I haven't written in such a long time it's crazy! I've been really busy with my new school and adjusting so I kinda forgot about you guys...don't worry, I'm back now. I would like to bring up the subject that the Academy Awards are nearing (sort of) and that, in case you haven't noticed, there have been no good movies this year. I almost wouldn't be surprised if New Moon gets nominated for something....but I will be downright horrified Robert Pattinson gets nominated for Best Actor...and wins! The lack of good movies this year brings out a hope in me that some movies that wouldn't normally be given a second glance will now be brought into the spotlight. For instance, Drew Barrymore directed a very interesting movie called Whip It, which I'm sure you've all heard of, if not seen. It's about the sport Roller Derby and how one girl breaks free from her mother's old habits of beauty pageants to pursue this (Ellen Page). It's not your typical inspirational movie; she finds out the guy she likes is cheating on her and dumps him, the team does not win the championships, and although her mother lets her go to the championship game, she doesn't entirely support her daughter's choice. My hope is that this movie may get noticed by the Academy and therefore skyrocket Drew Barrymore's career of either acting or directing (she could go back to acting or continue directing) out of romantic comedies and into more serious stuff. Although she has never been my favorite actress or even close to the top of my list, her newest film gave me hope that she will either continue directing films like this and play a small part in them or she will start a whole new career of more advanced films.

Here's a new poem I wrote. I submitted it to my school's magazine, but I doubt it will get in. Anyway, here it is:

Me and the Sparrows

There are some things in life I cannot explain, he says through his tears
But why does he cry? He sings me lullabies
Which keep away the darkness and the crime, the monsters in the night
What could hurt him? Who would dare?
He is all that I am, and yet I am aware

That roses grow thorns to keep away the pain
A knife to a gun, a form of Novocain
A beautiful pattern, a hopeful lie
A source of protection in a chance to survive
Weaved around another,
Watching out for each other
But when the knife comes, they cannot hide
From the vases where the live out their last strides
Their beauty deceives them, that is where they go wrong
But if not, the cold will get them
And bring them down to the depths
Where they preside peacefully
And sing of the best summer yet

He walks me to the theater where I hide behind the curtain
And wait to perform a perfect sequence
I will smile wide but it is behind that smile I hide
All the grief and sorrow I see in his eyes
What makes him cry?
Am I not enough? Do I not try?
Later, he will sing me a song that keeps the fire alight
I never noticed the hidden meanings in them
But they were there, all along
All in one song

I capture the light to bring to you tonight
My net is long and I give a hard fight
But there is no light now
No one taught me how
So you can turn to the darkness
To get the glory you need
And when you are full of emptiness
You can come and see me
Cause I capture the light,
But not here, it is not right
To give you nothing
When you should have the world
But you are my watch
Letting me know how long I have to go
You are my butterfly
I catch you in my net
And I won't let you die
No I won't let you die
Not without the light
So stay with me tonight

I always stay with him, I always will, doesn't he know that?
Shhh, he tells me, and strokes my cheek
Let us not speak of what will surely make us bleak
I do not reside, and his eyes open wide
He screams out in pain of holding it all inside
And begins to cry as he tells me that I will die
I am emotionless, because I'm his butterfly
Yes I'm his butterfly
The cancer may take me, but it will not take me far from him
I do not need to live, but he cannot die
No he cannot die
Cause then so will his lullaby
So I tell him

It's me and the sparrows
We will fly high and seek the light
To catch it for you tonight
Yes, it's me and the sparrows
But I will use an arrow
To kill the light, to set it right
You won't have to chase it down
it will always be around
Even when I'm not, even when I'm gone
You won't have to remember me
Because you'll have the light
Oh yes, you'll have the light
I am your angel tonight.

Quote of the Post: Life is a verb.

Here's another poem:

Time

The lake is still, a shimmering glass mirror of time,

It tells no lies, what you see is what you get.

From my little cottage by the lake, I see everything:

Geese migrate, kids playing, time passing.

As I get older, I like to have proof of it too.

I see a little girl, no higher than my knee, toddling to the edge of her dock.

She stares down into the depths of the water, unaware of any danger that might exist.

For her mother’s hand holding hers tightly is a secure anchor, one that will always be there,

Safe and sound, forever.

But time changes everything, so that there is no forever.

