Struck Out

The ball flung through the air, swinging and spinning vigorously like the roll of white collecting decadent cotton candy through the machine, in which children so thoroughly enjoy. But this wasn't the carnival. This was baseball. The eyes dazzled of my peers as they gazed at the leather wrapped object, piercing the sky, and to some, they even imagined it caught fire. I had to admit, it was a great shot. The kind of swing we all envied.


The cage had several holes, as it was weaved, though the young ones liked to stick their stubby, pink fingers through it. Maintaining its special qualities wasn’t too difficult. The booth wear the players sat smelled of dust covered water bottles and sunflower seeds. It was odoriferous and obvious to us all. 
Again, adding to the special qualities. As he slipped his batting gloves on and twisted his knuckles, the spring in his step was portrayed well, as he marched slenderly forward. The glint in his eye caught my attention; I figured much determination was present.  He tipped his cap downward, and continued having a staring contest with the sun. He whispered to it. Sounded like fighting words to me. The devilish smile never left his smug face. 


Switching batters now, he was up. He strode on, towards that beautiful diamond in which so many feet have trampled upon. And everyone leaned to the front of their seats in the stands due to their anticipation. Anxiety hung in the air as much as the sand did, the sun again glaring down at the players, set in position on the field. He lifted his bat as high as his spirits, and all eyes on the pitcher. 


Crack!  The ball flew again. It seemed everyone was hitting except me. In fact, I haven’t gotten a hit all year. My swings never registered, they never went through. It seemed like everyone was way better than me. Oh wait, that’s because everyone IS way better than me. Go figure. I was gaudy, and definitely with a stature below my age group. I was disfigured, and uncoordinated. Scrawny and a little dull. I preferred to think, rather than do. I’m not a “do” guy. I don’t really don’t recall why I joined the team. I don’t even like sports. Maybe I was feeling nostalgic, maybe I was missing something, or maybe I just wanted something to prove. Whatever it was, I didn’t have much time to think about it. While I was dozing off, and the other players, including my brother, were spitting their seeds, I didn’t actualize I was next in line to bat. 

They scooted me out to the home diamond and I looked at my feeble hands, gripping the bat handle with might. It seemed instantaneous, but The pitcher took a deep breath, and swung at me. I swear the ball glared at me, as it was on it's way to hit me, so I freaked. I leaped, and squealed, scrambling to my feet and was horrified to justify I was outside the chalk lines we called the batter's box. I stepped back in, nervous as hell. 


The rest of the night seemed to slip from me. It was the first strike, second pitch, and third time I slapped myself awake. This is surreal. I didn't have time to collect my thoughts before the second pitch was complete, and I found myself out of the box again, I kept jumping. By now, you know somebody would say something, certainly the coach would. He grabbed me by the air and whispered ferociously in my ear; explaining to me that if I did not make this hit, that I would have to run ten laps around the whole field. Not just the diamond, but the field.  


And the punishment seemed reasonable. Bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, last pitch of the game, and I was the batter. I mean, I was the WORST on the team. There was no sugar-coating it. I haven't hit all year, or even caught a ball. I hated my reason for joining: I missed it. How can you miss something you were so horrible at? It didn't make any sense to me. Third pitch, and I couldn't believe it. I was out of the box again. But I struggled so hard, why is this happening? What did I do to deserve this? I haven't a clue as to what. 


I blinked, and our team was exchanging "good game" pats on the back with theirs. And after that I took off running, around the field, that is.Ten laps. Ten reasons I shouldn't have started this. I lost the championship game. For all of us.

FedEx Truck-- Test Vlog

Test Vlog.

R.W. Martin Youth Outreach

http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.rwmartinyouthoutreach.org%2F&h=2AQFTLti1

Site! ^^

http://www.facebook.com/RWMartin.Youth.Outreach

Facebook Page ^^

"OUR MISSION is to find disadvantaged, at-risk and homeless youth and help them improve their lives by encouraging spiritual, emotional/mental, educational and physical well being through support of personal needs.
We offer a hand up to the youth of our community

Impact statement 
We are committed to caring and inspiring change by supporting our youth with the tools they need to be successful
All donations are given to the kids, which in turn, turn into successful members of our community so it’s a win/win situation."

Perception Scene

Look, and pay close attention. Where are you now? You're sitting in your desk in English class, with the chattering ringing in your ears and all you can think about is how calm outside looks. The leaves rustle together in a sense like small children would, and the ground was as pale as your face could ever be. Almost as if your face was envious of the ground. The chatter dies down, and you abruptly notify yourself of the fact that you're on the bus ride home. A normal human being would say to themselves, that it went by rather fast. But you.. You're different. You think to yourself: "That happened in a matter of seconds. Not minutes, hours, days, but seconds."


Because, you see, there is no past, or future. Life only consists of the present. Then, following thought occurs, you're in your bed, uncomfortably wriggling around, staring at the popcorn ceiling; hoping the little bits don't fall inside the corners of your eyes. 


