The Breath of Leaves Immiscible

Divine: the wind blows gentle
kissing
tugging
amber leaves-just so-
prolonging timid cuddles.

And then the wind grows
wicked and
they bunch
and sway
in frantic droves, in
panic--
cling and press against
eachother, holding
close and tight
until the night
gives way--

then flutter,
soaring, free and wild
into the waiting ground's
embrace;
they fall amongst the blades
and feel no pain.

Engineering Humor...because those two words go so well together.

‎"A pessimist will tell you the glass is half empty; an optimist will tell you the glass is half full; an engineer will tell you the glass is twice as big as it needs to be."

Civil engineers build targets, but mechanical engineers build weapons. (ME pride :D)

What is said followed by What it means


A number of different approaches are being tried. We don't know where we're going, but we're moving.

An extensive report is being prepared on a fresh approach to the problem. We just hired three guys... We'll let them kick it around for a while.

Developed after years of intensive research. It was discovered by accident.

Modifications are underway to correct certain minor difficulties. We threw the whole thing out and are starting from scratch.

Preliminary operational tests were inconclusive. The darn thing blew up when we threw the switch.

Test results were extremely gratifying. It works, and boy are we surprised !

The design will be finalized in the next reporting period. We haven't started this job yet, but we've got to say something.

The entire concept is unworkable. The only guy who understood the thing just quit.

We need close project coordination. We should have asked someone else.

Alternate: Let's spread the responsibility for this.



Top Ten Reasons To Date an Engineer


The world does revolve around us... We pick the coordinate system.

Find out what those other buttons on your calculator do.

We know how to handle stress and strain in our relationships.

Parents will approve.

Help with your math homework.

Can calculate head pressure.

Looks good on a resume.

Free body diagrams.

High starting salary.

Extremely good looking
 

from http://www.gdargaud.net/Humor/Engineer.html

Or will that just make it steal away my breathing doubly as fast?

Sometimes it seems
as though
the clock ticks simply
to spite me

as the hands muddle through
the muck imposed
by my trying glance
my
futile glance.

Smugly
I remove its batteries
and try as I might
to hide them
in my pocket
still, my hair turns gray

...I think that perhaps
I'll break that clock in two.

Maybe

Maybe the art of living is knowing how to balance the mindset that you have forever with the mindset that today is all you've got.

I'd love to say hi to you again.

I remember the arches of her feet,
high and
graceful;
high
and
empty;
high,
and tracing outlines of insoles,
clicky heels,
so high and black.

And now she's high
and dissipated
against/throughout/within
the blue and grayest
skies,
she's high
so I
still wear her shoes
to keep her memory
walking.

Drowning

In the rain,
some drops you see
some drops you feel
some others
sound
their pitter-pats across the world,
so far
that you might never know that they were here,
not here, nor there,
but all
have come
and gone.

Does the rain really cleanse anything away, or just hide it beneath a drowning river?

It's raining today.
The water trickles down the street-sides,
gently tugging at
lethargic leaves
that don't know the difference
between stay and go.

The window cries onto
my pane
and drips the muck of washless days.
My heart is searching
for something real
outside, between the grungy lines.

I call out to you.
Both.
Alive, or dead,
I get no response,

The way that raindrops fall and melt
into the ground
with no remorse or
absolution.

Reach out to touch them,
once or twice,
they'll shatter in your palm.

Luck

It is believed by some that finding a ladybug nearby or say, on your arm, is a sign of good luck to come.

Today, I looked at my shoulder, and what was sitting there?

...A stink bug.

Ay me.

I saw the sun rise in your eyes, then I saw it outside my window. Now tell me where are my shoes so I can go.

I can't take it, but you're screaming

in my face--
take it.

You press me down
and down
and suck me
right out of my head
and into your eyes,
so deep
that I can feel the crash.

You're pressing more,
and I want more,
so you slap the chills off my seething back,
then rip me open--
we're face to face.
And I can't hide
with you inside me like this,

pulling me down,
deeper and deeper until you jam
your imprint into my heart.

I try to fight and I'm breaking
through the surface of your skin;
I've got you under my
nails.
But you're bursting through my futile walls
and we feel the end
as it starts to begin.

And you know that I know you
can taste
the wanting, can taste
the hate
and sweat on my skin.

As you open your mouth
to tear me apart,
I finally let go--
there's no
going back
now,
I'm gushing my disdain.

Flesh

My nails

are jagged, blood rushing thin

behind rough and
ragged, red

adorns the crumbling armor and fate

never had a chance.

Clumsily they grapple
like there is no railway

of spindly veins that drive,

no pulsing
Throb
to throw them life and
lost.
They are hopelessly
Lost endlessly
Lost vividly, wildly, stunningly falling
Short. 

They sit on the edge and prod and wait and crack and heal and they are
Hard…but always

Behind

The crimson façade, the

Fearless shield

Of scarring claws

…Is
Flesh.

Second of three poems concerning my ten handiest appendages

I want to touch the world, I reach
Out with my
Novice hands
And ache that something
Someone, somewhere might brush against
Or hold them.

Third of three poems concerning my ten handiest appendages

I’ve pricked my fingers, once and Twice.
Raw and bleeding, I come
Back to taste you with the tips
Once more,
“Where is my cure
For this
Disease”?

Link to (most of) my Pitt News articles :)

http://pittnews.com/?s=streussnig

'Phantom of the Opera' makes final run in Pittsburgh, for The Pitt News, 8/25/10

“The Phantom of the Opera” is giving Pittsburgh a chance to experience the man behind the mask and the thrill and intrigue behind the centuries-old tale of dark obsession and unrequited love.


The Phantom will run rampant in Pittsburgh from Aug. 25 through Sept. 19 thanks to The Pittsburgh Cultural Trust, Pittsburgh Symphony and Broadway Across America. The show will be a part of the 2010-11 PNC Broadway Across America-Pittsburgh series.

Originally published as a novel in 1911 in France by Gaston Leroux under the name “Le Fantôme de l’Opéra,” “The Phantom of the Opera” was adapted as a musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber and debuted at Her Majesty’s Theatre in London on Sept. 27, 1986.

Since then, the show has picked up incredible speed and grossed more than $5 billion, making it “the most financially successful musical of all time,” according to thephantomoftheopera.com.

It became the longest-running Broadway performance overtaking the record set by “Cats” on Jan. 6, 2006 with its when it overtook the record set by “Cats” with its 7,486th performance. “It is the only Broadway show ever to reach 18th, 19th, 20th and 21st birthdays,” also reaching its 22nd in January of 2010.

“The Phantom of the Opera,” directed by Harold Prince, is the story of a young performer at the Paris Opera House who begins accepting musical tutelage from a man she refers to as her “Angel of Music.”

This mysterious, masked teacher whose face is marred by some unknown deformity wants more from Christine Daaé than what appears, yet she naively continues on with their lessons, all the while falling in love with another man.

The Phantom wreaks havoc on the opera house and the lives of the performers on his zealous quest for Christine’s heart and commitment.

The story reaches its climax when the Phantom steals Christine away and forces her to decide the outcome of her life and of the story: Stay with the Phantom forever or live without her true love, who will be killed at the hand of the Phantom.

The Paris Opera House is a real place and has been around since the end of the 19th century.

“Anyone familiar with a large opera house would testify that it is an extraordinary labyrinth of people and passageways, but the Paris Opera House ... was remarkable by any standards,” according to the Phantom site.

Its majestic appearance and maze-like layout make the Paris Opera House the perfect inspiration for the Phantom’s eerie and imposing tale. The 17-story fortress, complete with stables for the “opera horses” and a lake beneath the building, will be played this fall by the Steel City’s own Benedum Center, bringing all the majesty and the intrigue of the Phantom to our doorstep.

Performing will be a 36-member cast from The Cameron Mackintosh/Really Useful Theatre Company. The show will star Tim Martin Gleason as the shrouded main character and Trista Moldovan as Christine Daaé, the innocent object of the Phantom’s oppressive fixation.

Matisyahu brings good vibes to Mr. Small's--for The Pitt News, 8/29/10

When Matisyahu stepped onto the stage at Mr. Small’s last week, the mood of the room took a noticeable turn.


The buzzing drone of chit-chatters quieted, cell phones were resigned to the depths of purses and pockets and the reggae artist known for his novel approach to music bowed his head to the microphone. The experience had begun.

