sitting in hopelessness, watching my life pass me by
staring in awe at the boy who has learned how to fly
dreaming that one day he'll reach out his soft hand to me
showing and glowing and flying 'till life has no need
wondering, pondering what made you seem so unreal
flying apparently means you have truths to conceal
words cannot say what I'm having the need to tell you
love hate confused in a world I don't know to be true
watching 'till the hope that I could someday learn to fly
inspires me so that I'm actually willing to try
landing in thornes that break me and cause me to bleed
Earth soaked in blood is not good for a new growing seed
watching you flying and wondring if it's worth the pain
holding it inside and causing my death from the strain
wasting away in a pain caused from something inside
go ahead, tell yourself, my ache will surely subside
sitting in hopelessness, watching my life pass me by
staring in spite at the boy who has learned how to fly
wishing that one day he'll fall from the sky down to me
and feel the pain that he caused with his "reality"
30 June 2010
29 June 2010
The Reverend's Wife
“Christina,” a voice said her name quietly. “Christina, come and eat something.”
She opened her eyes. It was still dark inside- but of course Charles would not have opened the shades while she was sleeping. She hadn’t even remembered falling asleep. Charles was kneeling at the bed in front of her.
“I’ve got some dinner in the kitchen. Come and have something to eat.”
“You’re probably the only man in town who can cook at decent meal,” she smiled.
“I didn’t say it was decent,” he smiled and kissed her quickly. “Come on. Put your hair up in case someone shows up and meet me in the kitchen.” He stood and left the room.
She rolled out of the bed. She took the black ribbon and tied her hair into a simple bun once again. She stood up straight and smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress. She opened the drapes to the bedroom and walked out to the kitchen. Charles sat at the head of the table smiling.
“You look wonderful,” he said in slightly sarcastic voice.
“It isn’t my fault all you Puritans won’t let me wear color,” she said quietly. She sat at the table across from him.
“Oh my,” his eyes were huge and he looked disgusted.”
“What is it?”
He looked at his plate and started laughing. “This is terrible, completely terrible.”
She took a bite cautiously. “You’re right. It is terrible.” She picked up her plate and walked over to take his. “I’ll see what I can do.” She walked to the oven. He followed.
“We were talking about it spreading before,” he said, just barely above a whisper. “All I can say is that I hope it doesn’t. You may be a reverend’s wife, but I’m a young reverend, and the fact remains that you are not a Puritan. That never looks good to witch hunters.”
“You think they’ll come for me?”
“I hope not. I don’t think anyone in town is aware that you are not Puritan, and the longer we keep it that way, the better off we are. Most people won’t even think to accuse you because you are my wife, and that’s just how it is.”
She opened her eyes. It was still dark inside- but of course Charles would not have opened the shades while she was sleeping. She hadn’t even remembered falling asleep. Charles was kneeling at the bed in front of her.
“I’ve got some dinner in the kitchen. Come and have something to eat.”
“You’re probably the only man in town who can cook at decent meal,” she smiled.
“I didn’t say it was decent,” he smiled and kissed her quickly. “Come on. Put your hair up in case someone shows up and meet me in the kitchen.” He stood and left the room.
She rolled out of the bed. She took the black ribbon and tied her hair into a simple bun once again. She stood up straight and smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress. She opened the drapes to the bedroom and walked out to the kitchen. Charles sat at the head of the table smiling.
“You look wonderful,” he said in slightly sarcastic voice.
“It isn’t my fault all you Puritans won’t let me wear color,” she said quietly. She sat at the table across from him.
“Oh my,” his eyes were huge and he looked disgusted.”
“What is it?”
He looked at his plate and started laughing. “This is terrible, completely terrible.”
She took a bite cautiously. “You’re right. It is terrible.” She picked up her plate and walked over to take his. “I’ll see what I can do.” She walked to the oven. He followed.
“We were talking about it spreading before,” he said, just barely above a whisper. “All I can say is that I hope it doesn’t. You may be a reverend’s wife, but I’m a young reverend, and the fact remains that you are not a Puritan. That never looks good to witch hunters.”
“You think they’ll come for me?”
