Pattern of Life

I see my time as a bolt of cloth

With a clear pattern

Lengths of dark blue and grey, drab and dull and uninteresting,

though occasionally flecked with reds and purples.

And then every so often there is a patch of vibrant

Rainbow colors

Glowing and shimmering, eclipsing the other sections in their beauty.

These sections are my favourite

But the other parts drag them down.

They are outnumbered, and sometimes they are unravelled or stained.

And so I lose one patch of exquisite design, and must wade

Through more of the grey

In hope that the next section will be perfect.

But then I pause as I study the fabric, and look away from it

And realize that I am the one doing the weaving.

I am choosing to weave the pattern I do.

So why am I mostly using grey?

Surely I can make a better design than that.

I look through my yarns. I know that I can’t weave everything in rainbow

But I choose a gold thread,

And add it to the loom here

In another place I add a skein of crimson,

A dash of violet

A splash of lush, vibrant green.

I weave for a little, then sit back and smile

I can still see the grey, faintly.

The blue peeks through occasionally.

But now it is surrounded, embroidered, wrapped and intertwined .

A bit of silver catches the light and glitters; a liquid aquamarine flows in and out.

And I am happy.

Because now even though they are not rainbow

The patches have a beautiful pattern of their own.

Musings on love ♥

Love, love, love, love, the gospel in a word is love. Love makes the world go 'round. If love is the rythm, you are the music. So this is love...
Augh. It seems that every song is about love. Or at least 80% of them. Lately, it also seems that all my thoughts are about love. Or at least 80%.
Ever since last Saturday, it's been the only thing on mjy mind. I see the world through a heart-shaped lens, a pink tinted fog. It's not quite that I'm in love, it's just that I can't stop thinking about it, musing about it, wondering about it.
True love's first kiss. May I have this dance? And, (gulp!) will you marry me?
Boxes of chocolates, buckets of popcorn, plates of spaghetti. Cologne and roses and fresh-cut grass and smoke from a bonfire. The glitter of a charm bracelet, the sparkle of an eye, the shine of a perfect tux. An orchestra tuning, techno music at a bowling alley, laughter, soft comforting words whispered in an ear. Running my my fingers through your hair, holding a rough, large hand. Beinging enfolded in a huge hug. A sweet, tender kiss. Love heightens the senses. It fulfills them.
How can anything truly go wrong when you have a prince who will treat you like the princess that you are and protect you from every danger?
Like every girl and woman, I just want one thing: to love, and be loved in return. Passionately, deeply, intensely, tenderly, strongly, steadfastly, and completely. All you need is love.

From my journal archive-The Last Day of Summer (modified)

Tomorrow is the first day of school, and as I can't concentrate on anything else right now, I may as well mull over how I feel.
How do I feel? Well, for one, disappointed. This is not for a moment the sort of large scale depression I felt at Camp. It's just disappointment. My summer that was supposed to last forever obviously didn't. And I didn't fill near the list of expectations I set for myself. But...I think I'll still do them. In fact, they'll spice up what otherwise might be an uneventful year. Speaking of boredom, I'm a bit apprehensive. I'm afraid this year is going to be boring. Worse, I'm afraid it's going to be...bad[?] What with this new office thing and stuff, and the likely frictions with certain relatives who will remain unnamed? And no recess? Fie, it could be dark indeed!
But I also feel faint hopefulness...and a tiny flame of excitement. No matter who teaches it or how it's taught, history is still glorious history! Biology is still about LIFE. Art is art is art. Latin is classic and heady and soo useful (rolls eyes). Geometry is, well, shapes. Hey, you win some you lose some. And English is where I can always express myself. Hey, I'm sort of looking forward again to learning! Who woulda thought it?
And then there's the hope. In the worst of my depression, my thoughts were: it will always be the same, never changing, never interesting. But I forgot the wild card of life. AS long as there are kumquats and blueprints, and the Office, and weekends and haircuts, and of course wonderful boys (:D), then things will always turn out okay. Sure, I may be bored occasionally (life can't be constant excitement--you'd die from exhaustion), but I don't have to worry about life being boring. After all, we affect our surroundings, and if I was boring, I'd kill myself.
Sometimes life seems like something just to get through (Superchick!). We just have to remember that the journey is half the fun. And to stop, occasionally, and smell the roses and snapdragons and daffodils and skunk cabbages. Blooming in the most unlikely places.

October 2, 2008

Sorry that I haven't posted in a while. But then, really, why am I apologizing to my readership of zero? Things have been busy, I've been sick, I lack inspiration, and at the same time nothing much has happened.
If anyone actually is reading this, thank you. As is obviously clear, I didn't get close to achieving my "70 Things that I would do this summer". I think the final tally rests somewhere around, oh, ten? However, I've come up with this resolve: Most of the things that were on my list were not specifically summer things. Really, they were just living-more-vibrantly-and-adventurously things. So...I'm going to spread them out over the school year and continue to do them. It will spice up a year that might have been otherwise unextroardinary.
I guess I'll just end with another poem, as there seems to be no better way to create blog posts without much thinking than to leach off other people's genius.

Magic, by Shel Silverstein

Sandra's seen a leprechaun,

Eddie's touched a troll,

Laurie danced with witches once,

Charlie's found some goblins' gold.

Donald heard a mermaid sing,

Susie spied an elf.

But all the magic *I* have known

I've had to make myself.