From that moment until the very last note, Matisyahu, an American Hasidic Jew, exuded a mix of uniqueness and relatablity. The 31-year-old native of West Chester, Pa., wore the traditional Jewish tallit, a shawl typically worn during prayer with four white tassels hanging from the bottom, aviator sunglasses and a Volcom flat-brim hat. He was, of course, also sporting his signature beard and payot, locks of hair in front of the ears that wearers don’t cut for religious reasons.

His vocals went from a melodious prayer spoken in Hebrew to a series of rapping and beat-boxing interludes. Some of his songs were so catchy that they sounded like they could be Top-40 hits. Others blended various types of music, such as hip-hop and reggae to create a totally unique sound.

Matisyahu created his own original flow, transitioning between rapping, singing and prayer-like chanting. There was something to please every taste, and Matisyahu captured everyone’s attention. He even threw in some dancing and walked along the very edge of the stage, hinting at the possibility that he may fall right into the crowd. There were many open hands eagerly waiting, but the artist just slapped a few high-fives and continued alongside his band.

The music that set the stage for Matisyahu’s performance was played by Dub Trio, his openers from Brooklyn, N.Y. The group and Matisyahu had great chemistry and a talent for diverse rhythms that was apparent in its musical sequences. Despite posessing undeniable skill, the band members took a backseat to the solo artist, as his mouth ran a mile a minute into the microphone, causing his voice to sound as if it were another instrument.

Perhaps what was so striking about Matisyahu was his seemingly flawless ability to create an energy unlike any other. His seamless transitions between reggae, hip-hop, alternative and folk stylings, coupled with his self-effacing lyrics that called for peace among mankind, created an undeniable air of community and interconnectedness throughout the audience.

Matisyahu’s style is not so much a clash of customs as it is an avant-garde merging of melodies and cultures. While he performed, it seemed as though invisible forces stirred on the stage and inspired the crowd to be further unified by the swaying of hips and the shifting of hands and heads beneath the green, red and blue flood lights.

“You can hear the ground breathing,” he sang, and it was almost as if you could, listening to the cyclic beat of the drums behind him and the shuffle of the crowd.

Matisyahu will continue on to Hungary, Israel and California for additional shows to wrap up his 2010 year of performances of his most recent album, Light, out on Epic Records. Light debuted in the Top 20 on the Billboard charts, and “One Day,” a single from the album, was designated the official anthem for the 2010 Winter Olympic Games.

Bob Marley's family commemorates him in concert--for The Pitt News, 9/23/10

Thirty years ago, the voice of the legendary reggae performer Bob Marley rang out over a crowd of his devotees for the last time in concert here in Pittsburgh at the Stanley Theatre, known today as the Benedum Center.


Today, on Sept. 23 — the anniversary of Marley’s final performance — his family will take to the Benedum Center stage to revive his voice, celebrate his legacy and support his lifelong mission — peaceful and conscientious living for all mankind.

Ed Traversari, producer of the upcoming show, is experiencing a sort of déjà vu in preparing for the celebration — he was also a producer of Bob Marley’s final performance.

“It’s been a passion of some of us who were at that show in 1980 to see a show like this come to Pittsburgh to celebrate Bob Marley. Not a lot of people know that his last performance took place in Pittsburgh,” Traversari said.

He said producers started tossing around the idea of a tribute show about 10 years after the 1980 performance.

“We thought about it for a while and were considering doing it around the 25-year mark,” he said.

But planning the show turned out to be quite a bit of work and they needed more time to “pull all the pieces together,” Traversari said.

Finally, after 30 years, the Marley family will join together to commemorate their relative and show Pittsburgh how much his music can still move a room. Family members thus far confirmed to be taking part in the performance include his daughter, Cedella, along with her group The Marley Girls; his sons, Stephen, Julian, Ky-Mani and Damian “Junior Gong;” and his widow, Rita, the “Queen Mother.” Alongside Rita will be former I-Threes member Marcia Griffiths.

Rita Marley will travel all the way from her home in Ghana to be a part of the tribute.

The set list is the exact one played by Bob Marley himself at his last performance and includes such classic hits as “Natural Mystic,” “Exodus,” “Jamming” and “Is This Love?”

All of the show’s proceeds will go to the Marley Family’s new nonprofit organization, 1Love. Its website, www.1love.com, describes the movement as “a global call to arms dedicated to giving back through charities that empower individuals and groups to take action for sustainable and responsible living.”

On the 1Love site, Cedella Marley writes about the inspiration her father’s life provides to her. “Still to this day, our father’s ‘Tuff Gong’ spirit has never backed down in his fight to end corporate and political greed, abolish prejudice and racism, and spread peace, harmony and equality throughout our planet. In fact, he always says, ‘the bad guys never take a day off, why should I?’”

Donna Mastropasqua, executive director of 1Love.org — established this past June — said that the upcoming concert is the very first effort of the new organization, which is set to be formally launched this fall.

“1Love basically was created to further Bob Marley’s vision on how to make the world a better place,” Mastropasqua said. “We’ve come up with three pillars that are the areas in which we look for charities to help out through money, resources, volunteers — any way we can in the name of Bob Marley’s vision.”
These pillars are youth, planet and peace. Some of the charities that 1Love will assist include the African Leadership Academy, an organization dedicated to the encouragement of young leaders in Africa, and Water.org, a nonprofit committed to supplying safe, fresh drinking water to developing nations.
As the excitement builds, locals are looking forward to the concert and appreciating the legacy that Bob Marley left behind.

Pittsburgh musician and Bob Marley fan Scott Weishorn said, “For Bob Marley coming from a place that is so poor and filled with crime ... to send a message that is so positive and inspiring is truly a gift. From a musician’s perspective, for such a huge event to happen in Pittsburgh is very historic and I can’t wait to hear what the Marley family has in store.”

Judgmental Ass...I'm back.

Is it right to assume that past a certain age, say like somewhere in the thirties, there is something...odd...about being single?

Maybe I am a judgmental ass or just a total weirdo myself, but when I see someone around 35ish or older, as I trace them over with my eyes doing that momentary inventory that we all daily fall victim to, I tend to find myself lingering on their left hand, fixated and waiting for them to shift it just so in order for me to make my determination--married...or freak.

All else about the person can pass my mental examination for basic normalcy and competence at life, but if they're missing the band, I generally assume, without even meaning to, that a few bolts are missing upstairs, as well.

True, they may choose to remain single based on some actually superior mental awareness and capacity that most of us lack, or they could be recently divorced or separated. 

Yet, when I notice that that particular finger is bare as a naked butt, I automatically, as if on cue, picture the person sitting at home, alone on a Friday night, the melancholy lights of some news show or another flickering on the television somewhere in the background. 

He or she is sitting on the couch (which doesn't match the chair--an obvious hand-me-down) in only underwear, unshaven and absentmindedly fiddling with some pointless collection accumulated over the lonely years.

Maybe it's train sets, model airplanes, Sacajawea coins--it doesn't really matter.  Each is as sad as the next.

And there's always a cat (or five) creeping around on an emptry shelf amidst the dust and lint where photos of children should be.

Am I an evil drone, a mindless product of society?  Do I even have a soul!???

:)

SPAM food column for Pitt News, 7/6/10

SPAM. It’s a great source of ... SPAM.


As college students, sometimes we’ve got to take some risky ventures when it comes to our cuisine because time and money are short. But should we go so far as SPAM? What exactly is it that is lurking behind that well-known label, anyhow?

According to the package, SPAM consists of pork shoulder meat, ham, salt, water, modified potato starch to bind all the yumminess together and sodium nitrate to maintain that vibrant, appetizing pink color.

SPAM was first created, in 1937 and was originally called Hormel Spiced Ham. When market share began to fall, Hormel launched a naming competition. According to WordIQ.com, SPAM has been said to be an acronym for Shoulder of Pork and Ham by a Hormel official.

However, the public has come up with its own ideas for what SPAM really stands for. Specially Processed Assorted Meat, perhaps? Or better yet, Something Posing As Meat? We might never know for sure.

The ambiguity of the name, however, has not stopped people — college students and beyond — from downing can after tasty can of the stuff.

SPAM saw a particularly large rise in popularity during World War II, especially in Hawaii where meat was difficult to come by. Hawaii is still the biggest consumer of SPAM in the world per capita, according to WordIQ.com, consuming on average 5.5 cans per second (compared with the United States’ 3.1 cans per second).

