Perspective

There's nothing like hearing other people's problems to put your own in their place. In a way, I'm glad that my friend told me about his home issues today, because it made me realize that while my current problem isn't an itty bitty one, it could certainly be worse, and that helps be deal with it. But that's really the only positive part about it, and it's not very positive for him.

Three Words

MAD COW DISEASE!

That was mainly for the bluebird, in case anyone thought they should have understood and didn't.

Face-Suckers

"What a boring date!" Rori exclaimed for the umpteenth time.

The Writers' Block meeting was attended by the regular three (Dax, Yoda, Ayliel/Me), plus the usual latecomer (Puff), and an unexpected visit from the long-absent president (Rori). The aspiring authors sat in a clump under the pavilion at a neighborhood park, occasionally casting glances up the hill to a pair of teenagers that Ayliel would have found fitting subjects for her satirical playwriting assignment in creative writing: The Attack of the Tonsil-touching, Lip-smacking Face-suckers. It was well known in the club that both OHS and PGHS were having Homecoming that day; the majority of the absent members were at PG's event. What was more apparent was that the couple went to one school or the other--the girl was wearing a violently pink formal.

"Yeah," Yoda agreed. "I mean, they didn't even bring a lunch or something to make it look legit. They just sit there making out."

Puff laughed. "Who can tell which head belongs to which person? I can't."

"I can't separate the arms either," Dax said.

For anyone who was simply listening to the conversation, nothing made any sense. In between discussing writing ventures, there was the dream-analysis portion of the meeting, the sketch-book investigation and discussion of comics portion, and the usual "why haven't you been updating, you good-for-nothing slacker?" interrogations. And the entire presentation was sprinkled with frequent examination of the couple on the hill. For a gathering of socially inept, human-interaction-entertained writers, the two proved to be highly intriguing. The subjects discussed varied from a passing old man being the girl's father to sneaking up behind the pair to blow Ayliel's lifeguarding whistle before rating the aesthetic composition of the couple's positon from different angles, thus instigating a debate on which view was superior.

But honestly, if one was planning on sitting around for nearly THREE HOURS making out, wouldn't one want to do it in a secluded area (i.e. not a public park) and maybe not in the middle of the day? And one definitely doesn't want to be within visual scrutiny of the nearest set of wannabe novelists. They had the gall to give us funny looks when they left the park.

Settlement

Since that last post is soooo depressing, I decided that I can't let it sit around as my current post for any longer. I'm tired, but I'm not depressed. So instead I'll stick a rant on top! Huzzah for a change!

I have written so much crap! I'm not even kidding. Because of the Sterling Scholar stuff, I've been going through every line of prose that I've saved since the Great Explosion of the Compuker of Death. Some of it actually extends to before the GECD, but those are few. Anyway, the point is that so much of it is so sickeninly crappy. And not all the crappy stuff is old. Example: I just wrote a reaction paper to stuff we did in government and citizenship. Gag me! It's terrible, as far as literary merit goes. But I won't fix it either (by my logic, Rhees can't talk, so he really can't judge if my writing struggles in one essay). There are so many times when I've settled for less than I was capable of. Even with the application essay I wrote recently! The idea was excellent, especially for a late-night idea, but I didn't bother to clean it up. All it really took was one deleted sentence, a few added words, one taken out here and there, and it was ten times better. But I settled. I'm sick of settling! No more settling.

(Says the Cynic in Me: Yeah, that resolution will last until the next deadline. Explications are due soon, aren't they?)
(Says the Realist: Um, Cynic is right. You're gonna be settling on some of the less important scenes. I betcha that if we looked at it, we could even figure out which ones you'll settle on.)
(Says the Optimist: Shushupyourmouths! See if I care! Oh wait, I'm the optimist. Happy day, all!)

Tearstains

Why these silver drops
On a blushing field?
Why the wracking sobs
That give my weakness strength?
That last time this happened
The last time it was this bad
There was a fair reason

But this time, this time is different
Why the tears for something so simple?
Why do I fall apart at one day, one incident?
Is it the responsibility?
The desire for the past?
The fact that there's no way out?
That I have no control?
Or is it simply the final straw?

It couldn't be the last
Because there's still nothing
I'm going to do
There's nothing I can do
Without making it worse
And a further division
Is as far from my goal
As anything can get.

Home?

My home is ruined. I'm not kidding. In one particular place for which I feel a great deal of affection, at least half the import of the place has been stripped away, replaced with unfinished new wood. Every mark that has so engaged my mind for countless years has been not only attacked, but completely removed from my sight. Every carving that has exemplified my time spent there has been totally eradicated from the vicinity. The unintelligible markings on the eastern wall that had given rise to so much fond speculation have vanished.

Not only this, but the very entrance of my abode has been remade to look like that of other homes, and not like mine at all. The characteristics that so defined it in my mind are blotched out by new additions, and the smell is not that of my dwelling. It is the scent of newness, so unlike the aroma that has welcomed me upon my return every day prior to this. The sheer vastness of the entry has robbed the passage of its former closeness, its former protection. Bare and open, it is mine no longer.

In summary, the new additions to the Rec. Center are nice, and I'm sure a lot of people will enjoy the steam sauna (I will not be among them), but I can't help but feel that I've lost a part of my past with the remodling. Especially with the stripping of the sauna walls.