Showing posts from 2014

Italy Journal: Week 3 - Firenze


We toured the Uffizzi gallery. Honestly, I've seen so many good Renaissance and Baroque art that I was really bored. I left earlyish with people, but ended up with Tim going home. I got a cobalt leather bag and we stopped for food. We had a very awkward but genuine conversation about social situations in the class. I stayed up late because I decided not to go to Cinque Terra. If I was tired and achy after a couple hours in Firenze, then a whole day of walking wasn't going to be much fun. I have seen so many beautiful things already, and I need to rest and let my cold go away entirely.


I slept and watched vids and wrote and painted and sat outside talking with G-dragon and Donghae. It was somewhat helpful.


Nothing. The same things. Homework. I miss Netflix.


Class day. Honestly, some of these days are just normal school days, except that I eat pasta every lunch and dinner and have a great view of Florence from my campus. So, relatively normal. …

Italy Journal: Week 2 - Assisi and Firenze


Technically, we started the day in Rome, but we left at 8:30 in the morning. Assisi is beautiful. It's a little mountain town with an amazing view and streets that go up and down, moving with the hillside. Our hotel was very small, but nice. Our room was cold and the bathroom was warm. We dispersed for lunch and returned to the square in front of the hotel for our tour. The guide's name was Francesco like St. Francis and had a great sense of humour. His catchphrase was "am I clear?" It was very surreal to see St. Francis' tomb. I got tears in my eyes. Learning more about him and what he stood for has given me new resolve for what I want to do in my life. Not with my life - I'm called to write, I know that - but what else I'm going to do. I've wanted to study other languages for a while, and now I will have the time. I'll probably pick up French again eventually, but I really want to learn Korean. Not just because I love k-pop. I think it&…

Italy Journal: Week 1 - Rome


I have been awake for 26+ hours. My body tells me that it's 11 am and it's grumpy that I pulled an all nighter. As per usual, I didn't sleep on the plane. The Amsterdam airport was interesting. We walked a crazy route to get to our gate. At the MSP airport, since we were flying international, we were in a different section. The waiting area had a bunch of iPads so I spent the time reading Deadman Wonderland online. My travel team is Jonathan, Joel, Jillian, Micah and Danny. Our name is the Misfits and it really suits us. We're a motley bunch.
I'm currently in my hotel room in Rome. It's small. We walked out to see the bus stop and learn how the system works. In this hour before dinner, I'm keeping my mind busy  so I don't fall asleep. I'm.So.Tired.


Today we went into Rome for our first tour. We had an excellent guide named Suzanne. We toured the Colosseum and the Roman Forum. The Colosseum was smaller than I thought it would be, bu…

Paper Matchstick Parade

My whole body is one big bruise I can't walk 'cause all my bones are broken My whole head has been throbbing for weeks I can't speak 'cause my heart is broken
I need an iceberg to cool the heat in my cheeks I need a bonfire to warm my whitened fingertips I need an avalanche to wake me from this sleep I need danger for my survival instincts To finally kick in
I want to light a fire to burn my frozen lungs I want someone to hold me while I still feel young My candles have gone out and I feel so afraid I'm trying to be stronger in the wake of pain
My tongue is tremblin' while I stumble over the words But nothing can be said when silence is preferred I'm barely holding onto life so I won't fade away I'm burnt and trapped in this paper matchstick parade
My brain is circling like birds around a lake I can't think 'cause my head is hurting My heart is beating like a pounding drum I can't breathe 'cause throat is burning
I need a volcano to make me move my feet I…

Written in the Stars

Tell me what you want from me
And I'll be making history
I can hear your heartbeat from a mile away
You can protest all you like
Our fate is written in the sky
We will be together one day

I know that you like me
Don't you know I like you
Why do hide your smile?
I'm ready to jump in
Come on, come with me
I've been waiting quite a while

I'll tell you what I what from you
Your hand, a kiss, a lovely view
Can you hear my heartbeat from a mile away?
No protesting from this girl
Only one in all the world
I wanna be with every day

Stars exploding in your eyes
I want to see that every night
Take my hand, we'll be all right
Wish upon a falling star
I want to be just where you are
You completely hold my heart
We were written in the stars