SPAM comes in many varieties including SPAM Hot & Spicy, SPAM Hickory Smoked and SPAM Spread for those who’d rather just smear it on rather than waste their precious between-class time slicing.

SPAM mania doesn’t stop with just eating it, either.

SPAMarama, a public fair dedicated to the consumption, versatility and overall fun of SPAM, takes place in Austin, Texas annually since 1978.

The fair is known for its notorious SPAM cooking competition, which has included recipes such as Doug Holloway’s Stuffed SPAM with Sauce a la Pepto, Carl Hickerson’s Kosher Gas Attack, SPAM brownies and even SPAM ice cream.

Because SPAM, dare I say it, doesn’t always taste great when eaten for dessert, each judge is allowed three “passes” for those porcine concoctions that are less than appealing, and, in addition to an award for the best-tasting entry, they also present one lucky SPAM-lover an award for the worst submission, according to Hubpages.com. Partying with SPAM is a win-win situation.

Then of course there is the SPAM eating contest, SPAM toss and SPAM tug-of-war, which takes place on either side of a large pit of the meat of the hour, SPAM.

But like I said, it’s otherwise your typical, run-of-the-mill shindig.

SPAM Jam, held yearly in Austin, Minn., is yet another celebration of this little meaty joy.

According to WordIQ.com, in addition to parades, games and fireworks, guests at SPAM Jam will likely come across “copious amounts of blue and yellow [the colors of the packaging], and myriad dancing men and women in large SPAM can costumes.”

As Austin, Minn., is the location of the Hormel facility that produces SPAM, it has got even more to offer fans than the festivities of SPAM Jam.

It is also the home of the SPAM museum, where visitors can take a guided tour through the history of SPAMdom, led by an official “SPAMbassador,” according to Roadsideamerica.com.

Upon entering the museum, one is confronted with a large wall o’SPAM, consisting of 3,390 cans stacked to the ceiling. There are interactive activities so that people can get an idea of what it would have felt like to work on a SPAM assembly line before the advent of machinery that does the job.

The SPAM museum also features a small theater — which plays a 15-minute film about SPAM — a gift shop boasting SPAM memorabilia, and as visitors make their way through the facility, “the ‘Monty Python’ cast” can “be heard singing ‘SPAM’ through a loudspeaker, over and over.”


Mmmm, I can just hear it now, and it’s making me want to toss a can in my backpack for later.

Grown Ups movie review for Pitt News, 7/13/10

Walking into the theater to see “Grown Ups,” which boasts an all-star army of comedic valor that includes Adam Sandler, Rob Schneider, Kevin James, Chris Rock and David Spade, I expected that the movie would be a typical goofy comedy.


We’ve all seen and laughed unashamedly at the antics of these actors in their own films, but what mayhem, what shenanigans, what all-out epic tomfoolery would these guys pull off when not two, not three, not four but FIVE of them were tossed into the same cinematic stew?

The result, I decided as I purchased my $8 popcorn, simply must be one of two scenarios: either total hilarity of historic proportions or a flop, sort of a “too many chefs in the kitchen” kind of result.

What I got, however, I wouldn’t characterize as either of these.

“Grown Ups” definitely did provide some good laughs — at one point, Rob Hilliard (played by Schneider) absentmindedly dips his hand into a bucket of chicken immediately after tossing the ashes of the other guys’ deceased basketball coach. They yell at him for touching the chicken with “coach hands,” but everyone is so hungry that they eat it anyway.

These moments, however, are overshadowed by the overall — get ready for this folks — plot of the movie. There is, in fact, more to “Grown Ups” than stupid humor. The movie centers around the theme of family and the realization of what is most important in life. In addition to laughs, “Grown Ups” packs a lot of heart.

To some, this might be a refreshing take. Maybe it will even produce a little bit of warm fuzziness. To others, perhaps it might border on cheesy.
Either way, “Grown Ups” offers up a few life lessons in addition to the typical array of broken appendages and brainless one-liners, like it or not.

A Treacherous Affair

Life is a beauty with two faces.


…She slinks in through the crack of your door in the dark of night and pours the venom of nightmarish thoughts onto the creases of your eyelids; whispers in your ear with her supple, torturous lips, glistening red against moonbeams, of all the ills and frights her illicit and stunning mind can concoct, only to wake you—pierce through your curtains, rattle your blinds, with a sunrise that clears through the muck and mire in such splendid hues that it blinds the demons inside you, seduces away your evil dreams and makes you forget, if only for a moment, her ephemeral clutches and that she has ever had the capacity to be so cruel.

Three of the reasons I love S. Hawking

‎"One, remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Two, never give up work. Work gives you meaning and purpose, and life is empty without it. Three, if you are lucky enough to find love, remember it is rare and don't throw it away."--Stephen Hawking

did i finally do it? geez.

I just saw a Shell commercial
of this girl riding
on the back
of some guy's motorcycle

and I could almost feel
the night air
see the lights of man
defying nature,
rushing by in a blur
when all that faces me
is the back of his neck

i don't notice my fingers
gripping themselves
laced and
wrapped,
straining muscles in my hands i didn't even
know i
had.

they'll hurt for the next three days,
my hands

and i only know because i asked for a ride
and soared through the warmth of the just barely summer
weightless and
rushing
on the birmingham bridge
skimmed right over
the birmingham bridge and

we never really talked again,
only shared that momentary
closeness of my chest against your back,
mine weighed down with the books of both our backpacks
but free as the wind in my pigtails

we never really
talked again
but everytime i see
that liquid motion, feel the pavement melt away beneath me
i'll always remember
the heat.

poetry is symptomatic of a life riddled with life. i can't really doubt myself, but you--

[lucky me
can't you see
i'm in love?]

i really thought you were
really somethin
else when you told
me that you liked frank sinatra.

how many guys
this day, this time
would ever say such a thing...mean such a thing...

and then you sang
"you're nobody 'til somebody loves you"

and that's when i knew
what you'd never know

that's when i knew
you were lying--
that it'd never be that easy

moon beams can only reach so far into
the woods.

i waited all my life to be here with you tonight

you played me that song
like it stood for for
ever
when really it stood
til you found someone better

...yourself.

((maybe he was onto

something)).

The Path

I was looking out the window, saying my prayers (a nightly ritual of mine), and thinking about my grandma, hoping that one day I will see her again, but not really knowing what I believe.

As I was getting up to go to bed, I noticed a line in the road, a crack, meandering its way across the road perpendicularly, originating on my side of the road and continuing on across to the other side.

A thought struck me.  Now, I am not one to immediately believe that God or my grandma was trying to communicate with me in any way, necessarily, by my sudden awareness of this crack and my thoughts thereafter, but I will admit that the possibility did cross my mind.

I looked at the line and I drew an immediate parallel between it and life..the path it took was crooked, ohhh so crooked, but it still seemed to be headed for something certain, as if despite an insect following the crack and feeling like it is wandering all over in no certain direction, I, from my larger point of view, my perch presiding over the bigger picture, I guess you could say, could see an obvious direction in the wavering path.

And as my eyes followed the crack in the road from where it began onward, I noticed that the line was harder and harder to see, it getting farther and farther from where I was at the present moment, yet I still knew, I just knew, that that path was headed somewhere, more specifically, to the other side of the road.

For a moment there, thinking of the crack in terms of life, it seemed almost silly to me to think that people look at their life paths and, just because they can't see it all from where they are situated, think that there is nothing more beyond what they are seeing.  Looking at the crack, it was obvious to me that despite my inability to see farther, the path didn't just stop.  Why should I assume that the path stops right at the spot beyond which I can see no farther...?

Okay, I really feel like a priest or something right now, so I'm going to wrap up the sermon, but I really did have this thought, and it's interesting.  I oftentimes find myself grappling for faith, but experiences like these make me think that maybe, just maybe, there is another side to this road.

Last night,

I looked up at the sky, and all the stars splayed across it like...oh I don't know, what new way can there be to describe the stars?  I feel like every metaphor, every simile has already been spoken for those little wonders.

I found myself thinking how the sky looks the same for everyone, no matter their location.  It is a constant in our lives, no matter who, no matter where, no matter when.

From the very first time you looked up in wonder and contemplated is there more? to this very moment, that sky that hovers above us has never changed.

