Rainbow Pie

Do you remember gym class in elementary school when the slightly androgynous, white haired teacher who swished and swooshed with every move she made in her Adidas track outfit would pull out the oversized tarp that was sectioned to look like a flat rainbow pie? One slice of the giant cloth was dark green, the next blue, the next red, the next bright yellow. Ms. Martin would lead all of her little waddling students who would form a human chain to the blacktop on the nicest of spring days. Then she would unfold the tarp on the sparkling asphalt to reveal tiny holes at the edge of the rainbow pie for all of the tiny hands to cling to. On the count of three, knuckles turning white with anticipation, you raise the pie to the sky, hurry underneath and wait for the wind to gently carry it down around your shoulders. For the six whole seconds you're waiting for the foreign touch of the soft cotton cloth on your shoulders, you take notice of the small bursts of warm sun coming through the worn holes. All of your classmates huddled together, exploding with smiling innocence blush with blue and yellow. And then it happens. The quiet parachute lands, tiptoeing on the highest points of your exposed skin, winding all the way around. Hugging you, the rainbow pie is everything you could want. Colorful, thrilling and a gentle touch.

More then ten years later, the rainbow pie is entering my life once again, except this time I can hug him back without having the fragile tarp collapse between my squeeze. Everything is in the open with this, stretched out on the blacktop exposed. I hold his hand in mine, knuckles turning white with satisfaction. When I quick run under the tarp as its suspended high in the sky, the sun breaks through the openings. However this natural light comes to me in the form of his jokes, warm on my neck. And his energy, reflecting vibrant blue and yellow on my cheeks. As we lay, blankets guarding our legs, his hands fall to me, fingers tiptoeing through my hair and down the side of my face, winding all the way around. This is everything I could want.

Metafive

She ran swift with particular steps being careful as to not splatter mud onto her fresh whites. The cold November rain acted as a sheet, suffocating her lungs every time she inhaled. "Breathe deeper," the young woman told herself each time the faucet in the sky would open up. She had wished that which ever God controlled such things would cut her some slack and turn the hot water on for a few minutes, that way she could relax and wash away the chill. Little did she know the Plumbing God was away on vacation and the hot water heater was broken. All she could do was run, swiftly. Without messing up her shoes cause they were her last pair of whites and they kind of go good with a lot of outfits. So she ran. For three weeks. Just as the icy sheet began to form a noose around the young woman's neck that began spiraling up around her face, she was able to see a sliver of light coming from a new house off the side of the road. Overjoyed to find cover, the young woman approached the home with caution, nervous as to what might be inside. Pushing open the door, the young woman was greeted with everything familiar, starting with two tall Starbucks beverages sitting on the coffee table. One Chai Tea Latte and one seasonal Peppermint Mocha. The tiny quirks and accents of the open room seemed to set it apart from any other house she'd ever been in before. A tiny replica of a Rolls-Royce sat on a shelf next to a ripped first edition of On the Road. Although nobody else appeared to be in the house, the young woman felt like someone was sharing the space with her. She was comfortable.

Still shivering from the heavy rain, the young woman walked over to the ready fireplace, lit a match and let the chill fade away. As the orange glow lit up the entire downstairs, the young woman stripped out of her layers and settled down on the fringed rug that welcomed the heat. Stretched out on the plush carpet, she let her fingers run through the tassels at the edge until both her hands and the fringe became tangled. Holding hands with the rug, she felt sheltered.

At five in the morning, the young woman woke from her temporary slumber, fingers still knotted in the hands of the carpet. She followed the obvious luminescence from the window to the back porch. The hard rain had disappeared hours before taking the burden with it. All the young woman saw when she stepped into the air was her breath fogging up her vision and a dizzy moon. With the same hand that held onto the carpet so tight, the young woman kissed the giddy night. All was right.

Assembly Line

I've been putting off writing anything because I wanted something great to happen first. But nothing great has happened. Not even anything good. The past three weeks I haven't been able to breathe. I don't find any time to do what I want because all I have time for is class, homework, class again, homework again and dinner. At least I can eat. And nap (not the sleep kind). This shit blows. I wanna liveeeeee motherfucker. Not do homework 24/7. And I think since I constantly reject hangouts, I've started to slowly turn friends away. You know goddamn well I don't want that. About an hour ago, I entered a funk and I have no idea how to escape. On top of that, Maxey diagnosed me and I have a disorder. I've had the disorder since I can remember. Raw. I'm fucked. Stay away from me!

Things that aren't premium:
- TWO offers that I can't do anything about because I am too considerate. I am the WRONG person to do this to, assholes.
- Volcanoes on my face.
- I can't breathe.
- Remember when I used to twist wave? STOP BEING A DICKHOLE WHO CAN'T KEEP IT IN HIS PANTS!! >:o
- May is right around the corner... I can think of three reasons why I will cry. No more teenager, that time when you graduate and I will miss everything you are and how you've become one of my closest, most special friends! and that time that the other one will graduate and he won't know how great it could have been.

black slacks.