Wake up, you're in English class again, only its four months later. But wait.. just a second ago, you were in bed. Yes, are you starting to see yet? Life goes by in seconds. Always in seconds. This thing we call our life's is made up of  belittled moments, in which we cannot cherish, because they slip away from our creased fingertips as fast as you can cry out your lover's first name. So what's the point?


You're at your 21st Birthday party at the next second, throwing up in the bathroom, knowing you won't recall much in the morning. And so the cycle continues. 


Additionally, there's something that decussates my every day mentation. How can I confide in the mirror to assure me that I look the way I believe that I do? I mean sure, I can witness my hair fall over my eyes, and I can feel my skin. But is that really present? Or am I just assuming so due to the mere fact that the mirror portrays it? Is it there because I believe in the mirrors assurance? Something I'll never know.

...

I bury my eyelids with my knuckles, and open them wide to find my wrinkled skin and bruises before me. I'm 68, and haven't a clue why my life ended so badly. I'm still short, I haven't a wife or grandchildren, and I still can't figure out how to drink my morning coffee, professionally. I still think about her. I still think about all the roads I would've blazed, with my tiny feet, one foot ascending the other in a child-like manner. I wear these old yellow overalls, in this incredibly small, grey-headed work of a home. I still tend to bite my finger, when I blush about the things the flowers tell me, when I'm gardening. Plant life grew all around me, because I was feeling rather lonely and to my astonishment, they decided to accompany me in small talk. I smiled because I knew, in the next second, I'd be dead.

Imogen Heap

Amazing. This is the lullaby I'm going to sing to my kids before they sleep.

Plant Life

Just felt like sharing something wondrous. :)

Words Are Words Are Words

If you need me, you can find me in the self help aisle in the bookstore. I'll be flipping through everything from depression, to relationships, mental disorders, and even titles such as "The Book About Dreams". Yeah, its a difficult world to sift through. But believe me, the simple things, like love, saltine crackers and spray on cheese, and story time by the campfire while your grandfather's beard glows red in the crisp,cold, night; make it all the more worthwhile. Its worth pummeling through the tumult and the strife.


Grab your gloves, because the snow wishes to give you a warm welcome, the sewers wish to bid you a due, for they themselves, begin to sink down. The gently flakes that pelt your face start to worry if your ears, and cheeks will grow red, but rest assured because the hot cocoa is awaiting inside ever so patiently. 


You know why you're intrigued? Because of my words. Words can hurt, words can heal, and even sometimes; Words don't matter. Words are words are words.

I would sit against the side of the building, pull out my headphones, and drown out the visual noise. I didn't want to think about what he called me, I didn't want to think about what they said. The bricks scratched my back, and I handed them a contract, saying I'm aloud to perch here. Its strange to me, so I pulled out my pen and started to write, almost as if the pen was having a race against the blue and red boundary lines. Why do we follow them, anyways? Its like we're programmed. Even if we walk into a fast food place, and there's not a person in side, we still tend to walk through the ropes to get to the front to order. But that's another story. We're talking about words.

They're powerful. It can make or break a relationship. They can also bring your world down, flushing it over your eyelids. It can make someone hide under their scooby doo covers in fear. It can cause sometime to change their whole life. They're a weapon, they're a guard. They're many things I wish I would've thought of, or could have been. It's just inconsistent me crying out for consistency. What words have been ringing in your ears today? If you hear me let me know. Remember, I'll be in the self help aisle. 

Dreams Don't Turn To Dust

ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE. <3

Humans Too

Find the gay person:


유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 


유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 


유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 


유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 유 


유 유 유 유 유 유


Can't do it? That's because they're humans too, and we're all the 


same. You should support gays, bisexuals, 


and lesbians.

Training Throttle

Finish your cereal, kids. Mom and I are off to the bank, and we wish it that you come along because then you'll see why we're taking our money back. 


Hello, this is truth, knocking on your door again. I know we're neighbors and all, so I was hoping I could borrow some attention. I really need it for this new recipe. I've been working on a dish by the name of "Hello, are you still there?". I think I'm gonna need some feedback on it, I'll send you some later.


The cracks on the sidewalk sometimes speak to me, and they tell me I'm going to have a rather horrendous life. I would laugh at them, but then I might trip. They really hate it when I talk badly about them, so it would be ridiculous of me to do so, so I think I'll just sew my dry lips together, I don't have much of an opinion anyways, considering I'm just the creak in the stairs, and the rust on the tire of your bike that won't stop spinning.


I forgot my arrogance, or rather my blissful ignorance, in my wallet, and its almost as if you expect me to be a terrible person, based merely on appearance. In that case, let me buy you a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of salad, so maybe somewhere in there, you can tell me where you derived this idea from. So tell me, do all humans think like this?