I'd like to simply state that observation without interpreting it or relating it--just leave the thought to stand on its own and perhaps provide a moment of reflection and yet...it's just not my nature!

This observation made me think of how small so many of our problems actually are in the scheme of things; that no matter what is going on down here on earth, the same sky is watching over us, calm, vast, and brilliant.

A wild sleep, A nightmare. Or a dream that doesn't make sense yet.

I want to see you standing there again.
In the morning,
in your kitchen, next to the sink.
The sunlight would glint off the stainless steel
and you would wind your spindly fingers
around the handle of your white coffee mug--
No sugar, just a hint of milk--
and smile like the dawn,
wrapped up in your pink bathrobe,
hair wild as the wildest
sleep.

I feel like you're still here, until I know you aren't. I wish you were still here. I've lost my biggest heart.

When I look at pictures of her, my heart wants to break through the walls
of my chest
and my eyes wet as if
I might clean her absence away.
The pictures
bring to mind
all I have lost
all I have
never given, never will be able to
give.

They speak athousand
yesterdays
and wishes for tomorrows
and stab me,
slow and
deep
as if to remind me;
whisper in my ear...
yell in my face...
slap
awake my desperate,
hopeless,
empty gutters
and nick away at my restless
sleep.
 
I'll always keep your pictures
but looking at them will never feel
like anything less
than death.

It Appears I'm a Tool Bag

I am well en route to the land of calculus knowledge, everyone may be pleased to know.  Also, it seems that everyone in the library hates my guts.  Not, wait, let me amend that.  Everyone in and around the library. 
Yes I am boisterous.  Yes I am loud.  Yes this can amplified when I am "studying" with one of my favorite friends who I never see.
However, that is no excuse, upon my leaving to get a drink, for some random chick who I do not know to plop herself down in my seat, and write on my stuff something about how she hopes my final isn't "too awful," hinting that I obviously would do horrible on it.
I walked back in just in time to catch her in her immature and mean deed, and let's suffice to say that I very nearly got in my first fist fight ever.
Then, I go out into the hall to make a phone call.  I am in perfectly acceptable phone call space, talking to my friend about the incident and having a good chuckle when some other douche bag gets off the elevators and glares at me as if I tried to eat her child.
What did I do!?
I do not feel that I am blameless in the first little squabble--yes I was being kind of loud and kind of obnoxious in the library, and I know that's a crappy thing to do.  But wouldn't it be more mature to say "Excuse me, wouuld you mind keeping it down?"
Plus there's always the option of studying at home or in the room marked "quiet study" at the library, because we all know there's always a big tool bag like me planted at a table just close enough to you to fuck up your day.
But anyhow, that's neither here nor there.
My point (did I have a point?) was just to say that I am loud.  I have a personality that...well, not everyone can take.  But I am fine with that.  No I do not condone being rude, but I also will not feel guilty for being who I am--a happy, happy girl--wherever that happiness may take place, whether it be smack dab in the middle of your study session or not.  If I  had known how much I was bothering that...girl...I would have quieted down.  But I like who I am, squeaky voice and all.  Loudness and overtness.  Over the top-ness as well.

I Have a Theory

My calc 3 final is pressing...pressing down on me.  The weight of how much stuff I still don't know is almost too much to bear, so I must be brief here!

I have this theory.  My disclaimer: this isn't 100% guaranteed, because uh nothing is.

HOWEVER, I am continually wowed by applying this in life because with the right amount of confidence, smiles, and gusto...it just might work for ya, and by just might, I mean probably will.

Okay, enough with the buildup.  I'm gonna lay it out for you--Go For It!  Tadaa!! That's it.  If you want something, something big, something small, whatever it is, sometimes it's literally as simple as just asking for it.

Yep, my recipe for success in life includes one ball, two balls, wam bam you made it!

You want examples? Oh, I have examples.  Where to being, where to begin...aha!

Just the other day, I had something to fax.  I was in an academic building, with the closest official fax machine located multiple blocks away at the ups store.  It was hot, I was busy, and I quite frankly didn't feel like paying two bucks a page to fax something when, with the right attitude, I might just find a better option.

I walked to a tutoring office across the street (saving myself distance, and thus time) and, with a smile and a slight twinge of desperation, kindly asked the lady at the front desk if she might help a student in a pinch.  Her first response? NO.

So I thanked her anyway and started to ask where she would suggest I might go to fax my papers.  No sooner did I say this than she asked me for the fax number, took the papers from me, and faxed them, bada bing bada boom, no sweat.

I thanked her multiple times, and earnestly told her that I really appreciated the favor (which I did) and went about my day, wallet still stacked to the brim (okay, really I had like $8, but that's $4 more than I would have had!).

This is a perfect illustration of what I am talking about.  Did the lady mind taking two seconds to do me a favor? Not a bit.  It just took her a minute to realize the triviality of what I was asking her to do and agree.

You can duplicate this result!

Fax machines not a big concern for you?  Okay, fine.  I'll pull out a doozie.

I am an artist (from time to time) and joined an art club back home where I'm from (Greensburg, Pa).  It ended up being different from what I expected--I was by far the youngest member.  As a matter of fact, I felt like I acquired a lifetime supply of friendly grandparents by joining, artsy ones, at that.

But I stuck around and got to know the president of the club and her husband, and they turned out to be really kind people.

One day I thought to myself--"Wow. It would be really sweet if I could have my very own art show...just my work...solo exhibit...yeah! I'll fill this place with all my art! And invite a bunch of people! And maybe get famous...!"

Okay, that's enough of my thoughts for you.  Anyhow, the moral of that tailspin was that I wanted to have a solo exhibit.

Mind you, I had never done anything of the sort in the past, and I later found out that I knew little to nothing about what it takes to put together an exhibit (which is, by the way, a lot of work and money).

Despite that fact that I didn't really know how it would work, or even IF it would work, if I'd even have a slim chance at convincing this group of serious, professional artists to hand over their space to me, a naive high school senior (at the time) to hang my, I'm sure to them, quite novice artwork.

But though I knew there was a possibility they would laugh in my face when I asked...I asked.

And they didn't laugh.  They were definitely taken very offguard.  They didn't really know what to say.  But they told me they'd consider it, and that sounded great to me!

I think you can probably smell the conclusion of this one...they agreed to the show, and a few months later, I stood in the art club, surrounded by my work and only my work, with people filing through the door to attend the opening of my first-ever solo exhibit.

It was incredible that they said yes, but I will never ever forget the way they said yes.

The president wrote me a letter that said..."after considering your idea, we cannot see why not."

WE CANNOT SEE WHY NOT.

Give asking for what you want a try, and you will not get this response everytime.  But I can almost guarantee that if you go at it with the right attitude, you will get this answer WAY more often than you would ever think.

Broadly speaking, I think I've decided

on my life goal.

>I want people to look at me<

and all the things I've done in my life

and say

"How does she do it all"?

She's gonna be beautiful, beautiful!, I'm tellin ya's, just like Marilyn Monroe...

I just got done writing a bit.  And yes, I mean writing, actual old-school writing...you know, with a pen instead of a keyboard?  My hand is cramped.  I'm not used to this pen-ma-jigger-hickey.

It's been awhile since I've added a post.  Oh, but it seems that I'm writing a play.

So see ya when I see ya, blogga.

Make sure you don't leave the refrijj open.

Do Not Get Stoned Before You Do the Above Two Steps

"Stoners discovered that Pink Floyd's The Dark Side of the Moon syncs up perfectly with the movie The Wizard of Oz. Here's how you do it:
1.)Start the film.
2.)When the MGM lion roars for the third time, press play on your music player.
3.) Now get stoned. Do not get stoned before you do the above two steps, or you will probably mess up."

--from The Pocket DJ by Sarah Lewitinn

fUriOuS

My life
it's so
inspired~*
fuck,
you set
my heart
on
fire

I miss forever

My heart feels miles away tonight.

go ahead

A muse.
Amuse me.

beautiful.

"Fingers pause / above piano keys for the chord / that will not form. Slam them down / I say. Make music of what you can."

The night I went out for cookies

I am going to get my hopes up.
And I'm going to storm this Earth.
I'm going to put my faith into all I want, and feel everything they tell me not to feel.
And I'm going to get hurt--I'll get hurt a million times.
I'll cry and I'll sob, but I'll just end up wanting even more.
And after I get it wrong,
and get it wrong,
and get it wrong a hundred thousand times,
one day, I am going to get it right.
And no one can take that away from me.

