I can has talent.

Seriously, I'm talented. I mean, how many people do you know who can get eyeliner on their eye without even meaning to? I know, right? That's fucking talent, there. I'm thinking that maybe next time, I'll do it on purpose.*

*except not, because it's actually kind of really uncomfortable.

Stuff

It's actually pretty nice to be home. I mean, I miss my Champlain people a wicked lot, but it's just really relaxing here. It's nice not to have to do anything. So, I've just been hanging out and writing. I actually got on a wicked roll last night and wrote about seven pages in two hours. (Okay, for most people that might be slow, but I'm special and for me, that's fast :p) I'm not saying what it's about yet, though... not yet.
Anyway, I feel like I should actually post something of substance. Sooo I'll post a poem I wrote a while (and by 'while,' I mean like months... it's actually kinda wicked old. From, like, last April or something) ago...

The Sun

The Sun sees a lot during the day,
when he’s on top and gleaming
white fire, when he’s the one with power

(except for when the clouds try to cover him with their smoke.
Oh my God, he often thought,
he doesn’t consider himself particularly violent, but he’d kill them if he could.)

When everything is bright, he
sees people moving
quickly
slowly
laughing
silent
talking
lying.
It’s interesting, but so
busy.
And, really, he’s busy, too,
trying to keep the warm places warm and the cold places cold.

When he starts to fall,
he can lean back and
watch
his little world as
vibrant pink and sherbet ribbons chase away the blue of the sky.
He can watch people be people,
running in the forests of the grass
making footprints in the sand like glaciers
laughing
joking
dancing
sitting
eating
watching him right back.

It's Christmas! :D (and I should become a crack dealer)

Except not really!!! But at Feeley, we're doing all of our presents tonight, so it's like Christmas. Toes.

It's really pretty- my mom gave me a little fake christmas tree for the dorm, so we (well, I) have it all decorated for Christmas, and we have a ton of presents under them. I mean, half of them are for our families, but it looks wicked pretty. I'm so stoked for tonight. The things I bought are pretty small, but over break I'm going to knit them all scarves and such, so it'll be more then. AAANND I'm excited :)

Flying

(This is probably not that good, since I don't tend to be that good at poems, but yeah.)

The first time she
flew she didn’t know it. She thought she was
asleep and she wasn’t but she thought she was and
sometimes
that’s all you need. So, she
flew
flew out the window without
bothering to open it. The world was foggy
dark but she could still make out the tiny
yellow flower dots on the ground and she
fell she
landed in the daytime.
There was a boy and he started walking to her through the dew and sun
but then everything
stopped and she was alone and
couldn’t tell that she wasn’t lost.

The second time she flew she didn’t fly and
wasn’t asleep.
She was in the kitchen, putting apples and cheddar together when the
wooden door knocked and it was the
boy and he stood there, and she didn’t
wake up. His mouth opened but there wasn’t anything to say.
She held her apple and
watched as he watched her, and as he
walked away.

The third time she flew, it was a
wish. She sat at the white table in the
white room, filling out taxes or paying bills or
applying to a job so that she could do those things, and she
thought, no, I want a
castle and
the fountain of youth and to
fly. So she shut her eyes and in her mind
she did. Behind her eyes she saw
herself, dancing like a ripple above the blue
grey ocean, salt spray rushing through her, not
touching her, and she wanted to go there. She got
up and pushed the white chair under the
white table and stepped outside. She
stretched her arms out in the sun and she
felt the gold all around her and she thought she
saw the boy but then
he was nowhere, and she wondered if people could
think themselves invisible.

When she went to bed that night, she said,
tomorrow I’ll fly, and find the boy or a
castle, and I’ll stay there
forever. It will be
Beautiful. But when she woke into her dream,
she didn’t know. She didn’t know
why there was smoke everywhere or
why unrecognizable expressions didn’t
recognize, or maybe even see
her sitting in the middle of the crowded grey road and holding
clutching to herself and then there was the
boy and he said, do you want to be a
cloud? And she said,
yes.

"fml lol"

So, apparently, there are only 50 or so fiction writers in the US who are able to make a living off their writing. It's probably bad, but I find this (the fact that I'm never going to have any money, ever) extremely funny.

Rainy Day

The rain's really nice when you're not forced to be outside (or productive.) It's cozy. I mean, I get to just sit on my bed, surrounded by homework (which I'm toes not doing... I mean, what's cozy and happy about working? Nothing.) and listen to the rain. I'm thinking of maybe watching a movie until Velvet gets here, but I might not even do that. Right now, the beauty of the rain's enough.

There's a tiny porch with a roof right under the windows in front of me, so I get to hear the rain drops landing and bouncing especially loudly. If I got up and opened the window shades, I could even see it, but I'm feeling too lazy. Today's an extremely lazy day. It's kind of spectacular.

I love the way the cars sound, as they splash past in the wet. They almost sound like thunder, but you know there's life inside. It's a moody feeling, but somehow extremely content. I love being in cars during rain storms. There's something incredible about being safe and dry and warm, while only inches away from you, everything is freezing and wet, especially when you can see it all, falling on the cold glass above you. When you're in the car, and you pass by soaking trees and houses with lights on, and you are so comfortable that you might as well be in bed with a million blankets over you, everything feels perfect. Especially when it's, as it is now, just starting to get dark. Later, you'll have to get out of the warmth and into the rain, running and laughing with your keys to the front door, but you don't think about that now. You just think about how content you are with how you are in the world. And maybe about making some hot chocolate.

Tapes n' Butter

I've been a really bad blogger lately. Sorry about that. I've been wicked busy, what with going to Meg's house, Halloween festivities, other festivities, and too much homework.

It was all kind of awesome (except for the homework) (and certain other things).

Did you know that in Lyndonville, Vermont, you can still buy VHS tapes? I mean, I haven't seen those for sale since like 1990. Basically. Oh, and they also sell butter shaped like turkey. It's pretty legit.