Monthly Archives: October 2011

Happy Halloween!


When I had pepperoni for breakfast, that was a sign that today would be an interesting day.

Let’s see… Trick or treating with my best friend, wearing too much eye liner, eating pizza, cerebrating my grandmere’s birthday, and watching YouTube with my neighbor/adopted brother.

Tomorrow starts NaNoWrimo or, as it’s more popularly known, the death of my social life. Traditionally, my blogging suffers as a result. But this year, I think I have a solution.

What if I post my 1,666 daily words on here each day? It would keep me blogging, keep my focused on NaNoWriMo, and just be awesome.

Would this be annoying? Opinions required…please. 🙂

More Poetry


So, for those of you who don’t know, I often think in poetry. (I can also have entire conversations in iambic pentameter so…) Basically, what this translates to is a notebook full of poems that may or may not be relevant to anyone, including myself. But through the magic of the internet, I now have a place to share my work and victims…er readers to enjoy it. Bwahahahahaha. So without further ado, a poem:

I love the way you smirk when I say “Perhaps”

It’s a lapse in my reason, treason to my heart

Starting a revolution, full of convolutions, pollution

Of my freedom, ending a reign of sending suitors flying

Replying, “I’m better off alone.”


I love the way you expertly play at my heart-strings

Ringing them like a bell. I’m no hard sell, I’m gone

Belonging to you wholly, lulling my mind

Into kind thoughts of mankind, a blindness I despise

And realizing the double face I’ve placed over

The common sense I held dear.


You’re a sore boring into the core of me.

Is it a tragedy, this strange malady claiming me?

No turning back. I lack rearview mirrors. And tears

Pour from my eyes, a surprise when you know

The passionate joy within.



Smile. Please do.

It’s a lovely little interlude

From what I have to say


Kiss- the granting of a wish

A lovely moment I will miss

As I slip away.


Dear, you know

How very apropos

Our story is.


Love. It isn’t so.

And we both know

I can’t stay.



Don’t you dare cry.

It’s better this way.


Please believe

The greatness you can achieve

A legacy born to pain



School and Rules of the Heart



As my college classes are going well, I have no excuse for avoiding blogging. Guilt-free blogging! Yay!

So, I’m no expert when it comes to romance. Big shocker, I know. However, even though I have little to no experience myself, my friends seem to find me a good source of advice. Why is that?

I wonder about romantic relationships. I truly do. It seems like most of the time, it’s a beautiful game of playing catch with hearts. Everyone has fun until one heart gets dropped, or a person throws their heart carelessly, or the other person is just not able to catch the heart in time. More often than not, someone gets hurt.

Maybe I’m pessimistic. Maybe I’m just being realistic. However, I have a hard time believing I can find true love. Is there such a thing? Do “soul-mates” exist? My parents would say so. They believe that they were truly made for each other. But it took so much heartache for them to find each other.

Is that what it’s all about? Is pain the key to love? Or, to put it another way, do you have to suffer for love to be real? At least theoretically, that makes sense. Love is sacrifice. It’s about viewing another person as more important. So, it would make sense that it would hurt once in a while.

On a personal level, I don’t really want to put my hurt out there. It will more than likely get battered and bruised.  At the same time, I want love. I want that passion.  I want to fins someone who is “worth it”.

Or maybe I’m just crazy! 😛

My life by Regina Spektor

Photo of Regina Spektor in concert, Latitude F...

Image via Wikipedia

This is a fun questionnaire. You can only use one artist. Their song titles provide the answers to the questions. Don’t repeat any titles!

My Artist: Regina Spektor

Are you male or female?:

Describe yourself:
Genius Next Door

How do you feel about yourself?:

Describe where you currently live:
Another Town

If you could go anywhere, where would you go?:
No Surprises

Your favorite form of transportation:
Back of a Truck

Your best friend is:
Hero Of the Story

Your favorite color is:
2.99 Cent Blues

Favorite time of day?:

That Time

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called?:
Human of the Year

What is life to you?:
Love Affair

What is the best advice you’ve given?:
One More Time With Feeling

If you could change your name, what would it be?:

Thought for the day:
Time is All Around

How would you like to die?:
Laughing With

Your motto:

Ne Me Quitte Pas

Intrinsic vs. Instrumental Value



Between college, high school, soccer, and other adventures, I’ve been busy. I regret nothing! Actually, I do regret not blogging, but as it is impossible to change the past (w/o help from the Doctor), I’ve decided that whining about the neglection of my blogging duties is useless as well as annoying.

As part of an assignment for my incredible English class, we had to think of something we valued intrinsically that had little instrumental value. For those of you who don’t know what that means, “Something is said to have intrinsic value if it is good “in and of itself,” i.e., not merely as a means for acquiring something else…Something is said to have instrumental value if it is good because it provides the means for acquiring something else of value.”(

I chose dreams.

I value dreams intrinsically. Of course, some dreams can be instrumental in helping me realize my own wants and fears. However, I think that dreaming about pandas or saving Scotland is important, even if those dreams have no practical use.

An exciting thing about my dreams is that, although they are influenced by things I do, I have no real control over the type of dream I will have. In other words, I’m the creator but I have no idea what I’m creating. One night I may dream of zombies and the next about a garden party complete with tea and cakes.

If I were to stop dreaming, would it affect my life?  Well, in many ways, it would not. I would still go to school. I would still have chores. Heck, I’d still have my imagination. Yet I do think I would feel the loss. I’d miss falling asleep knowing I could dream of anything. I’d miss the craziness of my dreams, including the plot holes I wouldn’t tolerate from a book or movie. And I’d miss the freedom. I create dreams without consciously knowing what I’m doing. That means there’s no restraint on how scary or weird or impossible a dream can be. It’s creativity without a filter and I certainly think that’s valuable.