His small shoulders could no longer support the weight of such heavy tears. He missed him. "Dad, when are you gonna come pick us up?"
I wondered of this for such a long time. What is he doing? Where is he? Who is he with? Is he thinking of me? Does he know who I am, or cares? These questions, I now dutifully know the answers to.


I've wronged you, and I don't think you can ever forgive me, I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. I 
miss all our little games, analogies, and metaphorical concepts you and I could only dream of, like little kids 
telling ghost stories under the blankets in a tree-house too high for the worms to reach. I hope we can still be 
friends, and I thoroughly enjoy your advice. And just remember, that I changed so much for you. I did this 
because I adore you, and admire you. You're a great friend and I'm glad to have met you. The sneakers say 
hello, so lets untie these knots, slip out, and walk again.

To The Sky

Wonderful song. Spread your wings guys! More posts coming soon! As well as entries! Enjoy! :)

Cheer Up :)

Cheer up guys! Here's a song for you! You are ALL special!

Go Figure- A Look Into Child Behavior

When I was little, everyone was basically the same, in most ways, in the sense that most things kids did, or thought, could be related to. For instance, everyone wolfed down their lunch as quick as possible, just to get to recess, because if you stayed at lunch, or were in class studying pointless matters, you were considered a "loser".


I remember when mean, or stupid, was the most offensive thing you could call someone to insult them. But nowadays, things have become more cruel, real, and vulgarization was the goal in which we kicked our stereotypical soccer balls into. Always that pentagon shape, you were terrified to be different. Terrified to be the loser.


I remember when you always said your manners, and now, you don't know where they've disappeared off to. Your parents might say you left them at home. Now you are all grown and some of us still don't know where home is. We've become jaded.


I recall the day, in every one's lives, at some point in their life when they dared to be different. One of two things happened:


1. Everyone respected and accepted your decision to become something you probably aren't.


2. You were shunned out of a social society known as the group of people you may consider important.


Let us face facts here, number one is a mere daydream blown into your ear by the blustery breeze. Things have changed, some things have remained bitter, the same, rather. I recall, when little boys picked on girls because they liked them. In present day damn near everywhere, males are cruel to females intentionally for the sake of all that is uninteresting and distasteful.

I'm dreadfully sorry, it seems I'm trailing a bit off a tad. So, back to a subject in which I planned on speaking of. Things we probably all did as a child. I'm sure you all crawled up the stairs on all fours. I'm sure, at one point in your life, you were extremely picky about something your guardian made, and refused to eat it. Or you like some food that you didn't when you were a child, or vice versa. 


We all constantly check the fridge every five minutes just in case new food has magically arrived. Remember when we used to cut in line, when in truth, we're all headed to the same place at relatively the same speed?


 I recall the time when we had to make the choice between throwing a punch with your puny fist, or walking away. Now, several outcomes are possible, but it depends on the relationship between the two children in this confrontation or altercation. You could end up in a fight, two sided or not. You could end up with the result of walking away and not being touched a single bit. Or, you could walk away and go home, later getting jumped by the neighborhood brats who steal your lunch money. I know, how cliche. Nevertheless, this may or may not support the development of your future personality, or it may change the way you treat others.


Speaking of getting into a squabble as a child, here leads to another topic: behavioral problems.

All children have behavioral issues in the beginning, first and foremost because they just don't know any better. It's simple civics, they don't understand the fine line between what is right, and what is not O.K. to do or think, etc.But there is something to notice: Some children stop doing it earlier than others. Is it because they've realized that they can't have the attention all the time? The world doesn't revolve around them and their needs, perchance? 


Or is it because they've simply given up on working towards their goal. They've failed to understand why they aren't getting the attention, so they may assume they're being neglected; socially abused. So then they might begin to act out, disobey orders from parents and teachers because they simply can. Because they crave the attention they aren't getting at home, they may tend to get into some trouble at school. Whether it may be from teasing other kids, to talking back to the teacher in rude manners. 


Or it may be that they find themselves not getting any friends at school, or they are failing to learn some of the material presented to them in class, so they start to act out at home. They need attention, and sometimes, it may be nearly impossible to get it. For instance, like I stated above, they aren't doing so well in the social and educational environment at school, and their guardians spend most of their day at work, contriving ways to collect money so the family can hold onto the single red string hanging from the ceiling. So, be sure to remember, a child needs attention, or they may not turn out the way you hoped. Knock out the horrendous habits early, or things could accumulate into a big mess of incompetence and social agony.  

Social agony, is indeed painful. This may be related to being socially awkward. As a small child or an infant, if he/she isn't introduced to a lot of adults or other children, they may be uncomfortable or unfamiliar about social concepts, and the aspects of making friends or working well in a social environment may be somewhat arduous to grasp. So the most simple way to fix this is to have them always be around people, so they become comfortable around other kids when it is time to put them in a schooling environment. 