It moves as quick as water through your fingers, disappearing as fast as you caught it,

Leaving you only with a distant memory of what it felt like to hold it, if only for an instant.

More water dribbles through and there she is again, around eight or so.

Her hair is a short strawberry mess, the red locks just hitting her shoulders,

Her face is dotted with freckles, her dimple smile full of gaps and crooked teeth.

She runs to the edge of the dock, stands for a moment, watching the currents around her,

Then she dives in, clothes and all, a perfect arc into the mirror.

She emerges, gasping for air, her hair shiny and longer than before.

She swims around, laughing and splashing, not having a care in the world.

I want to stop time and just keep this moment here, forever.

But time doesn’t wait for anyone.

Time is the glittering sequins in jazz costumes, catching the light for a moment of glory,

Then fading away, into a box in the attic, never to be seen again.

The shores of time rise and fall, and years later I see her again.

She bursts onto the dock, giddy and breathless, in a light blue summer dress.

Her strawberry hair is longer now, tumbling down her back,

She is taller, has the face of a young teenager, her smile accompanied by silver braces.

She is a young woman, not just playing with mother’s makeup but wearing it properly.

She turns around and smiles, and I see a boy her age join her.

He whispers something to her, and she nods slowly, slipping the dress over her head.

They dive into the water together, unclothed, for the world to see.

They splash and swim and around, giggling and flirting, learning and growing.

He leans closer to her and they kiss under the moon, their hands entwining in the shadows.

Someday, she will look back on that, when her life is far along,

And feel what she felt like in that moment, excited but nervous, unaware of time.

But time keeps moving, never stopping, even if no one notices.

Fleeting moment after fleeting moment, they add up, one drop at a time.

The lake stays the same as the girl grows older, and I see her time and time again:

When she is dressed in black on the dock, holding her sister’s and father’s hand,

But not her mother’s.

Drops of time stream down her cheeks as the coffin is dropped into the dark water.

The saddest time of all, the tears we cry, but try to dry, as time goes on.

When she is beautiful on purpose, her red hair done up, her makeup overdone,

Wearing a short stylish dress, covered in sequins, too many ruffles, and a corsage,

Her arm linked with a young man’s arm, smiling as the camera flashes again and again,

Capturing her beauty and the lake all in one shot.

But my favorite are times of calm, when the waters settle down for awhile,

When time seems to stay still and catch its breath, stopping to look behind.

When she sits out on the dock, in grungy jeans and an old shirt,

A book open in her lap, Her hair falling over her face as she reads page after page.

She is most beautiful in those moments, when she is not trying to be.

Time could have, in those moments, stirred something up, or just kept running,

But for some reason it stops when it sees her, learning and growing.

Eventually time shakes off its second of weakness and disappears in a blur,

But for an undeterminable amount of time, it notices the ways of nature.

She goes off to college, and years pass.

I watch every day to see if she’s back, but she is off on her own now.

I am an old woman when I see her once more, and this time makes me gasp.

A fully grown and matured woman, twenty-seven, steps out onto the dock,

A sea of white covers her freckly skin, the long ivory fabric making her a goddess.

The veil that covers her face cannot hide her beauty, or her happiness.

A man follows her, his eyes never drifting from hers, not even to take in the lake.

He saw it years ago, and even then only saw her as they swam together in the moonlight.

Her eyes are enough for him.

The rabbi that follows them starts off the service with a speech, but they don’t hear a word,

A whole conversation being spoken in those two pairs of eyes.

At last the vows are exchanged, and the veil is lifted, revealing her,

Revealing the little girl I saw all those years ago.

As they kiss, my eyes fill with tears and I’m overtaken by sadness and joy.

I never knew this girl, I don’t know her name, yet she means the world to me.

And seeing her grow up, well, I didn’t do anything, I just watched

As time worked its magic, making another miracle.


hopefully you didn't fall asleep.

Quote of the post: "People are always asking me what my lyrics mean. Well I say what any decent poet would say if you dared to ask him to analyze his work: if you see it, darling, then it's there." Freddie Mercury

I got over my writer's block, finally. So here is a new poems. It's really long....

His Eyes

He walks alone, books in hand, staring straight ahead.
He doesn’t notice anyone, even though all eyes go to him.
A guy like him could sit anywhere at lunch, yet he instead….
Opts to eat alone, and that for some reason makes him dim.