My Hope

I really hope that what I write means something,
to someone out there,
because it means so much to me.

I'm in love, and I've never even met him...

So I was reading Reader's Digest again, just flipping through the pages absent-mindedly, dreading going out in the cold to take my dog for yet another pee, when I saw him.

Jeff Deck is his name.  I don't really like the name Jeff. I don't really like the name Deck.  But what that man can do with a little ink just makes me tremble in my readers.

Deck is the founder of a magical organization called TEAL: "Typo Eradication Advancement League."

 This...glorious, glorious man has made it his goal to, get this, travel the US with a few tools and his own post-grammar school inteligence, correcting sins against the English language wherever he goes.

Call me the biggest nerd of all time, but it irks me to no end when people who are responsible for creating ads and making signs and billboards that the general public (including impressionable young children, eek!) see on a daily basis make grammatical errors that a kindergartener should be shamed for.

It's "women's" not "womens'."  "Less" does not mean "fewer."  And yes, I WILL notice, not to mention become extremely uncomfortable, if you use the wrong form of to/two/too.  Is it that difficult to learn your own damn language?

"I started thinking about how I could change the world in my own humble way," said my future husband.

Granted, he's not fighting malaria in economically substandard countries, but he's fighting stupidity, which I'd say is an admirable (and necessary) battle.

So bravo, Deck, and may the grammar gods guide you to victory.

*note: If you really do think I am insane, please watch the movie "Idiocracy." That is all.

Random stuff I read in Reader's Digest that amused me

"In God we trust. All others, bring data."

"Friends are God's way of apologizing to us for our families."

And this one is silly, but I love it:
"What did the zero say to the eight?" "Nice belt!" (I really had to think about that for a minute.)

hehe.

hmm

I have a cool idea of something I want to post on here...but it's kinda risky if I do it honestly!

I was reading through old journals of mine, and I've gone through so much on those pages.  I kind of want to pick a starting point, and choose pages randomly (maybe every tenth or something) up until now and post what I wrote, or the gist of what I wrote.

Anyone who writes on even a semi-regular basis can attest to how obvious the evolution of a person can be through the precious thoughts that they deemed important enought to keep over a period of time.  It's fascinating to me to see how far I have come in some areas, and how astounding it is that some areas of my life give me the exact same problems they did years ago.

I'm going to think on this one, but I'll probably do it soon!

Am I fatally flawed,

...or flawlessly fatal?

Haiku by me, reader of much Japanese poetry

Despite the day,
the night is always
silent.

genius

"The force of will to make all the mistakes necessary to get the right answer--that is really the power of genius."
--Michio Kaku

I want to see beneath you, around you and inside.

Can I line your body in ink,
wrap your fingers with curves of my own?
Trace your edges, back and forth,
until I get the lines
just right?
Peel off
your layers
of outer excess,
and paint dewey swirls all over your chest?
Dot your eyes with specks of light...
lover, can I draw you tonight?

This goes out to/ the one I /ruin/ goes out to the one I /love

Beauty is my
weakness my
undoing my
destruction it
will surely be
the end of me
because it's all I see
in you.

Good night, Blogger.

Wow I need to go to sleep.
It's already 3:22 a.m., Monday, March 1, 2010.
Good night, moon.
Good night, brain.

[I wish I had an off-switch.]

I was looking out the window one night when I saw the truth and the lies, and feared I did not know the difference

The walls of this room
baracade me in-
my fortress, my
destruction.

They warp and bend,
standing white and
rigid before me,
allowing in only
patches of
light.

Their peep holes gazing
down at me,
laugh.

They hold me
in as we float, rough and tumbling,
smooth as glass through the universe.

...These walls suck the life right
out of me;
they suck the life right out.

A few poems I'm bending around about the Indian god, Kama

Oh,
Kama...
why must you torture me so?

----------------------------------

Kama,
is that you?
Or just an unfamiliar wind...?

A wind I stirred myself,
long before the world
had taught me any better,
about what it's like
to spend these nights
alone--
stretched out weary on an endless bed of
black?

me again

I think in stanzas.

I paint, therefore I am...a human canvas. God, I'm a mess.

I'm painting an egg.  Not painting on an egg, but painting a representation of an egg.

Oh, and it has legs.  Long, sexy, female legs, perched atop a pair of scanty, hot pink hooker heels.

My original intention was to make both elements of this piece, the legs and the egg, excruciatingly realistic looking, creating an odd juxtaposition forcing viewers outside of the zone of the familiar.

Yeah, this was great plan until two things happened.

one). I got sick of looking at all that beige/peachy/white and pale apricot.  I decided to incorporate some color when my frustration got the best of me and suggested that I paint a large red/orange stroke down the left leg of this ethereal and kinky creature, and so I did.

Now there is an irresistable assault of color winding up her leg, overtaking the pale blah-ness of what we see when we aren't really looking hard enough.

two.) I bought this wretched paint.  I can't blame the paint, I know.  Only the artist can be blamed if her work is anything but fantastic, yet I guess I must admit I was feeling lazy and didn't want to deal with the putrid result of that ucky yellow that was sort of like the oclor of a sick pea.

SO. Here's my egg, with one leg covered in color, the other in seductive black thigh-highs.  I was really thinking of turning the egg part into a sort of Easter egg, I guess you could call it, with the colors migrating from the leg up onto the meat of the thing, but I decided maybe no.

Maybe, if I leave the color only on the leg, it's waspy tentacles falling just short of the creature's "body," I could create a kind of uncomfortable dissonance for viewers.  Why stop at the leg? they might think. 

Maybe I can create a real conversation piece insead of just a tribute to the already-been-done, eh?

Who knows. There's still quite a lot of paint to be flung.

My favorite speech of a Midsummer Night's Dream

THESEUS:
More strange than true: I never may believe
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover and the poet
Are of imagination all compact:
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination,
That if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear!

Essence is not of the time

Time does not exist.

Should that not be a comfort?

Time is merely another human construct, our mortal way of attempting to explain the unexplainable, a theory marred by inferiority.

Then where are we in this "time," the fruit of our creation?

I think that while we are "here," in the 21st century, walking questions swarmed all around with cell phones and facebook invites, "here" and "now" are purely relative terms.

No, I'm not high. I'm just thinking. And this is probably the reason I should never be!

To be

I think that if I had to choose the biggest component of success, I would say that it is a belief, deep in your being, that you are meant for something greater than to live and then die. A belief that you are meant to change things, and live on, far after your soul has ascended into the firmament of uncertainty.

I think
that's all
I know.

me

I feel that I am three different people, caught in the body of one, and I have no idea how to reconcile myself.

Marilyn on a Thursday night, and then...

"It's woman's spirit and mood a man has to stimulate in order to make sex interesting. The real lover is the man who can thrill you by touching your head or smiling into your eyes or just staring into space."
— Marilyn Monroe

I see my phone sitting lonesome on the nightstand. It doesn't deserve my touch.

"The body is meant to be seen, not all covered up."
— Marilyn Monroe

Deep down, all below it all, there is still
warmth.

"It's not true that I had nothing on. I had the radio on."
— Marilyn Monroe

And it played me
a bunch of lost music, that was always there,
I'd just forgotten about it.

"Well behaved women rarely make history."
— Marilyn Monroe

And sometimes at night
on nights like these I look
outside.

"If you're gonna be two-faced at least make one of them pretty."
— Marilyn Monroe

A chill runs down my sides. It runs
and runs
as if from me,
tiny hairs rise and fall-
electrified.

"Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring."
— Marilyn Monroe (Marilyn: Her Life in Her Own Words)

"I am good, but not an angel. I do sin,
but I am not the devil. I am just
a small girl in a big world trying to
find someone to love."
— Marilyn Monroe

Can you ever really leave
without leaving
your scent
on the pillow?

"Women who seek to be equal with men lack ambition."
— Marilyn Monroe

I cry.

""I knew I belonged to the public and to the world, not because I was talented or even beautiful, but because I had never belonged to anything or anyone else.""
— Marilyn Monroe

These ones, these ones reeeeally got me

"...I envy you, drunk with flowers
butterflies swirling in your dreams."

I want to swirl
too.

But if I can't swirl
with you, then
what?