Based on my personal experience, I lived on a farm as a child, and wasn't introduced to many other than my family. So when it was time for me to go to pre-school, I cried every single time I was dropped off. I know, bittersweet and pathetic. So if it were up to me, I wouldn't put my kids through that kind of torturous notion. Not that I'm making an impression that you should raise your kids this way, it is merely my own opinion. 

There is also another probably that arises in most children, and that is the habit, of being bossy.

Being bossy: Its something, more or less, that happens to a humble amount of kids. This usually occurs when children are around their siblings, and they want them to do something when they're too lazy to do it themselves. Or when the children are playing, and the role assumption in the game becomes a conception of dominance and accusation. This could also lead to confrontation. Children tend to strongly dislike others that are bossy, or tell them who to be or what to do. So fix this problem by teaching them manners, and sharing. But let us think about this: children dislike to share. Hell, the average ADULT dislikes sharing. I know what you're thinking: If sharing is caring, then I don't care. Well, if we all learned to stop being so greedy, and share our toys, so to speak, the world would be a much more resourceful place. By the time we grew to be adults, maybe we would've shared the resources we aren't today. Maybe there would be no war. Because we would be working together as a unit. An Earth. But that's a different, more politically acclaimed topic. 

I hope you enjoyed this, comment if you may. Or if you wish to discuss more topics related to children and their behavior. 

You Always Called Me Kid

Some days I wonder if you even know what love is. Some days I wonder if  you could stand peering at a reflection. Chapter 1, the first step, a prologue, a beginning, a start. That's where we'll blast off, that's where we'll kick away from the ground. At least, that's where I wish we were. We once were. It was perfect, even if it wasn't love, it was definitely something special. It was an experiment, but I wouldn't necessarily say you were a toy. You were a grand friend, no wait.. you're more than that. You always were. And there's a gut feeling letting me know that you aren't reading this. You probably haven't read anything of mine.


Like Relient K says, if I tear open my mouth, it'll just be to bite my tongue. I'm still tiptoeing around mines for you. I don't have any clue why I still feel the need to impress you. I want you to talk to me, I'd be happy if you just stared at me for a second in which I'm frozen. You shouldn't shuffle so nervously, for it should be me who should be cowering in his boots. You've always done that to me, made me nervous. I wasn't sure if it was a bad thing or not. There never was a time when I couldn't remember your face, you were always like that to me. For as distant as I can recall, you've always looked relatively the same.


Do you realize that I can't even listen to the Christmas Song without crying anymore? In fact, I cried last night, because of YOU. Every time I open my mouth around you, the words come out so... plain stupid. For lack of a better word. It seems like I CAN'T make you smile anymore. Just today, you called me "dude". You never called me dude. You always called me kid. Or freshman. Something. I wrote the words down for you, plain to see, and you shrugged it.


I remember, the slush lay gently upon the ground, and the white vicinity engulfed us, a snowball fight broke out. I remember throwing it across the street and it hit you in the face. You loosely recall. It wasn't so long ago. I remember bare feet, jumping over tables, old houses, rather large sweaters, the rain, cliche trips to the market. You were there. And for a time, you were the only one there. Do you remember that? If you're reading this, I hope you know its about you.


I always unsure of us. Sometimes I made excuses, and I've done a lot of things, and said much that I regret. It reminds me of warm ups in the cold, silent bus rides home, and late night walks by the park. What happened? Was it me? Of course it was me, but there's nothing I can change now. I honestly screwed us up. I'm not asking for forgiveness, I just want you to know I'm sorry.


I still think about the days where I needed to come over and take a break, and we'd lie there as you gossip of those you know. I'd listen, nod, and comment on the things I found interesting. You'd make me noodles, and we would listen to the music that was blaring on the T.V.


You were an escape, and more importantly, you were a real help. You smile complimented mine, because after I met you, you changed one of many facts about me: I now like my smile. You're a dreamer, you're creative I've always seen these colors you're portraying for everyone to see. You make it obvious. You're likable. And I'm grown now, I make my own decisions, and I don't think everything is about me anymore. I'm no longer selfish, and I wish I was still Kid. You always called me Kid.

Lunar Lullabies

Whisk me away, take me to that magical place you always speak of. I hope that doesn't sound like an order, I'm just so ecstatic. Its enchanting to me, how the seasons change the colors of the leaves. The angels walk around, but they don't make a peep. Its intriguing to me, how these lunar lullabies lull me to sleep. I doze off gently, while the breeze mildly rustles the outworn leaves. While the melody trails on, dragging its feet in my empty head, well, its empty now.. 


I felt the fur, there was an embrace to this, the cold wind sent forth shivers to my spine, which had the strength of wet cardboard when it came to such brave adventures and stormy retreats. I left it there, I left the body lying because I couldn't receive any more chances with this. I can't take it. This is too much, yet not enough. Give me the peanut butter-jelly sandwich on the counter-tops too tall for my wrinkled hands to reach. I'm only five in your world. That's what I've always been. Let me go. Don't force it, I'll do what I please in this dog-eat-dog world. But that's what its always been. A dog-eat-dog world.


