Fleeting Colors

We're constantly searching for colors in our world and we find them in the fleeting traces of nature: the inspiration of a rainbow, a sunset.  do we ever find the glory of the sun at noon worthy of a picture or a drawing?  No.  the sun at noon is quite like the sun the rest of the day.

no need to celebrate mundaneness.  

Perhaps that's why the life of school and homework seems so unimportant, we live them for most of our awareness.  School will be a treat when we no longer have to learn everyday.  No wonder people look at us like we're stupid when we say school is boring; we have the opportunities that stop existing; we throw away knowledge that we will long to remember.

Cherishing the ride on the bus I take a moment to ponder the way we describe our lives: the disinterest, the regret.  We find interesting the things we'll deal with forever-we don't appreciate what's fleeting.  

If all we've ever seen is the beauty of the sunrise, how can we delight in it?  How can those in the day remember the need to see the full sun?  We long for the colors we cannot see-for the time that is not ours.

Pathetic Fallacy

Today the sky attempted to rain.

The winter of San Francisco has set in and is freezing us all with these not-so-low lows and the pending doom looms over.  It didn't actually rain; there were drops falling from the sky but never in large quantities.  Drops of issues are showing the way that the heavens are going to open up and dump on us but not yet.  For now we only get the crummy feeling that we can't quite run from.

Why is it that cold days represent bad moods and sunny days are happy?  Why is it ironic to be sad on a golden day and happy when its gray?  I want to dance through the fog and cry in the park-emotions aren't controlled by the scenery but we notice what we are feeling.

ok we all have issues.  we all are going to have problems with each other once in a while.  But telling someone you were ticked off at them without giving them a reason why is not going to help the problem.  Either this is something you want to fix, and we can work together on it, or you are letting this die because I am willing to help and you are the one killing that possibility.

Forgotten

Pictures in a lost photo album, music left undiscovered in a stack of old cd's, a performer hidden from the spotlight, a friend standing across the room with no one noticing...

I'm not sure if I'm feeling forgotten right now or just misplaced-maybe I'll be found soon.  Lately I've been finding all these things in my house, like these photo albums my mom made while i was growing up.  In all the pictures I look so happy.  Of course i also look completely ridiculous but it doesn't seem to matter.  

Now everything has consequences that don't always make sense-she's annoyed because I went home sick, he's being mean to me so that he'll like another girl...and somehow in the midst of it, I can tell that I lose myself.  Even when I just want to be happy about something, some part of my brain is trying to figure out everything else that is going on.  With this reasoning, I'm always being left out of something: mainly things I don't even want to do.   The problem is that the people I would want to be talking to have managed to find other friends and not be so dependent-they have figured out how to be fine without talking to me and I don't want to be the one dragging down their happiness.  It's nothing I can be mad at anyone for, especially since I'm sure I've missed someone feeling this way before.  In turn it makes me a worse friend because I become self-involved and notice my own complaints rather than listening to what people have to say.  The only time I feel truly myself and with other people is when I'm on stage being someone else completely.  Constantly performing as myself, I can never find the right lines or meaning.

a blog.

over the years, i've kept many diaries-its fun to find one and add a new entry to the previous random compilation of feelings and thoughts.  is a blog the same thing?  a place to add random thought splurts that we don't have time to share with others or the conversation to lead it there?  At least a diary or journal or whatever is something private-something to keep to ourselves-but a blog opens up this sense of comfort in sharing information with other people.  why is it that blogs are so appealing?  I can't see or feel your reaction to what i'm saying-does that help me say something controversial?  blogs have popped up with topics of depth to the boring day-to-day processes of life.  there's event things like twitter where you literally say everything that is going on-why would people want to read that?  why are you reading this anyway?  is it because you want to know my thoughts?  why not just ask me?  but apparently I feel the need to share with you without talking.  The internet has opened up ways of keeping in touch without knowing anyone-like being friends with someone on facebook that you've met once-shortly-if that.  Yet somehow there is this connection from seeing their photos and you feel you know them.  well...we don't.  We don't know people anymore as long as the main source of communication is through things like this without direct contact.  Somehow this typing rant of thoughts is entertaining and good for both you and me-so i guess its worth it.  if only i could see your reactions...

Blue

Song lyrics from a bit ago that never got a song and the "you"s refer to different people as the song progresses:

Everyday going through the paces

of the ending endless life I'm not living.

The day is hazy full of ambiguity

never answering my questions

nor giving what I need.

and then i walk outside

and its bright blue

and I walk over to you

and see my world is true

and there's something that's worth doing

in this time that we have left

the blue day comes.

well i see the world around me

carrying on through the glass

and i'm stuck in the world of flat colors

full of people looking for depth

and they can never find it in the beige of the ceiling

and then i walk outside

and its bright blue

and i walk over to you

and see my world is true

and there's something that's worth doing

in this time that we have left

the blue day comes.

They search for darkness

and dawn their fake black

that has no more inspiration

than the pit of nothingness inside.

Then there are those who search for happy

and come back with the matte blue:

with nothing more than the reflection

of the color they are looking for.

and i walk outside

and its bright blue

and i walk over to you

and see my world is true

and there's something that's worth doing

in this time that we have left

the blue day comes.

For hours staring at the sky

watching patterns pass me by

the colors fade from dusk to night

and I dream you're holding me tight

loving the wondrous depth of the world

surrounding me, surrounding us

and then its back to gray.

The Weekend

I wrote this poem a while ago but oh well:

Weekend parties,

time with friends,

school-free,

or so I've heard.

Time Passes,

words dropped

upon the keyboard,

sitting, staring, all alone

except for the constant thought of the

Weekend.

Rest from life,

no rest at all,

need to do,

to do no thing,

that's all i've heard

and think about

The week ends.