I’m dedicated.
I’m thorough.
I’m relentless. I’m strong.
I’m without sorrow.
I have hopes of tomorrow.
And I’m never wrong.

His attention is captivated by his books, always close by.
It is easy to tell how the book is just by his face:
A bored expression, a burst of laughter, a gasp of surprise.
I want to captivate his gaze, be the face his crystal eyes trace.

I’m hopeful.
I’m hesitant.
I’m curious. I’m worried.
I’m without reason.
I have thoughts of treason.
And I won’t be buried.

My careful steps lead me to the table where he sits.
Eyes burn into me as I ask him about A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
He slowly looks up at me and his clear eyes are lit.
They pour into me, a lighted dark tunnel, and I am ripped at the seam.

I’m overwhelmed.
I’m inspired.
I’m floating. I’m uncertain.
I’m without stability.
I have glimpses of tranquility.
And I’m behind the curtain.

We talk every day, and lunch is a shared meal.
I learn the sound of his laugh, the twinkle in his chandelier eyes.
He is like an orange, with a tough skin that has to be peeled.
Underneath, he’s full of sweet and fulfilling juice; an honest soul, nothing to hide.

I’m astounded.
I’m joyful.
I’m exhilarated. I’m content.
I’m without a trail.
I have no limits of where I can sail.
And it’s nothing anyone can prevent.

I skip through the halls everyday, as eyes burn through me.
They whisper, they wonder, and yet I don’t care.
We explore and laugh together, for the whole world to believe and to see.
What’s between us is more, a diamond to their mica, and of the sharp edges they are scared.

We are a pair.
We are a team.
We are chosen. We are endless.
We are without letters.
We have gifts from a better.
And we will take the test.

One day, I race to lunch to give him a hug.
But the seat next to his is taken, a blonde beauty chattering on.
He spills later that she’s just great, and he sits in a dreamy daze even though I tug.
I just stare into his sea-glass eyes, and try to look past the clouds for so long.

I’m shocked.
I’m torn.
I’m fallen. I’m above.
I’m without help.
I have no guide to who I yelp.
And I think I’m in love.

We all sit together now, a team of three instead of a team of two.
She’s all that he sees, a perfect ruby that shines red dots into his sparkling eyes.
I keep searching the past, desperate that it wasn’t a lie, fearful of the truth.
One look at his moonlight eyes, never looking at mine, and I want to die.

I’m the best friend.
I’m the helper.
I’m the companion. I’m the shoulder.
I’m without his attention.
I have a perfect view of his intentions.
And yet I refuse to be bolder.

I see them holding hands, passing notes and laughing together like we did.
I read one of them; the I heart you should have been mine to declare.
I saw their first kiss, his eyes of sunlight hitting water dulling as he closed his lids.
His locker is covered with her, her scent, her smile, and it is too much to bare.

I’m shivering.
I’m shaking.
I’m sobbing. I’m alone.
I’m without him.
I have no way of getting to the brim.
And all I can do is moan.

In science class we have to dissect a mouse, cutting apart it’s soul.
I look at the knife, it’s shininess reminds me of him, of his glassy eyes.
The knife is suddenly stained with blood, my blood, and he cries out as I am at last bold.
He finally sees me, and only me, my wishes fulfilled as I heave on last sigh.

I’m dead.
I’m gone.
I’m a whisper, to be repeated on and on.
I’m not without love, which I found.
He gave it to me, enough to keep me safe and sound.
And now he lives in the past, searching for answers.

Yes, he finally sees me, and I have his attention, as I am the one held.

let me know what you think.

Quote of the Post: "Stretching is hand out to catch the stars, he forgets the flowers at his feet."

