When the World is Round

Roses are red,
Violets are blue...
When the world is round,
That's when I'll love you.

The Beginning of a Story that will Never Finish.

She sat there and she was all alone. Usually she didn't mind being alone, but today there seemed to be something missing. The bird.

Every single day, Saskia Hamilton would walk to the Mansfield Park and sit at a park bench. She would ponder and wonder about the world. She would write phrases and couplets. She enjoyed her time. She enjoyed her peace. She enjoyed her silence. Pure silence.
It happened on May 21, 2011. She was in the middle of a writing trance. Eyes closed. Waiting for the miraculous words to come to her. And then she heard...A chirp? A bird calling?

Public Transit

Yesterday, I was blessed to be able to cross something off of my unwritten bucket list; I struck a conversation with a complete stranger on the sky train. Don't worry, y'all...I did not talk to some sketch dude who looked sketch-like. Rather, I spotted a women who gave her seat to a more elderly gentlemen. She winked at me in a friendly way, and I saw around her neck a BC Hydro card thingy.

so I said: "What do you do at BC Hydro?"

...and that one sentence completely set her off...(not that it's a bad thing, it was really interesting)
She began talking about the department that she works in (which just so happens to be environmental whatchamacallits) and how she and her comrades work to help lessen the impact of stuff to do with fish and rivers and water and stuff (Hydro...durrr....)..She also mentioned how there were two buildings and one was at Edmonds station where we parted...And she also spoke of something called...Statefield Park or something??

I don't even remember, but it was quite the conversation (though it was mildly one-way...I didn't have much to say)

So conclusion: Meet random person on public transit and instigate conversation? Check.

I'd Be Content To Hold Your Hand

I can't read your mind, love. As much as I'd love to be able to and make everything easier for you I can't. I'll be patient and I'll be supportive. I'll be whatever you need me to be until you figure things out.



Whatever you need me for, just say the word.

Calm as waves at night....

I don't own an iPod. I know. I'm stuck in the stones ages, aren't I? If I did, all of my music would be chill, relaxed, acoustic, independent music...Artists like Said the Whale, Blind Pilot, Radiohead, The Shins...Obscure things that are unheard of among the ruined ears of modern mainstream society.

Yes, all of the music that I'd listen to would have me so chill that all I'd do in my spare time is just lay there contemplating the fact that time was going by.

And if I can't breathe...

Since the beginning of May, I have had a cough. An annoying, persistent, unhealthy cough. I'm not absolutely sure why it's there, but it's there. The doctor only gave me a short explanation that doesn't really makes any sense, and he gave me some medication and it seems to be working...kind of.. slowly but surely...

But because of this ailment of mine, my mother does not permit me to swim my heart out. At first, not swimming did seem to help a little bit...I got the rest that I needed...but now, when I'm swimming and after I'm swimming...I feel like I'm not sick. But when I don't swim...and when I'm just lazing around at my place being moody and pissed at the world...I just feel so dead. Unfortunately for me, unless I properly give this cough a beating, I am not going to be allowed to swim full-time. And personally, I'm not sure what the chances of that happening are. My mom promised that I could swim as much as I wanted in July, but with the specification that I felt up to it by her standards. Well, July is coming in one week. I've gotten a lot better,but I'm not completely sure if it'll be gone by then or not. All I can do is try my best and pray to God it'll go away.

Meanwhile, my mother's paranoia is starting to grow. Today, she spontaneously decided to take me to the radiologist to get my set of breathers x-rayed. I certainly hope nothing comes out of it. Yesterday, a friend of mine asked me what my deepest fear was...I've figured out the answer to that question. I'm afraid of dying young and not being able to live out my life. There are dreams that I have that are yet to be realized, things that I want to do, places I want explore...My deepest fear is of not having enough time to do those things.

Must Keep My Cool.