Tell me what you want from me
And we'll be making history
I can hear your heartbeat from a mile away
Spend our time just how we like
Our fate is written in the sky
You and me, for always

Now you know I like you
I know that you like m…

I am Not Dead

Death has no face, death has no name
But cold uncertainty
Unless, by light and blood and grace
Were giv'n eternity
Come! Come now away!
He calls me from the boat
The moonlight wanes, the sirens strain
To keep their songs afloat
I was prepared, I knew the day
I had no fear or shame
When clinging to the windowsill
A lonely spirit came
But after morbid whispers hushed
I turned a frozen cheek
And hand in hand, from beating heart
My spirit went from me
A shadowed veil, come light, prevail
I must not tarry here
Death has me led and would be wed
And keep me staid for years
But here is not where I belong
I was't promised hope of life
After darkness, after grief
Must come eternal light
A sweet refrain is calling me
Past sorrow and past death
His lonesome howl, his features foul
Pitiable, never blessed
Cannot be sung, cannot be spoken
Dirges lose their meaning
The heav'nly mirror, all coming clearer
A glassy sea, and freedom
I, welcomed home, would cry if I
Had tears that I could shed
But I know nothing else but joy

Story Opener

For the first few years of my life, I thought all people lived in the deep woods. I thought that humans were naturally nocturnal, craving the dark and the instinctual way of walking by ear instead of sight. Mother told me that normal humans slept at night, doing their business during the day. I considered this, and went on to conclude that our breed of human was special and superior. I didn't understand at the time that we weren't actually human.

Some Things

Some songs aren't meant to be sung
Until all the last shades of sun
Have left the sky an infinite deepening blue

Some words aren't meant to be spoken
Until all the last pages have been written
And the stories therein have run out

Some hurts aren't meant to be felt
Until all the mists have rolled back
Into the pall of dusky evening 

Some things aren't meant to be known
Until the last days of knowing
Have come and gone and all is ended


There is more to walking than your feet on the ground. Yes, it is your feet on the ground, off the ground, on the ground again. But walking require direction, an decision. You choose a direction. You decide to lift one foot off the ground and move. The process repeats, and you are walking. But while you are walking, there is a sort of living. You are consciously moving in a direction of your choice. Isn't that was life is? So, life is like walking. Life is like your feet on the ground, off the ground, on the ground again. First there is breathing, then there is thinking, then there is moving. And in between, living.


There is more than breathing. Breathing is what you do first, when you wake up, before you start singing, as you dive into the water. But after the breathing, that is your life. So many choices, so many opportunities, so many places to go and things to see. There are your hands. First, you breathe, so your hands can move. Then, you use them. You build something, you paint a picture, you write a book. There are your eyes. First, you breathe, so your eyes can function. Then, you use them. You witness a storm, you watch a movie, you read a book. All the while, you are breathing, but more importantly, all the while, you are living. Breathing is basic. Breathing is essential. Breathing is first and breathing is last. And in between, living.

God in a Box

They hate him!
They spit in his face!
At least they would if he still had a place
But no, he is gone!
Put away under locks
Can you really get mad at a god in a box?
They don't want his help
So they abolish His laws
They broke all His statutes
That highlight their flaws
They think he is cruel
And barely existent
But blame Him for evil
And so aren't consistent
They plot his demise
And deny their own rage
Is there sense is abhoring a god in a cage?

Supernatural Fan Fiction (what have I come to?)

"What the--?" Ree sat up, gasping for breath. Clinging to the wall, she got shakily to her feet.
"You okay?" Sam reached out a hand to steady her. Ree pushed off from the wall and all but fell into Sam's arms. "Woah, easy there. Here, sit, sit." He guided her to the portion of a dusty couch not covered by shards of glass.
"I'll be okay, you know that. Just," she flopped back on the sawdust covered cushions, "that hurt. Ah, that one hurt." Ree reached a hand up to her head. It came away red. She traced the cut gingerly; it had sealed and the skin was already beginning knit together again. "I can get Dean now."
"I'm all right."
Ree pulled herself up from the couch, glaring at Dean. "Don't be an idiot. Let me see your arm." She put her hands on the jagged cuts and closed her eyes. Seconds later, she shuddered and staggered back. "There. Now let's torch the place and go." She turned …