So I finished Sarah Dessen's new book, "Along for the Ride." And guess what? It SUCKS! All of her books are pretty much about the same thing, a girl struggling to overcome her fears, with variations of course, and she always managed to make each one new and unique. But this one...well, it was a flop. There were parts where it got exciting and interesting, and I was holding my breath, hoping she would pull it off....but she didn't. She evened out those "good" parts with horrible parts that were exasperating and made me want to scream at her. The book was about how a girl, Auden, had always been very grown-up and had not done some normal kid things, like learning how to ride a bike and having food fights. Her parents pushed her to be good at school. Her parents got divorced years ago, and now her dad is remarried to a younger woman and they have a new baby. She decides to spend the summer with them at their house in Cape Cod. (This also is the setting for one of her other books, "Keeping the Moon." If you read her books carefully, you can see how she incorporates places and people in her other books into the book so in a way, they all tie together.) There, she meets Eli, a boy who also can't sleep at night, like her. They hang out at night and become friends...you get the idea. It's about her dealing with her parents divorce and realizing who she is. And Sarah Dessen does accomplish this...only in the most BORING way possible! I give it 2 stars for effort and a bit of creativity, but I discourage my non-existent followers from reading this book.

Quote of the Post: "Normal is not something to aspire to, it's something to get away from."

Did I tell you guys about the independent film i got cast in? I'm more or less talking to myself about this, since no one reads this, but I might as well. As you know I'm really into acting and a few years ago I got into doing independent films. A couple months ago I auditioned for a film that was looking for a teen girl. I was so excited, I hadn't found work for a teenager in at least a year! I realized though, I didn't have a monologue, so I wrote one last minute. It's about a phone conversation a girl has with her friend and then her boyfriend calls....kinda girly, but it works. So I went, did my thing, and didn't hear from the director until two weeks later, which by then I thought I had failed, for a callback. He sent us a part of the script I would be reading with a guy being considered for the other part. The film was about a girl, Shelley, who shoots her parents with her boyfriend. Despite what you're thinking, it's not a horror film. The shooting is in the beginning, and the rest of the film is showing how Shelley deals with what she has done.

So anyway, I went, did my thing, and didn't hear from him until a week later when he called and told me I got the part! When I read the full script, I realized I was in for it. Shelley is a depressed girl, not emotional at all, very deadpan, so I had to practice being that way, being slow and not reacting to anything. Also, the other teen, Roger, is Shelley's boyfriend, and they have to kiss 3 times! At one point in the film, Shelley catches and cuts up an eel!

A month later, when we went down the the cape for a week (we were filming down there. It was a pretty complex shoot) I was nervous, but when I met the crew, I realized it would be fine; they all got along so well. The guy who played Roger was 17 (yikes!) but he was really nice and we got to be good friends. Filming was so much fun! There was lots of goofing around, lots of jokes, but when we needed to be serious, we were serious. The whole crew was very impressed with my acting and the producer wants to work with me in his upcoming film, which is excellent. It was the best film I have ever been in, and I'm sort of astounded that I did it, you know? I never thought I could act like that, be someone so different than me, but I threw myself into it and it worked. Oh, and the kissing? Sure, we had to do each kiss a hundred million times to get it right....that's what we had to do with every shot, to make sure they got it. I didn't really mind....

Okay, enough about me! I want to hear about my non-existent follower's summers! Leave a comment telling me something about your summer, something you have done or are going to do, or just a funny story. Please? I love hearing about different people's experiences.

Oh, and by the way, Sarah Dessen has a new book out! It's called Along for the Ride. I'm reading it right now, so I can't tell you much about it yet, but next post I'll review it.

Quote of the Post: "It's alright to have butterflies in your stomach. Just get them to fly in formation."

I have my own problem now. I have writer's block. It's a horrible disease that I know possess due to my lack of creativity. I keep starting poems, but I can't seem to finish them, I can't seem to "express" myself. I have a really good start for a poem, just a few lines, but everything I write after it doesn't match what I originally wanted to poem to sound like:

My life is a page
Covered with dots and mistakes
Of all the things I didn't say
Even though I had ways

Does anyone have a cure for this unlucky disease? I've had it for a few weeks now and it is annoying the hell out of me! Any suggestions? On how to finish this poem or how to cure writer's block, either one is welcomed.

Of course, I don't have writer's block on the thing that I deem less important, my blog. Why is that?

Quote of the Post: "If you scatter thorns, don't go barefoot."

Problem: "my guitar won't tune. discuss." hmmm...the problem is....i know nothing about guitars. I am not a "musical instrument" type of person. But research can solve almost anything. I looked it up on google, tuning guitars, and found a website that instructs you how to not only tune the guitar, but play it. "howtotuneaguitar.org" very original name, but as far as i can tell, it shows you how. good luck!

Quote of the Post: "Live forever of die in the attempt."