You baby us this whole way, like the pelican carrying me in the silk blanket, I'm just a delivery, not a mission of slight importance to you. And yet, when you send us out into such a harsh environment, its as if I know of nothing, I've lost the little control I had. But just for right now, can we forget? Sing me to slumber. Sing me the lunar lullabies.

Relient k Music

Relient k- Candlelight

This song means a lot.

Let Me Stress For You

My hands are tired. I'm stressed for you. Drag me along, hold my stuffed hands and take me in the car, while I sit by your seat with my button eyes, and hair made of red yarn. Pale faces, familiar places, why is the sky so green today? Do you understand? Snap, crackle, sizzle, pop, ring, buzz, shimmer. These are the sounds I hear when you whisper to me your love, the soft sound of you chords vibrating on my chest. The crisp air cleans the worry from my cheeks. 


Snooze, the alarm clock rings, the sounds of the men blaring on the radio, they speak of ridged politics and harsh concepts, all while adding a comical tone to it all. I'm staring at you, hoping, no.. praying to something that you'll wink at me, but maybe this time, a silent one. Though the click is rather adorable. I live for it.


What's this, you say? Hm.. Oh? No, its just something I decided to make for you. What else what I spend my time doing besides thinking of you and making sure everything I do is for you. I miss you. The dandelions brisk you face, and then you gave that smile. The one many have treasured and only I can caress. I want to rock you to sleep, while we whisper quietly to the moon, "Goodnight."


Darling, rest your weary eyes, put those thoughts to rest, and let me stress for you. I'll contrive a way to pick apart the atoms, I'll figure out this mystery you put out here for me. You say you can't do it, but maybe that's my mission, after all. My one goal. I've noticed it, you quiver, you speak softly, rather a mumble. You say you can't elaborate, you tell me you can't explain, when I know in your heart you have already found the right words, it isn't too hard. If you can write these words, if you can clearly portray such an anchor, pull it up, and set it on the dock so I can take a look.

Pull apart the shades of green, rip through the grass, and see that the soil isn't as fertile as you wished, but that doesn't mean we can't plant a wonderful tree. Don't sound so disappointed, dear. The sun sets a little later tonight, so let's enjoy the vibrant glow as much as we can. Let me stress for you.

It Tears Me Apart

What happened? You know? Its been all these years, and still you refuse to be wrong. You've got to listen to me, you can't win all the time. And the truth is, you don't. You rarely do. I only have to agree with you because of these strings attached to my bruised elbows, joints, and whatnot. Its terrifying. You need your space, fine. Just don't yell at me. All I want to do is help. All I DO is help. Just remember that. You don't understand what's important to me. You never do. You would rather sleep away the day and responsibilities, than keep your promises to provide me with what I need. That's right, so forgive me for standing up for what I believe in.  

Do Yourself A Favor

Begin now.
Were those the first, or last words? The sweat from my brow clearly portrays the effort, the tenacity. I look around. 
Crack.
The weary leaves succumb to the weight's extremity, they meet their match. YOUR match. Hm? Your feet? Is that where it begins? Or is this another false hope? Tongues tied, fingers fried. Are you listening? Step one: Obligation. Know your priorities. Understand? Step two: Olives. Make sure you love them, because frankly, I don't. Step three: Cover your mouth, and shut up. Nobody wants to hear your loud, obnoxious, opinion that has a hard time finding the fork in the road. You're poking around at the dead ends and stop signs with war written below. Do yourself a favor, and stare into the spoon you're chewing on. You see it? Look closer. Your insides are ugly. Change it. Well, what are you waiting for? 
Begin now.

You Can't Possibly Know

You can't possibly understand, just how it is to be me. What? I'm sorry, it seems as if you said that you know. You understand? NO. You're dead wrong. What's that you say? Walk around in my shoes? You wouldn't fit, so you can't see? Reality? No, you're living in the false. Its never the guys with the guns you should be afraid of, but the silent one in the corner, surveying his options, weighing out every single possible outcome, and look above the skyline. It isn't a coincidence. Nothing ever is. There's an aura about everything. I sense its making me weary. Fall asleep you say? I can't. STOP. You can't know what it's like. You aren't me, THEREFOR, you're wrong. These blue and red photographs are damned, the trail is grown muddy with bad blood. Stop stirring, you're frustrating me, yes? Leave my thoughts and I be. Please.