Name Creation #3

S-Z Sand Sea Shade Shadow Shard Shield Silver Singer Skull Smith Song Soul Spear Spell Spirit Staff Stalker Star Stone Storm Strider Strong Summer Sun Swift Sword Talon Tamer Thief Thistle Thorn Thunder Time Titan Walker Ward Water Weaver Whisper Wielder Wild Willow Wind Winter Wraith Wyrm

Name Creation #2

G-R Gem Ghost Giant Giver Gold Golden Green Griffin Hammer Hand Haven Hawk Head Heart Hex Horn Hunter Ice Iron Jade Jewel Leaf Legend Life Light Lion Lotus Mask Mender Mist Moon Myth Night Owl Pearl Petal Pyre Rain Rainbow Raven Red Rider River Rose Ruby Runner

Name Creation

Surname creation by combining two words e.g. "Skywalker"  The majority I got from the characters creator of Wizard101. A-F: Anvil Ash Bane Battle Bear Blade Blood Blossom Blue Boom Brand Breaker Breath Breeze Bright Bringer Caller Caster Catcher Chanter Cloud Crafter Crow Daisy Dark Dawn Day Death Dragon Dream Dreamer Dune Dusk Dust Earth Ember Emerald Enchanter Eyes Fairy Finder Fire Flame Flower Foe Forge Friend

A Universal Truth

Anytime you hear yourself saying, "I don't have a choice," you can be damned sure that, yeah, you do have a choice. It may be between two options with equally, potentially, disastrous results. It may be vague and unclear as to which one is wrong and whether either of them isn't wrong, and if so, which one is less wrong? It may be hard as hell to choose which option to take but you ALWAYS have a choice. And whichever one you choose, the results of it will be on your shoulders. You don't get out of the consequences, whether bad or good, just because the decision you made was on such a fine line you aren't sure which side you were on in the end. There's no such thing as "no choice."

Far Off Sort of Homesick

I'm homesick for faraway places For cities and skylines to get lost in For endless bridges full of lights And darkness held back by the life carrying on into the night I'm longing for the chatter and bustle For the smells and sounds of hustle And hurried feet and trampled toes I miss the endless interests The countryside and wilderness The dreams and love of loneliness A hopeful sort of cloudiness That keeps you wanting to return To explore, wander and learn Of pasts and histories I'm homesick for a far of place Somewhere my heart was left I needn't bring it back with me Only, Leave a Promise Of a longing loneliness In a populated wildness A city full of lights And love And life

The End/Goodbye

The Beginning
When they found me, I was unconscious, lying next to my mother. Her skin was very pale against the red carpet. You mightn't have noticed the oddity of a red carpet where we lay on account of the urge to try and save our lives, but it hadn't been very long, and it was still wet. Then the stark contrast between the carpet everywhere else and directly underneath us would be very apparent. You might've gasped. Your eyes might've traveled slowly up from the red carpet, all the way to the back of my mother's head. And then you might've screamed.
This is not a ghost story. It is not a tragedy. This is just my story, and until I died, it was a happy one. Everybody dies eventually, but the lives they lived are still full of stories, and most of them are never told. I love to tell stories, so here is mine. Just, please remember, although death is an end, it not The End.
The End This was my story. I still think it was pretty happy. I lived and loved well…

I want to stop.


I don't know if anyone's out there, but, hello! I've never been much for keeping a blog, like really blogging, or journaling or whatnot. Promised I made to myself are very easily broken. Promises I make to people are less easily broken, but still broken all the time. Strictly speaking, this is my writing blog, so it's supposed to be filled with stuff related to "my writing side," but since I deleted my other stagnant blogs that I never posted on, this could be a journalesque type blog too.

