What Became Known as the Early Years

I like Ingrid Michaelson's voice.
It swallows mine whole when I sing along.
Like when I was a kid.

Today I am going to my friend's birthday party. Slash I don't have a present for her. Cause I'm POOR. And unthoughtful. If that's really even an adjective.

I try to sing it without her. But I can't. It's not the same. I can do Nora Jones....and Wicked...and even Bill Withers if I'm trying hard enough. But this is okay. It gives me an excuse to play it again. I lose myself here sometimes.
She is one of those people that I wish I knew before they were on vh1.

That is all for today.

Guilt for being presentless,
Emily

Thursay is my lazy day.
Oh my. I think I could just pass out right now.

So...funny things that I find out about my friends...haha. Remind me to tell you about that. Please. it's such a funny story.

Anyways, I don't much know what to blog about. Part of me fears that I'm becoming one of those surface people....who wear polos and take pictures soley for Facebook. People who main concern is who they're hanging out with this weekend and what they'll be wearing. People who complain about math tests. I just described myself minus the polos thing and the "what they'll be wearing". Oh man...I think I might be happy.

It's my new song.
I'm so angry at myself for not dating. So angry.
Sad.
Scared.
Crushed.

Word to the Gma
I'm a big up trippin

lame. lame. lame.
Selfish.
lame.
Angry. Sad. Scared.
Crushed.

Testimony testimony testimony testimony
I'll never be the same
Holy holy worthy worthy something something something something
That rhymes with Jesus name

This is the song of the year.

I'm going to be sick. Physically sick.
For real throwing up.

Death,
Emily

Why is it so hard to listen?
Not to be cliche'. I've just gotten to the point where I think it'd just be easier to call this whole thing quits and ask him myself, but luckily I don't get to make that decision.

I feel so physically limited here. You would think that in my dress rehearsal I would be bold and imaginative. I would love intensely and freely. And never limit myself.
Either by dating or by eating.
I would be honest and passionate. And true to myself.
Whatever that means.
I might tell you I think you're neat.
Or you're the only sane (by my standards) person left in my life.
I miss you.
It bothers me when you play with her hair during science.
I might ask you to be my valentine. Or tell that stupid boy to ask you to be his valentine.

I could do a thousand things if I just embraced the Courage to let go of myself. To let Freedom dictate my actions. And Love be my center.

I love love you.
Emily

Wicked the Musical = death.
only good...what?

I think Paula Dean just made the most delicious looking cheddar and broccoli soup I've ever seen in 5 MINUTES.

Paula rules.

I have biceps for the first time ever. Seriously, in my life. I kind of can't believe it. I mean...they're not amazing, but they're pretty cool, I think. mmm. So hungry. I've got to feed these things. I didn't know you can build muscles this fast. (month! ballin) It's kind of creepin me out. Must build larger arms.

okay. peacing out.
Grandparents here.

Emily

You of all people know that means more than it means. : )

I am relaxing. Or something. Goofing off is more like it. I didn't finish my English homework last night. I mean...it's still due tomorrow so? haha. I don't care.
Listening to Wonderful (wicked). I still haven't finished that darn book. Goodness knows the wicked's lives are lonely.

Ah well. Unlimited. That's what they tell me. I can see how you'd fall in love with Elphaba.
I said, Wonderful? Well, if you insist.

Short today.
Emily

Watching Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone at 11 o'clock on a Monday morning.
Hoohah for District 6.
Question mark...anyways.

I'm rather warm. And alone, but in a good way I guess. After all, there can't be a problem with getting a head start on the years of turmoil (relationship wise) that my future undoubtedly holds. I am an internet leech, and will be till I learn how to run and withstand the cold.

Running to catch up again. Jumpin higher and flyin more often than not.

I'm on the verge of sinking down into this couch and coasting all day. The fear of what Craig Sanders thinks of me holds me up. I waste potential, folks.

Oh my...my. My best friend is getting braces on as I type. My brother is in class. My mother is at work. My father is driving. My dogs are napping.

I want to listen to music and read Harry Potter and find that skirt that Nicole Kidman wore in Bewitched when she went on the date with Will Ferrel when he was like crazy or under her spell or whatever. I could dance but I have no one to dance with. Take my dogs for a walk, but it's cold outside and they'd rather sleep. Blog..so here I am.

Got a dirty shirt,
Dirty jeans,
But I keep my plaid line jacket clean,
Emily

I waited too late to put on loud music so now my mother is home and I have to share the living room with her.

Today was a half day.

I am freaked out because I don't feel anything when I write anymore. Like my heart doesn't expand and contract with the words. It makes me want to cry. I haven't told you this. Cause I'm intimidated. And you're not being on is making it worse.