Cold

I was scared to hell. I'm sitting there, I haven't fallen asleep yet. I was horrified, I could hear nothing, but faint whispers. And then, it became clear to me, like the edge of a diamond. My heart was pounding through my chest, I could hear it. It was choking my every being. I gasped for air, is it a struggle now? My hair follicles had succumb and suffocated underneath my heavy thoughts, for I was rather tired. But wide awake.Shh.. Do you hear that? Listen close.. They're speaking, they're talking of you. They were talking about me.. crudely. I could tell it was wrong, and not only that, but inaccurate. Its horrendous. I gutted myself with my vocal chords, let's not make a peep, and tiptoe like the caterpillars do. They have it all wrong. I see how it is, you think I'm selfish. You think I'm rude, you think I spend my lonely nights stabbing spines and breaking bones. We're talking of how I feel. This is ridiculous. Its cruel. Its cold.

Smile, Kid!

She glared at me happily with amber eyes, full of excitement, and despair seemingly followed after. I wondered what was wrong, it bothered me, like an itch you have deep under your skin, beckoning the urge to scratch it. I'll ask her later. She's genuine, I know that much. She's dorky, I like that, but most might find it annoying. She seems to get along decent with everyone, and yet she still has that smile on her face. Not necessarily a fake smile, but a broken one, because that smile was at the utmost real, anything but fake.


I was staring off into nothing, I realized, as I looked up with my solemn face and she said..


"Smile, Kid!"


From then on I made a promise to myself, that at the least I will always try to make myself smile, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. Her hugs were sweet and her smile warm and welcoming, there's a lot wrong with this one. She needs help, I think I'll talk to her.


I tried, and inevitably, but not in a concieted way, I succeded. She opened up to a stranger, poured her heart out, but not without ripping the bloody stiches first. This was interesting.


Heh.


It seems she knows there's something different. This isn't normal. Or is it?


Not at all. The fact of the matter is, at that moment, when the truth poured from her mouth like a waterful, she knew then, that she was just like me.


Non-existent.


Smile, Kid.

Screenplay Update

The screenplay, and movie ideas have been postponed, as well as the music for quite a while. I've been very busy with other things, so check in frequently for new stuff, incuding such listed. Poetry, and more free-writing will also be posted soon, as well as journal entries. My second choir, school, and friends have taken a toll on my songwriting time, so that's a shame, but not a problem, it will get done. A new band with my friends possibly kicking off soon? Let's hope so.

READ THIS

Listen, I accidently removed "City Transit, Number Eighteen" from the blog. It was a shame, but now, there is only a draft posted. Sorry if you hadn't had a chance to read it yet, its kind of gone now. Sorry. ):

City Transit, Number Eighteen

It was a rather dull morning, when Mark slithered out of bed. Whether he knew it or not, today was his big day, in more ways then one but I'm getting ahead of myself. He crawled out from beneath the bed sheets, which almost seemed to glow in the dark. The silky satin window curtains remained closed, as always. Mark didn't like the sun, but unfortunately, he had to swim in it, like every other fish in the sea. 


He was sort of a funny man, he wore two different pairs of socks, always. One seemingly climbed higher on his leg than the other, but no matter, they reached pretty high because he despised ankle socks. 


"I'm the best," He almost thought aloud, as he put on a tie composed of multiple colors.


It was a selfish thought indeed, for Mark was a rather self-centered person, others tended not to notice though, for he was soft-spoken everywhere but his job, because when he was there, he put on his act. Like he was the class clown, but in a manner where it was best he behave, so he was quite the jokester at work, always playing pranks on people. Such as the old water and flour gag. He worked at Television USA, a big television company. 


He had been given the job opportunity years ago, and he took it. Which is ironic, because nobody seemed to pay attention to him .. at all. He never really had the chance to make a good first impression on any of his co-workers, or make the chance for anyone to really even know his name. 


But thats besides the point, because today is his big day, the day he could be one of many in a chance to get that new promotion. If he got that, people would actually know him, and be more respective of him. And if he had that job, he could manipulate others, because he had that kind of power, again, as I stated, another selfish thought. 


He then realized that he just panned out his day in an extended fantasy, as he stared blankly in his bathroom mirror that had at least one tiny chip or crack, he was too lazy to fix it though. He was in the middle of putting on some black work pants, and he laced up his converse shoes, which obviously didn't cooperate with the dress code at work, but he didn't really care because nobody noticed him when he made an effort to make others laugh, so he thought of wearing these "clown shoes" as an inside joke he can chuckle to himself about.


He then put on a blue polo, and a nice, jet black suit over that. He looked rather dorky, and was considering a decent looking man, at best. He then paced himself to the sink and creaked the door to the cabinet under it, open. He reached for the hair spray and gel, because he did his hair in a rather funky fashion. Standing on end in a swirl like chocolate ice cream poured into a crisp waffle cone that you can get at any buffet. He had deep brown eyes to match his hair and no facial hair, as to keep his child-like appearance. He is 31 years old.


