Sunday, June 19, 2011

Wordless Apologies

"Tension fills the room and black clouds linger by the ceiling fan. Dinner was late, bills piled up, nobody called home.
now you're steaming in front of the TV while they're crying softly in the bedroom upstairs. The stalemate burns quietly until they some down, enter the room slowly, grab your shirt sleeves, and look right at you with a pair of warm, moist eyes while starting to give you a soft, smiling apology.
But you  see them coming and your stomach churns with a wave of regret, so before they even get it out, you interrupt with a head shake and a hug.
AWESOME!"

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

choice?

i'm just wondering..don't i have a choice to choose my future?
still today, i have no idea what i want to do. i haven't applied to any college/university.
i can choose when i want to go..right?
it's MY future. MY life. MY deicision.
so why can't people just let me be?
why can't people wait?
yes, i get that they're worried about me but what's their business with my issues?
NOTHING.
thank you for being concerned but stop asking me.
this is really frustating because they have no idea how all this shit in my brain is all jumbled up and i'm trying to sort them out, but these people are making it even worse by keep asking me the same goddamn question.
when i know where i want to go, what i want to do, i'll tell you.
so please just let me be.

Friday, June 10, 2011

The Book Of AWESOME (by: Neil Pasricha)

The sound of rain from inside the tent

     Okay, straight up: You know those big kettle drums you see in the symphony? The ones being pounded with padded drumming sticks by a bald guy in a tuxedo? Well, the sound of rain from inside the tend is like living in a kettle drum.
     Now, let's be honest. The best thing about the sound of rain from inside the tent is that it means you're inside the tent, not outside in a wet T-shirt on your mud-splattered hands and knees, trying to hammer some plastic stakes into the mushy ground. Yes, putting up a tent in the rain is pretty high up there in The Book Of Annoying, a nonexistent netherlist that also features: Walking into spiderwebs, When you realize you're out of deodorant as you're putting it on, When someone says the punch line to the joke you're telling, and Forgetting your umbrella at the restaurant.
     The sound of rain from inside the tent feels safe, secure, and comforting. After all, you're out in the elements, safe from the elements. You'll get the marshmallow roasting sticks later, you'll build a fire tomorrow, but for now it's time to lie on the bumpy sleeping bag, put your hands behind your head, and just enjoy the noise.
     AWESOME!