“I hope not. I don’t think anyone in town is aware that you are not Puritan, and the longer we keep it that way, the better off we are. Most people won’t even think to accuse you because you are my wife, and that’s just how it is.”
28 June 2010
Braindead
The knock on the door could barely be heard above the woman’s giggles and shrieks of pleasure. Zachary froze, listening for a second knock. It did not take long for the woman beneath him to realize that something was wrong. She whispered in his ear, asking. This time her voice could be barely be heard above the knocking. “Damn it,” Zachary muttered as he climbed off of the woman. “You remember what I said about the castle owner being a stickler?”
The woman nodded.
“Yeah, well he’s back now, and he’s at the door, and he’s also a cold-blooded killer, so I think you should get out through the window while you still have a chance.”
The woman’s eyes widened with fear and, grabbing her clothes from the floor, she ran to the nearest window and began her nervous climb down to the ground.
Zachary opened the door. “Really, Victor? That was number 5 for this week.”
“I should be the one saying ‘really,’ Zachary. When did I become a cold-blooded killer? “ He looked out of the window at the partially dressed woman running frantically into the woods. “I doubt she’ll ever be coming back.”
“That was the goal, Victor, so I call it a success.”
Victor spun around to face Zachary. “Tell me, Zachary, what exactly do you plan to do when a child shows up on our doorstep? It’s bound to happen one of these times.”
“Well any mother who leaves her child at the doorstep of a supposed cold-blooded killer has some major issues of her own,” Zachary said, ignoring Victor’s hard glare. “Either way, I’d just give it to William. He’s the one who wants a kid so badly.”
Victor sighed an exasperated sigh. “You’re an idiot, Zachary. Simply an idiot.”
“And you’re a stuck up, cold-blooded murderer who lives in a huge castle and only ever comes out of his room at night. I’d rather be an idiot.”
The woman nodded.
“Yeah, well he’s back now, and he’s at the door, and he’s also a cold-blooded killer, so I think you should get out through the window while you still have a chance.”
The woman’s eyes widened with fear and, grabbing her clothes from the floor, she ran to the nearest window and began her nervous climb down to the ground.
Zachary opened the door. “Really, Victor? That was number 5 for this week.”
“I should be the one saying ‘really,’ Zachary. When did I become a cold-blooded killer? “ He looked out of the window at the partially dressed woman running frantically into the woods. “I doubt she’ll ever be coming back.”
“That was the goal, Victor, so I call it a success.”
Victor spun around to face Zachary. “Tell me, Zachary, what exactly do you plan to do when a child shows up on our doorstep? It’s bound to happen one of these times.”
“Well any mother who leaves her child at the doorstep of a supposed cold-blooded killer has some major issues of her own,” Zachary said, ignoring Victor’s hard glare. “Either way, I’d just give it to William. He’s the one who wants a kid so badly.”
Victor sighed an exasperated sigh. “You’re an idiot, Zachary. Simply an idiot.”
“And you’re a stuck up, cold-blooded murderer who lives in a huge castle and only ever comes out of his room at night. I’d rather be an idiot.”
27 June 2010
Miss Catherine
Margaret Thatcher woke suddenly, realizing with a start that her window was open. Pulling back the sheets and jumping to her feet, the freezing air swept over her. She hurried over to her window, closing it and latching it shut quickly. She rushed back to her bed, dove into it and pulled the sheets back up, wrapping them around her neck. She closed her eyes in the rediscovered warmth, trying to fall asleep yet again.
A knock on the door prevented her from achieving her hoped goal.
Climbing out of bed again into the freezing air, she wrapped her cloak around her as she went to the door. Her sister appeared in the doorway from the other room, shaking her head. Acknowledging her sister's presence silently, Margaret opened the door. Before her stood a fairly tall, well built man with elegantly brushed blonde hair standing before her. She sighed, "Hello, Richard."
"Good morning, Miss Margaret. Is Miss Thatcher in this morning?"
"I'm afraid she is not, Richard." She lied. "I'll be sure to let her know you stopped by."
"I don't suppose you could be so kind as to tell me where I might find her? It is terribly early--she should not be walking alone."
"I'm afraid I have only just awoken myself. I do not know where she is," Margaret lied through her teeth a second time.