As soon as his wacky stature matched his daily outfit, he stormed out the front door like an olympian runner, holding his hands above his head. He thought this funny, but he was shameful because the only one who laughed at his jokes was himself. He waltzed into an empty garage, for he had no cars, he blew all his money on silly little things for himself, such as the bobble-heads he has planted to his desk at work, in his cramped little cubicle. 


His scooter was in the shop, all the time, and thats because Mark forgets to pick it up, so it's been living there. Little did he know its been there for years, and he owes the scooter shop a lot of money for keeping it safe. So he opened the garage door and scooted over to the street side in a sort of sing-song matter, bopping his head as he was humming along to the elevator music playing in his vacant cranium, he wasn't very smart at all, as you probably have already assumed.


He strolled the crosswalk in long strides, as to make exactly seventeen steps across, as he does every single weekday, he had weekends off. To reach the bus stop a half mile away, he stepped on all the cracks on the sidewalk on the way there, because he found it to be a rather easy way of keeping himself entertained, as to not get bored with his life, for it is rather boring. He didn't really have a purpose, so he thought working at Television USA would maybe give a slight edge to his life that came to a screeching halt since he was a child. He was always the invisible kid.


Well, not today, because today he was going to give it his all. That is, if nobody tried to trump his attempt. His only worry was that the promotion would be given to someone the boss favors, but he tried not to think about that now. He bumped into a rather large man, with broad shoulders and a shaved head. He kind of shrugged Mark off his shoulders as he pushed him aside, making him stumble a few steps.


To make sure he didn't face plant, he stuck his hand out, and as it scraped hard against the gravel,he found his torso drenched in puddle water, his suit was ruined. He quickly returned to his original position, now standing up. And shrugged it off, though he was quite furious. 


"There's nothing lovely about today," He muttered under his breath, just loud enough to enjoy the sound of his own voice.


There was no time to run over to his house to grab another shirt, so he was tempted to yell the bald man's head off, but then he thought before he unclenched his jaw to open his stupid mouth. He needed to keep his composure, so he continued to grind his teeth, with the thought of failure lurking in his mind.


Its strange he didn't know this man, because he rides this bus to work every weekday. City Transit, Number Eighteen. He sat in the front, as to selfishly be the first to get off. While he was thinking of this, the bus just arrived at their feet, but he was quite dazed, so he stepped on last. As he gently strode up, he peered at the sign that proclaimed to watch his step. He always thought that was a rather comedic sign, for nobody ever trips on those stairs, well today, he did.


Rather embarrassed and flustered, he got up and moved to the back, for someone, the shaved headed man, had intended to take his seat, and purposely get off first. Today wasn't starting off well for Mark, but he remembered to keep steady and hold on. Just for today. 


He arrived slowly, it seemed, to his destination, Television USA. He walked in as if he already had that promotion and complimented everyone he saw on the way in, including the pregnant lady, asking if she had lost weight, which is rather rude when put to thought. He didn't care, today was his big day. He sat down fast, and spun around in his chair, in his rather tight and cramped cubicle. He flicked the bobble heads and nodded with them in unison, for he still remained in the best of moods. 


He was called to the front of the office by the secretary, and was pulled aside swiftly by the boss. 


"Hey, Mark. Listen, buddy, I've got something secretive to tell you." He stated quietly, almost seeming to quiver.


"Yes, sir?"


"I've been watching you, and your work. You may not think I notice, but I do, just keep in mind, boy, that the promotion is considering you, my friend."


"Really, sir?" Marks spirits lifted, after all, he may have a chance.


"And..." He was cut off by the one of Mark's female co-workers.


She whispered something in the boss' ear. He nodded frequently.


"Excuse me, Mark." He followed the lady around the corner.


Mark peered over the side of the dry wall, to see that the boss was following the lady into the men's room. This wasn't good. Mark was going to lose his promotion to the office slut. Everyone knew it, she is the hugest whore in the whole building, Mark thought very crudely. She has slept with nearly everyone for money, everyone except Mark that is. He started to wonder if it was jealousy that made him think so rudely of her, because normally, he wouldn't mind such a woman. 

MD MD

MD MD. The thought of it sends shivers down my spine. Is that what I really want to be? A doctor? I mean, trust me, I've had my fair share of check-ups. Awkward moments when you don't want to say anything wrong, or when you're trying to remember all the special conditions you have. 


You don't realize it, but when you're a kid, things like this seem sort of silly to you. Back then, you would want to be a ninja or a pirate, or even a rock star. Sometimes, its whatever the media portrays it to be. 


When you start to get a little older, things become slightly more clear than that. It is then, that you want to be a Fireman, Doctor, Policeman, Lawyer, Detective, Crime Scene Investigators. Again, that was either portrayed by the media, or it is a special interest or fantasy of yours.