Sometimes when I listen to songs, I change them as they change me, just not as much

"How it's bound to be
a heartbreak situation...
I can't fight it anymore--what you're givin'
I an happy to be--the way I feel
in your arms.
Isn't really somethin' I should do...
I should try to be strong, but all the pleasure
is worth
all the pain.
I know all about,
lovin' you."

>>>>I wrote this as a response to LeAnn Rimes' "Right Kind of Wrong"--it is a mishmash of the lyrics--all her own lyrics, all my own order and combination.

Some poems (by others) that I adore, and then I swear I am doing my homework

The following are all poems I read in a compilation of Victorian verse.

They are: The Beasts, by Walt Whitman; Absent Yet Present, by Lord Lytton; Annabel Lee by Edgar Allen Poe; Turst Thou Thy Love, by John Ruskin; and The Old Squire, by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt.

Each poem is separated from the others by a dashed line---------------------------


The Beasts, by Walt Whitman

I think I could turn and live with animals
They are so placid and self-contained,
I stand and look at them long and long.
They do not sweat and whine about their condition,
They do no lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God,
Not one is dissatisfied,
Not one is demented with the mania of owning things,
Not one kneels to another,
Nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago,
Not one is respectable or industrious over the whole earth.


--------------------------------------

Absent Yet Present, by Lord Lytton

As the flight of a river
That flows to the sea
My soul rushes ever
In tumult to thee.

A twofold existence
I am where thou art:
My heart in the distance
Beats close to thy heart.

Look up, I am near thee,
I gaze on thy face:
I see thee, I hear thee,
I feel thine embrace.

As the magnet's control on
The steel it draws to it,
Is the charm of thy soul on
The thoughts that pursue it.

And absence but brightens
The eyes that I miss,
And custom but heightens
The spell of thy kiss.

It is not from duty,
Though that may be owed,-
It is not from beauty,
Though that be bestowed:

But all that I care for,
And all that I know,
Is that, without wherefore,
I worship thee so.

Through granite it breaketh
A tree to the ray:
As a dreamer forsaketh
The grief of the day,

My soul in its fever
Escapes unto thee:
O dream to the griever!
O light to the tree!

A twofold existence
I am where thou art:
Hark, hear in the distance
The beat of my heart!

------------------------------------

Annabel Lee by Edgar Allen Poe

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

--------------------------------------------

Trust Thou Thy Love, by John Ruskin

Trust thou thy Love: if she be proud, is she not sweet?
Trust thou thy Love: if she be mute, is she not pure?
Lay thou thy soul full in her hands, low at her feet;
Fail, Sun and Breath!--yet, for thy peace, She shall endure.

------------------------------------------

The Old Squire, by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

I Like the hunting of the hare
Better than that of the fox;
I like the joyous morning air,
And the crowing of the cocks.

I like the calm of the early fields,
The ducks asleep by the lake,
The quiet hour which Nature yields
Before mankind is awake.

I like the pheasants and feeding things
Of the unsuspicious morn;
I like the flap of the wood-pigeon’s wings
As she rises from the corn.

I like the blackbird’s shriek, and his rush
From the turnips as I pass by,
And the partridge hiding her head in a bush,
For her young ones cannot fly.

I like these things, and I like to ride,
When all the world is in bed,
To the top of the hill where the sky grows wide,
And where the sun grows red.

The beagles at my horse heels trot
In silence after me;
There ’s Ruby, Roger, Diamond, Dot,
Old Slut and Margery,—

A score of names well used, and dear,
The names my childhood knew;
The horn, with which I rouse their cheer,
Is the horn my father blew.

I like the hunting of the hare
Better than that of the fox;
The new world still is all less fair
Than the old world it mocks.

I covet not a wider range
Than these dear manors give;
I take my pleasures without change,
And as I lived I live.

I leave my neighbors to their thought;
My choice it is, and pride,
On my own lands to find my sport,
In my own fields to ride.

The hare herself no better loves
The field where she was bred,
Than I the habit of these groves,
My own inherited.

I know my quarries every one,
The meuse where she sits low;
The road she chose to-day was run
A hundred years ago.

The lags, the gills, the forest ways,
The hedgerows one and all,
These are the kingdoms of my chase,
And bounded by my wall;

Nor has the world a better thing,
Though one should search it round,
Than thus to live one’s own sole king,
Upon one’s own sole ground.

I like the hunting of the hare;
It brings me, day by day,
The memory of old days as fair,
With dead men passed away.

To these, as homeward still I ply
And pass the churchyard gate,
Where all are laid as I must lie,
I stop and raise my hat.

I like the hunting of the hare;
New sports I hold in scorn.
I like to be as my fathers were,
In the days e’er I was born.

"images, undying love"...for John Lennon, of course

Words are flying out like/ endless rain into a paper cup/ Jai guru deva...ommmmmmm

and this, my singular obsession

I once shook hands with happiness
some night so late
it was early.
I didn't get a glimpse of
his eyes,
so quickly did he go...
for some reason, though, I tend to think
they were a shade
of emerald green.
His grasp was strong
like the tide
except not driven by any moon.
And when I asked him for the time
he said only
that he didn't have one.
Perplexed
I thanked him anyway
and he tipped his hat to me
and off he went.

I once heard that finding a soul mate is sort of like one person's "recognition of their counterpoint in another," but personally, I'm just not sure

There was a guy outside the library.
He was leaving, headed out those double doors that
way too often read "closed" and I,
I was coming
up those stairs, ready to enter another world,
needing to get inside
someone else's thoughts, for mine had grown me weary and then
he stopped.
He looked at me with a recognition of sorts, an air of
serendipity about him and I,
I averted him with every step,
but his eyes washed me over--
still...fixing me.
He could never
fix me
so I
kept walking
in my polka-dotty rain boots,
closing up
my matching umbrella as I approached those fickle doors,
but he kept on
and even though I kind of denied it, I knew I knew
that unfamiliar feeling that someone had noticed
something in me,
right off the bat,
and stopped.
I kept going, but then he spoke--"You braved the weather..."
I smiled, sort of
laughed,
dodging his halted form, there in front of that place he was leaving,
that place that I was going, only just arriving.
There was an awkward moment in those doors
where I paused,
thought to let him in
but I, only reasoning, resigned
looked away
was shy and decided
I didn't really know where he was headed and then
he smiled again.
He said good-bye.
But even so, his eyes
kept right on prodding....questioning, playful and aloof.
And mine answered back with an Idon'tknow, and an
Idon'tthinkthiswouldbe,
and I closed the doors, still in hot pursuit of something new.
I closed the doors
and now I'll always wonder
just where it was
that he was going.

and I take my daily dose of chili peppers...every day, that's right

Take me to the place I love,
where poetry flies around
like birds and I
can be

Without ever being forced to realize
just how much being
I am doing.

Take me to the place
where music beats to the sound
of my footsteps on the path of my choosing
and plays, cold in the chilly nights.

The chilly nights that I
don't even notice, so warm am I, wrapped up in
thoughts, uniquely mine--
they're spilling onto every surface, now.

Take me to that place of mine,
that place of my construction,
where I might paint the sky
and write the rhythms of the seasons,

As letters fall from my mouthy trees like
leaves in autumn,
coating the ground in
the possibility of
so much
color.

I love I love I love!

I think I think I think too much,
and I'm very efficient at wasting time.

i love this

a "schizophrenic sensory overload..." mmMm.

So I had this idea...

Whenever you are feeling blue, it is nice to have an idea of what it is that makes you happy in order to cheer yourself up again. Sure, music and pushups are both great ways to pull yourself out of a yuck-mood and get your happy back, but these won't necessarily work for everyone. These are the small things, the personal techniques that some people use--everybody has something. Drawing, eating, watching something funny; these activities vary, and may or may not always be successful.
But what are the big things that make people happy? What is the mother of all happiness-inducers, that which applies to just about everyone, just about all of the time?
And if we could find this thing, this key to happiness, how much could it change people's lives if only they kept it in mind as they lived their lives, perhaps especially calling it to memory when things got rough?

I have thought a lot on this subject, and I am pretty pleased with my answer thus far in my life.

What, in my opinion, is the key to happiness?

Well, I'd say that it is two-fold.

1.) Appreciation.