"I will check the town. She could not have very well gone anywhere else."
Margaret smiled sweetly and shut the door. Pausing a moment for Richard to leave the building, she turned to her sister. "You know, Catherine, Richard is a very good man. You'd do very well to be with a man like him."
"Then you take him. Lord knows I don't want him. He's as thick as a brick," Catherine smirked.
A knock on the door prevented her from achieving her hoped goal.
Climbing out of bed again into the freezing air, she wrapped her cloak around her as she went to the door. Her sister appeared in the doorway from the other room, shaking her head. Acknowledging her sister's presence silently, Margaret opened the door. Before her stood a fairly tall, well built man with elegantly brushed blonde hair standing before her. She sighed, "Hello, Richard."
"Good morning, Miss Margaret. Is Miss Thatcher in this morning?"
"I'm afraid she is not, Richard." She lied. "I'll be sure to let her know you stopped by."
"I don't suppose you could be so kind as to tell me where I might find her? It is terribly early--she should not be walking alone."
"I'm afraid I have only just awoken myself. I do not know where she is," Margaret lied through her teeth a second time.
"I will check the town. She could not have very well gone anywhere else."
Margaret smiled sweetly and shut the door. Pausing a moment for Richard to leave the building, she turned to her sister. "You know, Catherine, Richard is a very good man. You'd do very well to be with a man like him."
"Then you take him. Lord knows I don't want him. He's as thick as a brick," Catherine smirked.
26 June 2010
The Greenhouse
The air in the greenhouse was wet and thick. White lights hung from the ceiling, shining through the plants, creating the sort of green glow in the room. The plants swayed slightly as though brushed by a breeze, but there was none to be felt. Patrick moved gracefully between the various flowers and ferns, touching each lightly and whispering to them. He seemed to almost be asking them about their health rather than actually checking. He wore a white lab coat, making him look very much like a doctor. The greenhouse door creaked open, startling him. He jumped behind a nearby plant, removing his eye-attracting lab coat.
“Patrick?” Victor’s cool voice said, muffled by the plants that absorbed the sudden burst of sound. “Patrick, William is worried about you. He says you refuse to leave the greenhouse. Is everything alright?”
“Victor, I’m busy. Go away,” he responded coldly and blatantly. “Nothing is the matter besides the fact that I can get no quality amount of work done without everyone in this god forsaken castle thinking something is wrong.”
“Yes, of course.” Victor sounded disheartened. “I won’t disturb you any longer. We just thought that maybe you needed help adjusting to—”
“Go away, Victor!” Patrick shouted, remaining still behind the plant. He waited until he heard the creak as the greenhouse door closed and clicked shut. He stood slowly—checking to make sure Victor was truly gone. He put the lab coat back on and returned to attending his garden, trying to ignore the green glow that seemed to radiate from his skin.
“Patrick?” Victor’s cool voice said, muffled by the plants that absorbed the sudden burst of sound. “Patrick, William is worried about you. He says you refuse to leave the greenhouse. Is everything alright?”
“Victor, I’m busy. Go away,” he responded coldly and blatantly. “Nothing is the matter besides the fact that I can get no quality amount of work done without everyone in this god forsaken castle thinking something is wrong.”
“Yes, of course.” Victor sounded disheartened. “I won’t disturb you any longer. We just thought that maybe you needed help adjusting to—”
“Go away, Victor!” Patrick shouted, remaining still behind the plant. He waited until he heard the creak as the greenhouse door closed and clicked shut. He stood slowly—checking to make sure Victor was truly gone. He put the lab coat back on and returned to attending his garden, trying to ignore the green glow that seemed to radiate from his skin.