I don't feel like writing. So much has happened since I last said anything but nothing seems poetic enough to tell about. Ooohh, except the POETRY event I attended... :) That's poetic, right? That Saturday was incredible. Everything was perfect from the weather to the words to the crepes to sitting in the backseat effin' up da seatbelts. I wish I could relive that day and that night. I'm not feeling any metaphors. I'm not necessarily sleepy, I just think my head isn't in it right now. It was. And now it's not. Everytime I go on any website or even look to my left, I see a Free People magazine or ad and I'm reminded that I have no money to afford beautiful clothes like that in the magazine. But then I'm reminded again that I am unique and wear weird clothes that don't cost a lot and that puts me at ease. I want to go camping this weekend so I can at least say I did it and it didn't involve my parents. I can be an adult in the woods. I lied. I'm sleepy. I'm growing closer to friends and falling away from others.

Metafour

I gotta get over this funk. This obstacle. There are other roads out there if only I'd allow myself to follow them. I would like to think I've been on a dirt path this whole time, unaware of what might be in front of me. Woods all around with old gravel and dust kicking up under my shoes. I kinda like the idea of not knowing what old house this dirt path leads to. A house with twenty-five rooms, all waiting for me to open the doors and expose the secrets. A home with grass growing so tall, strangling the ideas from leaking out into the real world. I can't help that I feel more comfortable taking the risk. I feel obligated to take care of the overgrown grass and open every door to every room because maybe the house will understand that I'm the one who holds the right size key and the proper lawn mower. This house may be racked with termites eating away at the wooden beams keeping the structure intact, but I'd almost rather take the plunge with the support. I could choose to travel down the newly paved road because it's safe and has reflectors on the broken lines. It'll lead to a newly furnished house with a good sense of humor and a substantial library. Even though the house is secure with the thermostat set at a comfortable temperature, the bedroom doors are all open and a pile of fresh grass clippings sit clumped together by the garbage can. The mystery isn't there and neither are the butterflies.

I'm not finished.

You.

I have adjusted.
I'm not happy.
I don't do my work to the best of my ability.
I have Kanye West singing to me.
I've got bruises on my shins.
I have an empty stomach.
I developed a sense for scary dreams.
I've developed a sense for dreams with signs.
I wear more mascara.
I bit the skin around all my fingers because I'm stressed.
I have a band-aid on one finger.
I have lower abdominal cramps.
I have friends.
I know how to art.
I don't know how to speak up in class.
I do know how to hug those I love.
I have Journey singing to me.
I have a sense of humor.
I have a personality.
I have to poop.
I put twenty pounds of clay on my face yesterday.
I want to have more.
I have too much.
I, I, I.
You, You, You.
Me.

Amber Waves and Spacious Skies

Just in case.... I am slightly dizzy right now. After having re-read two very insightful and inspirational letters from a stranger and a good friend, I sat up to a wobbly, unstable world. I think maybe just a lot of blood cells swam up to my brain all at once. That might have been because I was hanging over my bed upside down, mimicking a cave dwelling mammal while I was reading said letters. But either way, I'm a bit dizzy, and really cold. I hope I haven't contracted any sicknesses since I've returned to school cause that would just be one hell of a Debbie Downer. The icy rain today managed to soak through every layer of me, and I think I can conclude that it is at least partly the reason for my permanent shiver.

Last weekend I went to a carnival with Ryan and about ten other fantastic people. That was the kind of fun I was looking for, exactly. Three hours before I departed in the back of Matt's car with Ryan riding shotgun, I had no idea what the night would hold for me. But then Ryan and Rose let me in on the happenings of the carnival/firework combo that was only about twenty minutes away from FDU. I went on a journey with Ryan to the Himalaya, ya know, the ride that goes in a circle super fast so that you end up with half of your ass on the other person's lap, all the while loud club music is bouncing off of the flashy neon lights that are bouncing off of your fixed grin. It was almost as good as challenging Elyse, Rose and Shawnsy to the Sizzler. The fireworks were the best part of the night, however. In honor of Labor Day, the overcrowded carnival placed on firm ground decided to shoot off a half hour worth of pyrotechnics. Patriotic sounds blasted over the loudspeakers as all the rides stopped turning and as colors blew up the sky. In the beginning, the worked fire was nothing impressive, but after about three minutes, a beautiful array of yellow starbursts and blue fading crackles made their way into each and everyone's reflected gaze. We made references all night to The Sandlot, especially when "America the Beautiful" came on and we all felt just as humble as Squints as he looked up at the magic booming in the sky.

So far, this second year of school is aight in my book. There are some friends who I'm disappointed in for their lack of contact. There is one person I'm disappointed in for lack of contact. But that person is doing enough to keep me hanging on. Let's just hope I don't hang for too long before something amazing happens. Other than that, classes can suck it but my lovely bunch of weird friends do not have to. Also, I absolutely LOVE meeting new people. I have been meeting and connecting with people so often and I don't think I could ask for anything better than that.

You Are Beautiful.