If you could look at your life for a moment with completely unbiased eyes, you would see how much beauty touches it every single day. You would notice, really notice, all of the wonderful people you have been blessed to know, the talents and positive traits that you embody, and the little, small things that make you smile, here and there, every day. I think that truly seeing all of the beauty in your life and focusing on that instead of the parking ticket you got last Wednesday makes it pretty difficult to be anything other than happy.

2.) Sense of Humor.

Laugh. Every day. At everything, and everyone. Laugh at your brother. Laugh at a movie. Laugh at your goofy physics teacher. But most importantly, make it a point to laugh at YOURSELF. Admittedly, sometimes life can be really serious, and really sad. But if you can find the humor in day to day situations--if you can see the lighter side of life and of yourself and realize just how silly everyone and everything can seem, you will be the person who spends more time smiling than frowning. The person who spends more time smiling than making that nothing/blah face that so many people wear regularly and the one that I can't stand to look at. Few things in this life are certain, but one thing that I can say with absolute certainty, is that when I get old (God willing), I hope that my laugh lines are as deep as my years will allow.

But now that I've told you what I think, I wonder...what do you think? And you, and you, and you???

What would other people say is the key to happiness? What wonderful bits of knowledge do we have that we might be able to share with one another?
I want to know what you think, so I am going to ask.

I'm going to use facebook as my vehicle, and post the responses I get on my blog. So wish me luck!

To be continued...
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And....continued! Here are the amazing answers I have received so far! Thanks for contributing!

"As for my reply the short answer would have to be a sense of purpose and love, in which ever order suites you. To feel as if you've accomplished something and to have a sense of purpose for the moment and for the moments to come puts life into perspective, I feel. It makes it easier to wake up the next day and try try try again and thus increases one's level of happiness. And to have love makes it all worth while. It doesn't have to be the romantic love we fantisize on the silver screen or in our own imaginiations, but even as simple as loving oneself can make or break the experience that is life. To love what you do and how you do it makes the accomplishment taste all the more sweet and the sweat you put into achieving that purose worth the effort. To quote the beautiful musical Moulin Rouge, 'love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love'."

-Tisha Farris, University of Pittsburgh graduate with Bachelors degree in Environmental Studies and Yogini at Santa Fe Community Yoga Center

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"The first thing that came to my mind, was Self-Worth. Having low self-esteem most of my life created a spiral of unhappiness. Realizing my self-worth (which came from finding success in life) changed my entire outlook on life.


Secondly... acceptance. I suppose for me, acceptance strongly correlates with satisfaction. I mean this in an absolutely positive way. I learned to accept that certain things weren't going to go my way, or certain people weren't going change, or certain memories would always be painful--- this led me to remove myself from the hurtful people, situations and problems that I could. I accepted defeats and failures-- and because I knew that I had tried everything in my power, I was satisfied with the outcome. Maybe not happy ... or sad... but satisfied.


Kind of like the serenity prayer, 'God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference'."

-Melanie Steuernagel
Special Education Teacher at Derry Area Senior High School and mommy of one Aubrey Rose Steuernagel

Feng Shui, hey hey hey! (article I did for the Pitt News)

Want to amass wealth and good fortune, improve your health, and get more loving than a bunny rabbit in heat?

If so, good news: with a quick flick of the broom and a little bit of design sense, these benefits and more are yours for the taking. That is, if you buy into the ancient Chinese school of thought known as Feng Shui.

According to About.com, Feng Shui developed over 3,000 years ago in China and is based on the Taoist belief that the land around us is alive and contains ch’i (pronounced “chee”), or “energy.”

This philosophy is highly nuanced, with many varying levels of theory and a host of concepts to grasp. It could take years of study to learn even most of what there is to know about the art of using your surroundings to their maximum benefit.

However, luckily for you the overall idea of Feng Shui can be summed up rather nicely: the goal is to maintain an environment that is conducive to the free-flow of ch’i.

One of the most crucial steps to take, then, is to clear out the clutter. It’s the perfect time to do a little spring cleaning, and Feng Shui sources can’t seem to emphasize enough the benefits of reducing the amount of “stuff” that inhabits your living space.

Movie stubs from all eight times you went to see “New Moon” still lying on your nightstand? Toss them (seriously). Old take-out containers from India Garden and Sorrento’s piling up on your kitchen counters? Be gone with them! It may not be your ideal way to spend an afternoon, but come on; do it for your ch’i.

Another necessary ingredient to the Feng Shui recipe for life success is high quality air and lighting. Air purifiers and even plants are great ways to clean up the O2 in your space. As for lighting, natural light is ideal, and thus should be maximized. In addition, fluorescent lighting should be avoided.

Beyond these basics, someone looking to add a little Feng Shui to her life should use an easy-to-make tool known as a Bagua. The Bagua is your guide to learning what parts of your living area correspond to what parts of your life.

Basically, if there is an aspect of your life that is in need of a little sprucing up, increasing the harmony of the corresponding space of your apartment or room might just do the trick, according to Feng Shui believers.

The Bagua can be easily drawn up in about five seconds: draw a square that is divided up into nine boxes, three by three. Then label each box with the following. The first row: Prosperity, Reputation, Love. The second: Health, Heart, Creativity. And, finally, the third: Growth, Career, and Blessings.

You have now created a map that will greatly aid you in applying particular Feng Shui cures to your home. The next step is simply to apply it.

Stand in your doorway, whether it be the door to a house or even just your room, with the third row of the Bagua closest to you. Now look at your floor plan. You will now be able to determine which parts of your space affect which aspects noted on the Bagua.

For example, if your bedroom is in the back right corner of your house, you would look at the Bagua to see which life area corresponds to the back right position, which happens to be love. Therefore, keeping your bedroom free of clutter and maintaining an overall comfortable and clean area would in this case be conducive to your finding great love in your life.

No matter what the Bagua says, however, there are certain tips that apply in general to certain rooms.

I promised you hot lovin’, so let’s cut to the chase and focus on where, as mostly everyone on Cribs says, “the magic happens.”

First, no live plants in the bedroom! Why? No one will say, it seems. But this is really stressed by every Feng Shui source I checked so … don’t do it!

Another key tip for the bedroom is to avoid singularity. If you have a flower in a vase ­— it better be a fake one — add a few more to the vase. If you have a candle placed on an end table, make sure to place another one beside it. If you are going to hang photographs on your wall, best not to display images of one person, but groups and couples instead. This is to ward off loneliness and welcome love into your life.

Speaking of bedroom images, it is important to only hang those that you want to see duplicated in your life. Don’t hang a picture of someone looking distraught unless you too want to feel this way in life.

It is also highly suggested that you avoid putting your bed in line with the doorway of your room. Also, try not to use the area beneath your bed as storage, in order to not disturb the path of the ch’i.

Finally, keep the bedroom under a predominantly yin, rather than yang, influence. Yang objects are those that are associated with loudness, boisterousness, and energy, and include items such as televisions, computers, and exercise equipment.

The bedroom is the space where yin, the essence of calm and rejuvenation, should rule. Keep edges soft, and an overall feel of quiet and relaxation in the bedroom.

Just an interesting tidbit — the back right corner of your living space in addition to the back right corner of any room, according to the Bagua, is the area most influential on sex and love in your life. Therefore, one might want to pay particular attention to what is in the back right corner of their bedroom in order to maximize love and loving in their lives.

In the back right corner of my room, there is a window, and a poster of a Warhol-esque banana,. I wonder what the implications of this on my love life are ...

happy happy joy joy

Okay, so that last post was depressing.

But I can't help it...I just feel like:
school=tough to keep up with.
Friends=amazing, yet require time that I feel like I don't have. Apartment=constantly, consistently, relentlessly a mess that I have to clean.
Talents=awesome, but time-consuming, money-consuming, etc.
Love=evades me at every turn. I am clueless as ever, and will most assuredly self-destruct.
Family=I don't get enough.
Sleep=I don't get enough.
Food=I'm sick of eating my own cooking. I love cooking, but let's be honest; I'm no Barefoot Contessa.
Asti(my canine friend)=I miss him.

Am I done complaining yet, already? This was supposed to be a happy post to make up for the depressing-ness, the depressing mess, of the last post.

Give me another try.

So I'm going to see a play this weekend. Alllll by myself. Why by myself, you ask? Well, I was going to bring a friend. I asked one friend who I never see, but she wasn't able to go. I was going to ask another and then...I didn't. I got online, I bought my ticket (quantity? 1 please!), and I got a little jolt of excitement through my heart: I'm going out on the town, with only me to keep me company.
And even though this might sound hopelessly boring and lonely, for some reason, it's what I want to do!
I feel like no one else would be as excited about this as me, so bringing someone would just make me less pumped.