25 June 2010
Notes on Procrastination
You can ask anyone why procrastination is a good thing, and they’ll most likely say “I work better under pressure”… yeah, that’s a load of bull. And then you’ll run into the upstanding, straight A, valedictorian student who says, “Procrastination isn’t a good thing”… also a load of bull. To be honest, I don’t know what is up with today’s society that is so obsessed with deadlines. Deadlines are important sure, but they are dead, so what are they going to do to you? Exactly, they can’t do anything. They may postpone that promotion a bit, but worse things have happened. Procrastination never sounds like a good idea. Missing a deadline is a horrible feeling. It’s the stomach churning, gut wrenching feeling that everybody just loves. But think about it. Would you rather miss the deadline or your daughter’s fourth birthday party? At first the answer is obvious: the birthday party. After all, there’s only one deadline, and she’ll have other birthdays. However, she’ll only ever have one fourth birthday (which cannot be pushed back with a simple request written oh so eloquently and e-mailed off to your boss) and, as much as I hate to say this, there is no guarantee that she will have another birthday. The odds are low, yes, but they are still there.
The biggest waste of time is not procrastinating. No, I don’t mean that the biggest waste of time is a single something other than procrastination. Read the sentence again, put an emphasis on “not,” and you’ll see what I mean.
Procrastination is living. Think about it. If you finished everything right away, what would you do with all of the extra time? Don’t know? That’s funny, because I don’t either. The thing about procrastination is that it inspires you to do things you wouldn’t normally do in the attempt to avoid working. Maybe that’s what sucks so much about college. Even with 17 credits, there’s only so much studying you can do before your brain explodes, and if you don’t procrastinate, I can guarantee that while everybody else is studying in a rush at the last moment, you will be sitting in your dorm room, flipping a coin 300 times to see if heads or tails will win (it’s tails, by the way). Or maybe you’ll play solitaire on your computer, switching every third time to real cards for the excitement of the sudden change. Or, as I have found myself doing when immersed in total and complete boredom, 467 games of minesweeper at the highest level (none of which will be won, of course). Life is boring without procrastination. There are no desperate attempts at avoiding work and there are no desperate attempts to finish work in time. Procrastination is what makes life worth living.
I don’t mean to condone procrastination. There is little doubt that it can cause major problems—especially related to school. In any do-or-die situation it is generally a better idea to finish something ahead of time and give yourself a good day or so to review and make any alterations. However, that math homework can wait until 10:00 at night. Think of all the things that can be discovered when trying to avoid doing something. People try things that they never before would have thought to try when they’re trying to not do something else. Ideas for stories arise from the fabrics; a to-be-favorite TV show is brought to attention; the perfect plot for world domination is formed and about to be carried out when suddenly foiled (by someone else procrastinating who thought it would be cool to try and be a super hero for one night). Sometimes it is in those moments when we are desperately searching for some form of occupation that we find our future careers. We may discover our one true passion that would have flown well under the radar had we actually done whatever it was we were supposed to do exactly when we were supposed to do it. Any of the arts are like this, I think. Very few people discover their love of art by doing a homework assignment. The same goes for musicians. If it doesn’t, I think it should. I don’t think any musician should decide to be a music major because they just loved playing scales.
Procrastination is a good thing, despite its ugly reputation, and I think if people spent less time worrying about when things are due, maybe they could live a bit more. More time would be spent with families, eating proper meals, resulting in a healthier country. People, I think, could be so much happier if they just came to realize that the work day has come to an end, and now it’s time to relax… until 11:00 when you remember that one thing.
The biggest waste of time is not procrastinating. No, I don’t mean that the biggest waste of time is a single something other than procrastination. Read the sentence again, put an emphasis on “not,” and you’ll see what I mean.
Procrastination is living. Think about it. If you finished everything right away, what would you do with all of the extra time? Don’t know? That’s funny, because I don’t either. The thing about procrastination is that it inspires you to do things you wouldn’t normally do in the attempt to avoid working. Maybe that’s what sucks so much about college. Even with 17 credits, there’s only so much studying you can do before your brain explodes, and if you don’t procrastinate, I can guarantee that while everybody else is studying in a rush at the last moment, you will be sitting in your dorm room, flipping a coin 300 times to see if heads or tails will win (it’s tails, by the way). Or maybe you’ll play solitaire on your computer, switching every third time to real cards for the excitement of the sudden change. Or, as I have found myself doing when immersed in total and complete boredom, 467 games of minesweeper at the highest level (none of which will be won, of course). Life is boring without procrastination. There are no desperate attempts at avoiding work and there are no desperate attempts to finish work in time. Procrastination is what makes life worth living.
