face.
My toes.
My legs.
Paint everywhere.
paint in all colors swirling. Never really losing their original color, but still mixing where they touch each other to create colors no one can describe
Except maybe God
I'd watch the paint pour and splash.
I'd watch it....
I'd smear my hands across the canvas on a stand. I'd crash my hands onto another canvas on the floor.
I'd listen to the beat of my heart in the quiet of the studio
I'd listen to my breath rasp and the paint splat where I thrash it onto the canvas.
I would cry.
and I would paint.
and I would feel the color in my hands.
and think of lillies and orchids
To take something in my hands... something that will fill my hands until it spills over onto the floor and creates something beautiful.
Twisted words and conjured up meanings.
Sometimes I feel empty.
Sometimes I feel so full... nothing else could mean anything to me
Words...
they are energy...
but they are not substantial.
I cannot hold them in my hands and feel their essence.
But
paints...
clay...
earth...
I am mostly an energy kind of girl.
My medium is usually things that have energy,
but not a substance that you can feel with your hands....
Writing... music...
But
clay...
earth...
paints...
I may not be able to express myself with them as well....
but they...
You can hold them in your hands and know...
just...
...know
So really, I want to take a few canvases... and get a hold of a studio...
and pour color into my hands.
doesn't that sound.... magic?
pour color into my hands.
and just stand on one canvas.
just stand there...
With the colors swirling all around me.
Letting it touch my face.
My toes.
My legs.
Paint everywhere.
paint in all colors swirling. Never really losing their original color, but still mixing where they touch each other to create colors no one can describe
Except maybe God
I'd watch the paint pour and splash.
I'd watch it....
I'd smear my hands across the canvas on a stand. I'd crash my hands onto another canvas on the floor.
I'd listen to the beat of my heart in the quiet of the studio
I'd listen to my breath rasp and the paint splat where I thrash it onto the canvas.
I would cry.
and I would paint.
and I would feel the color in my hands.
and think of lillies and orchids
Friday, April 3, 2009
Falling away
So I basically stopped hanging out with people about three two or three (maybe even four) months ago.
I mean, I'd still talk to them during school
...but...
I'd say no if they told me about a new thing they were gonna do over the weekend or that night...
and it's got to the point that.....
They don't even bother to ask me now.
I never thought I'd miss not having a social life....
but now.. I just don't know
And the thing is....
Even if they did ask me... I'd probably say no anyway.
Most of the people in this group I can't even tolerate their personality in strong doses.
So I guess it's all for the best........
But I still feel a part of me drift away......
And some part of me misses it.
I mean, I'd still talk to them during school
...but...
I'd say no if they told me about a new thing they were gonna do over the weekend or that night...
and it's got to the point that.....
They don't even bother to ask me now.
I never thought I'd miss not having a social life....
but now.. I just don't know
And the thing is....
Even if they did ask me... I'd probably say no anyway.
Most of the people in this group I can't even tolerate their personality in strong doses.
So I guess it's all for the best........
But I still feel a part of me drift away......
And some part of me misses it.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
how can I keep from singing update
So the lyrics I put before were so not the right ones. But now that I know it better,(the song I mean)I love it even more. The harmonies are almost more than I can bare.
arranged by ronald staheli
My life flows on in endless song;
Above earth's lamentation
I hear the real though far-off hymn that hails a new creation.
Through all the tumult and the strife,
I hear that music ringing;
It sounds an echo in my soul:
How can I keep from singing.
My life flows on in endless song.
When tyrants tremble sick with fear and hear their death-knells ringing,
When friends rejoice both far and near,
How can I keep from singing.
In prison cell or dungeon vile
our thoughts to them are winging.
When dear friends by shame are undefiled,
How can I keep from singing.
If my joys and comforts die,
I know truth is living.
Tho' the darkness 'round me close,
How can I keep from singing.
No storm can shake,
while that Rock I am clinging,
since Love is Lord of heav'n and earth:
How can I keep from singing.
How can I keep from singing.
I lift my eyes,
the cloud grows thin,
I see the blue above it.
And day by day this pathway smooths,
since first I learned to love it.
The peace from love makes fresh my heart,
a song of hope is springing.
All things are mine since Truth I've found:
How can I keep from singing
All things are mine since Truth I've found:
How can I keep from singing.
How can I keep from singing,
from singing.
arranged by ronald staheli
My life flows on in endless song;
Above earth's lamentation
I hear the real though far-off hymn that hails a new creation.
Through all the tumult and the strife,
I hear that music ringing;
It sounds an echo in my soul:
How can I keep from singing.
My life flows on in endless song.
When tyrants tremble sick with fear and hear their death-knells ringing,
When friends rejoice both far and near,
How can I keep from singing.
In prison cell or dungeon vile
our thoughts to them are winging.
When dear friends by shame are undefiled,
How can I keep from singing.
If my joys and comforts die,
I know truth is living.
Tho' the darkness 'round me close,
How can I keep from singing.
No storm can shake,
while that Rock I am clinging,
since Love is Lord of heav'n and earth:
How can I keep from singing.
How can I keep from singing.
I lift my eyes,
the cloud grows thin,
I see the blue above it.
And day by day this pathway smooths,
since first I learned to love it.
The peace from love makes fresh my heart,
a song of hope is springing.
All things are mine since Truth I've found:
How can I keep from singing
All things are mine since Truth I've found:
How can I keep from singing.
How can I keep from singing,
from singing.
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