But really? Why? Because when you go somewhere where no one knows you...where you don't recognize a soul...it is an oppotunity to be anyone you want.

You don't have to be the same old you that you always are. You can be glamorous. Or low key. Or just, comfortable in your own shoes.

Maybe I'll meet someone marvelous. Recognize a soul, after all. Someone I never realized I was living without.

Or maybe I'll just get a much-needed vacation
from myself.

Either way, I'm simply ecstatic.

(See, it got happy there for ya!)

I should have won Most Dramatic in high school

I would love to know what it is that I am doing wrong.

Sometimes I feel like this whole world is against me. Like no matter how hard I push to walk forward, I'm stuck in quicksand. Muck. A ginormous blizzard...

Sometimes it is like I am fighting a constant battle against everything and everyone, chiefly myself.

I love myself and who I am, and I have no problem being friends with "me," yet "me" is often my biggest nemesis...my fickle foe who never seems to want to make peace back.

I feel like I want for things I don't know how to find. Simple things and yet, some might say I shouldn't want them at all.

I used to buy into that, but I believe in what I want. I know that there are some things I shouldn't accept to go on without...right?

I guess I'm just feeling...unfulfilled. Like everything I'm doing just won't pay off, in practically every area of my life.

Am I doing too much? Not enough?

I feel like I could just cry.

I guess despite having all the wonderful people in my life that I do, somehow I still feel so alone sometimes. So lost. So...blah.

1955

Waiting for the call that
never came, from the love who never
knew my name
or heart.

And a little more Seussiness, still

"Being crazy isn't enough."


"Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You."


"If things start happening, don't worry, don't stew, just go right along and you'll start happening too."


"You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams. "


"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not."


— Dr. Seuss

A Seussiest quote from a Seussiest Seuss

"We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love."
— Dr. Seuss

who dat be?

What's done is done is only but a memory,
now.

Maybe I need to lay off the Poe?

poison skin
death mingling with
the folicles, the undersides of
moles

hairs curl back as if to make room for
the gnawing of teeth,
the gnashing of
gums

the tiny eaters
that will take the poison skin
and digest it
like so much filthy rotten muck,
later to drop it--miniscule, forgotten--
into the dirt
amongst the blades
of grass, and grass.

So there's this poem...

by Edgar Allan Poe. It made me want to,
oh I don't know
write it down keep it for ever and a day
I can't even think of a bigger way to say
how it made me feel
except that now
I'll make it real
for you:

"...I was a child and she was a child
In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love--
I and my Annabel Lee,..."

--excerpt from Annabel Lee, by Edgar A. Poe

>>we loved with a love that was more than love
but we loved
with a
loved with a love
but we loved with a loved with a loved with a love
that was more
that was more
than
love<<

--remix, by yours truly, Jordan A. Streussnig

I just learned how to do this...yeah, I'm pretty pumped

Oh, to boldly go where no italic has gone before!

My ode to Valentine's Day

So here's my hand or heart or
daily nothings and
what have you,
whatever you
will have
will have you
back. just thought that you
should know.

Wow, I never knew this

Did you know that gravity doesn't pull, but space pushes...? Because space-time is warped, and massive bodies make impressions within it, the space causes a push on other bodies, what we perceive as the "pull" of gravity?

It's General Relativity, which I always heard about, but never actually knew what it was! cRazinESs

me too

"I want to know God's thoughts."

-Einstein

Well, it seems I only have to decide when I want to get rich

*Note to Self:
invent student shock-collar;
disseminate at bargain price.
Boost grades, keep boring professors in the job,
and potentially save the world.
Become filthy rich,
and oodles more famous than the Snuggie guy.

Wouldn't this be convenient? To have the ability to give yourself a harmless little jolt during the most boring physics class ever?

(This is obviously a joke...however, if only there were a way to do it safely...)

I'll wear my knitted hat, and you just listen

Every night
when I get beneath those
white-out lights and
speak

A little piece of me melts into you
dances through the air
purple
like auras
becoming one

if only for a moment, and then
I step off the stage
Applause rattles low into the hum
of tomorrow
and what is left

but whatever has been revealed?

I was watching the history channel, and then...

"Our virtues and our failings are inseparable, like force and matter. When they separate, man is no more."--Nikola Tesla

And then I picked up the pieces
and realized
nothing was broken.

Ahh sweet of my tooth, where art thou?

I have a question--why is it that when you are hungry, it is possible to call any number of restaurants, pizza shops, etc., and have dinner brought to your door, yet to my knowledge, there is absolutely no magical number at which you can throw some money and receive some sweets in thirty minutes or less.

Seriously--where is the cookie/cake/brownie hotline? Why does Dessert Dial not exist??

Huh!?

Perhaps this will be another one of my life goals...because frankly, I find it ridiculous.

Perhaps there would be fewer angry, PMSing women in the world if only it was easier to find that which we all crave. Is it too much to ask to have fresh cookies scoured with chocolate chip morsels delivered to my door when I feel an attack coming on?

I mean really. I'll tip you--just hand over the goods, dammit!

Finding my charge again

I haven't been living my life to the fullest. That is about to change.

Here's what I'm going to get better at...this is what living life to its fullest means to me, and it is my strident goal to attend to each and every aspect.

Living life to its fullest means always pushing myself to be better and to be more.
Experiencing new people, places, and things regularly.
Throwing myself head first into situations that make me uncomfortable--abandoning my comfort zone--forcing me to learn and grow all the time.
Having a purpose burning inside me--maintaining my excitement for every day and always keeping and enhancing my zest for life.
Never settling--never ever feeling satisfied, complacent, or content.
Always looking for new opportunities and taking as many as I can.
Making the most of every day--never throwing away one single day--seeing each day for what it is--important and an opportunity.
Not half-assing--really applying myself--"If a job is worth doing, it's worth doing well."
Believing in myself to the fullest.
Being always busy and movin' and shakin'.
Being disciplined and free at the same time.
Biting off more than I can chew.
Getting my breath's worth.
Using my talents and living up to my potential every day.
Giving back.
"Don't make excuses, have a reason."

Above a 700...?!

With great happiness, there sometimes comes the fear that a storm wind is preparing to blow.

I'm in no way advocating that having what you want is somehow worse than not having what you want, but even the great joy and satisfaction that goes along with having your dreams come true brings with it a unique kind of trouble.

As Charlotte puts it in one of many adored episodes of Sex and the City, "I'm so happy I'm terrified!...Nobody gets everything they want."

Maybe this is true...or maybe it is true only in degrees, and circumstances. Perhaps we should not be worried when we catch glimpses of perfection, but rather bask in it.

Life, I keep hearing in various song lyrics and reading in the least-likely of places, is only but a series of moments, each offering something unique, something to experience for what it is at the time-being.

Perhaps it is a lesson, and causes us pain. Maybe it is a contradiction that makes us think. Or maybe, every once in awhile, or more depending on how optimistic you are, life is a big slice of Heaven, served up just the way you like it.

Actually, here's a thought: maybe when we are blessed enough to experience an incredible week, or month, or moment, it is life's way of telling us to hang on, there's more great stuff to come. Or it might just be a lesson in how to be happy; might be telling us to drink up the feeling, make an impression of our state of mind to keep for later times when the going isn't so easy.

Whatever it may mean or teach us though, true happiness and peace are elusive little buggers, so grab on tight, and don't look back! Or around the corner. Or up to see if there's an anvil about to fall on your head.

Just dig it, man.

Don't go but

I won't be happy if I lose,
but I won't be losing if I'm happy...:)

I'm sorry

I felt like I had taken a hammer to
every good thing
we had,
smashing it
to
pieces.

I felt like I had
almost
smashed him,
but not quite.

Like I had half-smashed him, and then left.
With no way to finish the job.
No way
to put him out
of his misery.

I swear it wasn't me

Sitting at a party...on the ledge of a wall in the middle of no-one-can-see-me-here, she was approached.

He walked up to her with drunken swagger and said: "You are way (emphasis on the 'way') too sexy to be sitting there."

Completely missing his meaning (come dance with me), she said: "Where do the sexy people usually sit...?"