I don’t mean to condone procrastination. There is little doubt that it can cause major problems—especially related to school. In any do-or-die situation it is generally a better idea to finish something ahead of time and give yourself a good day or so to review and make any alterations. However, that math homework can wait until 10:00 at night. Think of all the things that can be discovered when trying to avoid doing something. People try things that they never before would have thought to try when they’re trying to not do something else. Ideas for stories arise from the fabrics; a to-be-favorite TV show is brought to attention; the perfect plot for world domination is formed and about to be carried out when suddenly foiled (by someone else procrastinating who thought it would be cool to try and be a super hero for one night). Sometimes it is in those moments when we are desperately searching for some form of occupation that we find our future careers. We may discover our one true passion that would have flown well under the radar had we actually done whatever it was we were supposed to do exactly when we were supposed to do it. Any of the arts are like this, I think. Very few people discover their love of art by doing a homework assignment. The same goes for musicians. If it doesn’t, I think it should. I don’t think any musician should decide to be a music major because they just loved playing scales.
Procrastination is a good thing, despite its ugly reputation, and I think if people spent less time worrying about when things are due, maybe they could live a bit more. More time would be spent with families, eating proper meals, resulting in a healthier country. People, I think, could be so much happier if they just came to realize that the work day has come to an end, and now it’s time to relax… until 11:00 when you remember that one thing.
24 June 2010
Nightfall
Victor stared up into the darkness, his ears straining to hear the tolling bells of each hour. There was little doubt that by this time his mental clock was quite accurate. And getting up earlier would be, though rather unpleasant, not a disaster. At long last he heard the bells begin to chime. Counting slowly in his head, nodding with each soft tone, a slight smile spread across his lips as he reached seven. He stood up on his bed and pulled the heavy black curtains open. He stepped down from his bed and opened the curtains of all of his windows, the soft moonlight floating into the room. He glanced across the room into his mirror, straightened his black and grey tie and left the room.
"Victor!" he heard a warm voice call from the room next door. "I thought I heard someone opening curtains." A fairly tall man, with soft white skin and dressed in shades of brown emerged from the room. He smiled a smile that was nothing short of contagious. "How's life in the dark, my friend?" William was a very warm person; he was friends with everyone in the household. However, he would forever and always claim that Victor was his best friend.
"Dark," Victor said in a sort of half smile. "How is everyone else?"
"Well enough. I won't bother to deny that I miss having you around during the long hours of the day, but work makes it somewhat easier. The Doctor has been locked in his room for the past few days, running various experiments that make my skin crawl, coming out only to eat or play a few rounds of poker. Patrick refuses to leave the greenhouse at all, which is extremely unnerving given" he paused," circumstances. Zachary is as brainless and frivolous as ever, and lately Marcus has been calling one particular person repeatedly and asking them over--they never say yes. You know the definition of insanity as well as I do." He sighed. "It would seem that this, right now, is the most logical, intelligent and sane part of my day."
Victor laughed. He put his arm over William's shoulder, "Well that's never a good sign, is it?"
"Victor!" he heard a warm voice call from the room next door. "I thought I heard someone opening curtains." A fairly tall man, with soft white skin and dressed in shades of brown emerged from the room. He smiled a smile that was nothing short of contagious. "How's life in the dark, my friend?" William was a very warm person; he was friends with everyone in the household. However, he would forever and always claim that Victor was his best friend.
"Dark," Victor said in a sort of half smile. "How is everyone else?"
"Well enough. I won't bother to deny that I miss having you around during the long hours of the day, but work makes it somewhat easier. The Doctor has been locked in his room for the past few days, running various experiments that make my skin crawl, coming out only to eat or play a few rounds of poker. Patrick refuses to leave the greenhouse at all, which is extremely unnerving given" he paused," circumstances. Zachary is as brainless and frivolous as ever, and lately Marcus has been calling one particular person repeatedly and asking them over--they never say yes. You know the definition of insanity as well as I do." He sighed. "It would seem that this, right now, is the most logical, intelligent and sane part of my day."
Victor laughed. He put his arm over William's shoulder, "Well that's never a good sign, is it?"
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