I have been closely studying Caroline and Heather's friendship. It bewilders me. I own the personal belief that no one should be made a sidekick. Either by nature or by choice, it is wrong. Sometimes I don't understand that good people just happen to win at things. I've often found life more complex than this, and--when faced with evidence to the contrary--I am horribly confused.

Oh
well that's
allfornow.

It well may be that we will never meet again in this lifetime, so let me say before we part: so much of me is made of what I learned from you. You'll be with me like a handprint on my heart and now whatever way our stories end I know you have re-written mine by being my friend...

Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood,
Emily

This one I am not so sure of.

untitled 7

The girl mouths the words to the song
In your mind, could you ever be really close to me?
They taste like salt

She watches the trees meet the sky and clouds
Yellow, green, forest, white
And she thinks herself rather sad
And finds herself rather alone

Just digging in the sand with her feet
Waiting for the cold to set in on her knuckles
Gives the old tire swing a rap and questions the wisdom
Of listening to a band named the Zombies

Martin

I am afraid that my little toe is disappearing
Off the face of the earth

I have
Pleaded with it to stay a while
On this foot of mine (Right foot)
For I have big plans for this foot, I tell it

High hopes, indeed.
Dreams of
Of ship building?
House painting?
Furniture making?
Language lessons?

Hold on, little toe

I will be an acrobat
And for that,
I will need you

I might make wine
I could not stomp grapes
With four toes

Today, I will be a scientist
And though I could go on in your absence
I will not want to, Little Toe

I will want to
Admire your relaxed state
In line with brother Toes
And,
My little phalange,
I will want to ask you to stay with me
And don't you ever leave

That might be my favorite.

okay. so, apps due in a matter of days. two days to be precise.
here we go:

untitled 4
through the winding stretch of highway I see only Your face
how the american flag just pops
in the grayish green of the northern hills

hypothetical old men standing at the edge of the road
scarred with calloses
smile at themselves
and I,
only a second in their lives

they run ahead
speckeled with livestock
tin roofs, rotting wood
A world sealed with rust

through the winding stretch of highway
I see only Your face


Thinking Too Much

I long to scrawl down an idea
That you could yearn to not grow weary of

Shouting
Go away
in my head I ask God
To shut up and make immobile
The rednecks at my side

For the sweet "my loves" of Mark Cox's Grain
Still pulse in my chest

And I am ashamed
To be able
To think uninterupted
For hours on end

I sit and fear and think
That I am forgetting what your voice sounds like

For what sadness
to forget how Mamie Morgan reads

untitled 6

Yesterday they showed me a cat skeleton
Hovering in the water
Like it had the decency not to float to the top

My heart threw up at the sight of it
And the boy sewed his staff through the empty ribcage
He pulled
The bones snapped effortlessly
Like old rubber bands

The boy now screams in a room down the hall
Because he indulges too heavily in inconvience
My hand fits itself around Casey's shoulder
I slide it to his stomach
My fingers trace his ribcage

And pull the shivering, soot-colored pup
Closer to me
So that he rests against my thigh

I pull him in
Thinking of how he will soon become that skeleton
And so will I



more later.

Every change in pitch
Once the beat swings
Mine hastens
Trips over itsself

The prick of each hair
Skin becomes eerily sensitive
The swell is infectious
Yet
My muscles tighten

Wrenched
To the edge of my seat
Stiff to the point of
Creaking joints
Creepy kid

Finally I can stand
Sway and
Hold myself up
Appear Human

Clap my palms raw
For the encore
Count on
Seeing you again and--hopefully--
Touching you

Yes, I know itsself is not a word. Seuss me? (sue me. I'm lame.)
okay. peacing out now. going to distract myself. ah..a word.

Emily

I have called you father in my sleep
I held out my hand
Whispering your name like a forgotten verse

I turn over
My open hand flung across The Word
My open heart lay wanting at the foot of the bed
It was the edge of my universe

I sleep on,
Burrows frowed
And you wander on towards the light
Hand in hand with another
Whispering soft tears upon my cheeks
Like a forgotten verse

I like how the last stanza throws off the whole tense of the thing. too much?

The first of 8 installments.
I repeat:
?


We will start with a short one:

Of Boyfriends

I lay a while
Watch my legs stretch longer
I have grown three inches

The first was long
Was wrong
I cannot distinguish

It unfurled the second
Of whom I do not speak

Now I've got them out of order
And Three laughs quietly at my misfortune
I shoot him

too question mark
?
(that was really in my notes.)

Emily

I am stuck...

I am sad...and quiet. It's just..I will email you.

Why should I start off my New Year like this? With a bad attitude. Feeling sorry for myself because I can't date anyone. It's not like it even matters, right?

Not right. I'm a mess.

Ramble, ramble.

Peace out.