Only when you explore to you come down to a few choices. In my case, Doctor or famous Musician? Let's get real here, becoming a doctor would take several more years of school and training, but it would be well worth it for the money. Or famous musician, which would consist of what i've already been doing. Singing, writing music, joining a choir. Going to concerts and open mic nights, buying and learning instruments, and becoming decent. That is a lot more of a fantasy though, because being discovered is a very difficult thing to have happen.


Or I can be a part time doctor, part time musician? I don't know. I really don't have anything figured out. Though I am quite the committed person, sometimes I find I'm only committed to the idea. I joined this high level choir this year, that I'm not sure I want to be a part of anymore, do to the difficulty. 


What I'm trying to say is, at least have an idea of where you're going, so when they ask you, you can lie and tell them what you're hoping to be. Or, you can say,


"Who the hell knows?"


And everyone will have the idea planted in their skulls, that you'll be fine. No matter what happens, hold on to your dreams. I know I am. 

Preview

Preview for a new original song:


http://theofficialpapercastles.blog.com/files/2011/08/Intergalactic_Compromise.wav


Intergalactic Compromise


Preview Lyrics:

And we have lift-off

The engine bursts, and exits the face of ground

As well as gravity, and in space there’s no sound

Faces grow green with anxiety

Cause shooting for the moon is my priority

But according to me, I don’t want to be one, I’d rather be two but

According to things, you don’t want to be us, you’d rather be you

So please come down from the pedastal that’s so far from the ground

And I’ll change your mind, with this intergalactic compromise of mine

…

Please wait, the whole song will be available whenever, as well as other songs, sorry for the crappy recording, hope you liked it. I was sick the day I recorded this, so no hating. ._.

Dissolve

It’s gleaming.. No, more of a glistening, to put it rather bluntly. I push aside the blinds like they were shattered expectations, and to my dampened eyes, saw what is to be known as lightening, rather dreary and frightening. I recalled that I had gently slipped my cat out the screen door, when the thunderous boom shattered my ear drums and brought to my attention that he awaits for me, outside the window, pawing at the screen cover. 


I opened it up like I would a jar of jelly, and drenched in rain water, he sulked his slinky body in like a mysterious man creeping into a crooked old house. The inner walls of the room seemed to be closing in on me and the cat, with their solemn faces growing more sickening by the moment, and their eyebrows curved at just the right angle to send shivers down your pathetic  spine. And there it was upon us again, the loud boom, and unpleasant thoughts began accumulating in the closet of the very fabric of my mind. 


And it was in this, that I founded the flood to make today all the more lovely, for I have never seen a sight so peculiar, unto mine eyes so perceptible,  at such a graceful momentous occasion, for the occasion was that there was none at all. I was enlightened by the very idea of it. The dogs were howling in the other room, as if calling out to the moon that no longer remains existent, but is quite the contrary. It was brought to my attention that all is still well, the others I’m confided with were still in a groggy state, if not, already lost to the battle, overcome by overdue, most deserved, sleep. 


We all needed it, though I rarely succumb to it. I wore my stress atop my cranium, and my heart on my sleeve, while I still bear my cat in my arms, his tongue pokes out of his soft lips, his nose dry, and his legs dangle ever so graciously, because he has lost to drowsiness as well. I set him down, without him uttering a single word, and I set my bare feet on the carpet, swinging the blankets over my head, hitting the wall my bed almost leans against. 


I stepped past the couch using my brittle knees to slide past to the door, and I creaked it open, peering over the side, and escaped the cold, dry, air, which is my bedroom. I noticed the soothing sound of the water fountain caressing my very thought process, for I contemplated too much the time of day. I was invisible to the air in which I was engulfed. I became familiar with my surroundings in which were already made memorable long ago, but I do suppose it is just a nice feeling to feel renewed, a sense of rejuvenation. 


I combined the like terms of consciousness and alert, in the fact that everyone else in the house was fast asleep, so as I waltzed over to the kitchen, I felt a sense of enlightenment in the fact that I was sneaky.  That very same moment is when my mother exited her room, in a groggy state, unlike mine where I was more aware, which is good, because then I wouldn’t have to make the slightest effort to make myself known. 


We conversed further of the stormy weather outside, which was sort of putting a dreary, yet exciting, taste to the morning. It felt rather dreamy indeed, to stand inside, and be able to hear the pitter-patter that surrounded myself. All was calm, though the dogs were wide awake and tussling on the ground, them persistently letting out small honking noises through their snouts, their rather small nozzles, for they are only five months old, approximately. 


My sister comes bursting through the door, rather drenched in her black coat. She was wearing rather casual clothing and had her hair in a mess, for she was still in the process of getting ready for work. So we warmly welcomed her inside and she jumped into the conversation with us as she talked about her experience with the beginning of the rather loud thunder, explaining to us how she literally shot out of bed screaming bloody murder. 


Rather comedic, if I do say so myself. Then, we took the dogs outside and we all stood out in the rain for a little bit, as for me, barefoot. If there is one moral found in this morning, it is that I truly enjoy storms …