It won't happen, at least, not in any regular sort of way. Writing seems to be escaping me, or really, academic writing has. For several months I managed to suppress my creative instincts and didn't write fiction all that time. My poetry definitely got worse too. But now, now that I'm failing Comp, now my writing side has come back in, well, part force, but still, it's back and I don't know how to push it away again. I'm craving it so badly. My …

No More

I walk out into the waves I look out upon the sea The current pulling on my legs The current pulling on my feet No more! I say, no more! I cannot live this way With one voice calling me out to sea And one voice calling me away
I walk back onto the sand I turn and look upon the sea The wind is pulling on my hair The wind is pulling on my knees No more! I say, no more! It's hard enough to be brave With once voice trying to drown me And one voice that wants to save
Ocean, shore, I shout, no more! I won't be pulled along anymore Currents, winds, hopes and dreams I refuse to ever bend my knee I walk into the waves The current has no power The voice speaks through the rain I laugh, I will never cower

Title Song

This is the title song
For every time you want to sing along
I sat in your car just singing
As we drove out to Wisconsin
The radio was making music
And I was making memories
Of people sleeping in the backseat

We sang of rooftops and windows
Of places where nobody goes
Who we are, no one else ever know
We're in the wind, we go where it blows

This is the title song for
Every time you felt something more
Every love, every hurt, every ordinary
Every day, all the same, no one knows the difference
The music carries us all away
We're crazy and get swept away
Never knowing where we are going

We sang of questions and answers
Of secrets and cures for cancer
Who we are is just a gesture
We're only what we can muster

This is the title song
For something that just has begun
What it is no one can say
But you can take a guess anyway
We danced under a great blue sky
And never needed a reason why
We were only what we wanted to be
The song has set us free

We sang of rooftops and windows
Of …

what I'm doing

I don't know what I'm doing.
I'm a college student. I get average grades. I take an antidepressant because I get depressed. I have rollercoaster emotions and attachment issues. I like to watch videos on Youtube and have conversations with characters.
But that's all who I am.
I don't know what I'm doing.
I guess I know that I'm distancing myself from the people I wish could be closer to me. I go to bed late and feel tired all day. I take walks by myself and  write poetry and draw, but these things are not what I'm doing. They're just who I am.
What am I doing?
I'm not an illiterate, confused buffoon. But I don't know what I'm doing.

Made of Sand

We are the wild, we are the untamed We move in circles, we collect names
We are the broken, we are the burning We are the empty, we are still learning
To put one foot in front of the other To look farther than the tip of our noses To aim higher than where our eyes meet
Everybody out there is competition In breaking tradition We have to run if we want to get first
We are the simple, we are the curious We are the seeking, but not serious
We are the restless, we feel so alone We want to be people, but not on our own
Taking one step, then take another We still mistrust our brothers In every handshake there is a war
So everybody starts smoking But then everybody starts choking Everybody is fallen on the floor
We are still growing, we are naïve We are uncharted, just learned to breathe
We are the soldiers, we are so afraid We don't know what lies beyond the grave
And all the people huddle in fear And try to find something worth living for They find it anywhere, they find it in anything
We find the truth in the se…


A fingertip. Just that, no more. An inch expanse from knee to knee. A spark, a warmth, a pulse of strawberry blood. A vision. Oceans and emptiness, skies of endless, enduring blue. Shoulders and thighs. Hands entwined. Fingertips, fearless.

Telling a Story

It's always an adventure, telling a story. You have the picture of it in your mind, you can see the characters just as they are, not just their looks or actions, but the distinct traits and emotions that fuel their actions. You can see the house where they live, whether it be rugged or ramshackle or ostentatious. You see the characters and how they live. Russell lives on one side of the park and Nancy on the other, and perhaps Nancy has lace curtains, so when Russell stands out below her window, he can see her moving before she peeks out and sees him. And he sees something of her, and the audience sees something through his eyes, something the writer already knows, because they would be intimately acquainted with those characters.
    People don't really write of what they don't know, or that's not how they start off. You have to find something of value, something that the audience will find valuable, and you have to be familiar with it. There has to be a genuine aspec…


Everything is hurried and my hands are made of steel
Everyone is empty and cannot heal Everything is moving at the speed of sound
Everyone is plunging straight through the ground All the cars are useless, all the airplanes walk
All the pigeons scramble before they are crushed
All the people worry and laugh and sigh
All the people know is how to die Everything is dying and my heart is made of stone
Everyone is trying to get their feet back home
No one knows the way, no one knows the cure
Everything is dirty, unkempt, and impure