I have realized recently that I am quite moody. One small thing could trigger hot tears, anger and feelings of defeat and I could feel those emotions for about the time period of 5 minutes and then the next thing you know, I'm laughing and smiling like I'm having the time of my life! I'm crazy I tell you...

If anyone is overly melodramatic, it's probably me...I really should just try and keep my emotions at level for at least one day. I swear, if and when I get married...and if by then I have not solved this mental problem of mine...oh goodness...

In other news, I really want to see my report card.

!@#$%%^&&**!!

My Idiotic Napper

The Tale of My Idiotic Napper Lover
- A Ballad

It began on a hot summer's noon:
I was the most spontaneous film editor around,
He was the most idiotic napper.

He was my lover,
My idiotic lover,
My napper.

We used to turn so well together,
Back then.
We wanted to look together, around the world,
We wanted it all.

But one noon, one hot noon,
We decided to look too much.
Together we kiss a stranger.
It was smoky, so smoky.

From that moment our relationship changed.
He grew so crazed.

And then it happened:

Oh no! Oh no!

He beat it a car.
Alas, a car!
My lover beat it a car.
It was dangerous, so dangerous.

The next day I thought my nose had broken,
I thought my eyes had burst into flames,
(But I was actually overreacting a little.)

But still, he is in my thoughts.
I think about how it all changed that noon,
That hot summer's noon.

My eyes... ouch!
When I think of that idiotic napper,
That idiotic napper and me.

13 hour days, 11 hour nights...

I like to have time. I don't like to be rush. I love to be early, I hate to be late.
Waking up at 8:30am every summer morning has become somewhat of a habit of mine. I enjoy my free time of frolicking and cavorting as little otters do in the sea. I enjoy the freedom of not having my mother around till 2 in the afternoon. And I enjoy just chillin'.

At the moment, the world is a happy place; it is a kind place. Nothing is cruel...everything is fair, and I have the feeling that this summer may be the best yet to come. It's full of potential and chance. I feel a surge of excitement as I examine the possibilities of the coming days, weeks, months...

The sun just came out. :)

Truth

I want to be close to you.

F.R.M.L.

Run away with me,
Have no fear.
Take my hand,
We're out of here.

Attempted Simile To Demonstrate My Love

I need you like the world needs the Sun. I want you like my mom wants coca-cola. And I love you like I love food, except more.

I'm Blind

What a hypocritical, ridiculous, immature, conceited, whiner that girl is. She's got a great life, but all she can do is complain. Is she completely blind to the fact that everything is literally picture perfect in her life? What more can the girl ask for? Apparently a lot.

"If God is for us, who can be against us? ³² He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? " Romans 8:31-32

Hi, my name is Nancy and I am blind and ignorant to all the blessings that God has brought into my life. I have a disgusting attitude and I am ungrateful. [Thesis]

When one does a purely active sport, one finds oneself in a position where time for thought is unlimited.
Once upon a time, on a certain summer day...a girl was doing a kicking set where all she had to do was...kick. So...she got to thinking about her life and how everything sucked. Every single thing about it just seemed exactly less than perfect. And after awhile of this thinking that everything sucked, she did something really unexpected. She finally followed the advice of this guy and she made a list of all the stuff in her life that actually made it good. And came up with...a lot. Then she thought of the youth group she went to last night and remembered a verse she read and how it didn't have anything to with this at all, but at the same time it had everything to do with this because of what she took from that verse.

"And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.” "
Mark 1:11

We're a Freakin' CHICK FLICK?!?

Damn.

The Strangest Sensation

I'm feeling the strangest sensation at the pit of my stomach. It feels weird...I feel like I've lost feeling from my body.. It's like... I'm not floating...but like...there's been a cord that attached me to my body and that cord got cut...

I feel...

It's indescribable...

I feel...

There aren't any words...

What a strange sensation...

I Want To Close The Door

Oh...you....
[insert sigh here]
It's so sunny outside, yet so dark and drab in my mind...

It feels as if my head is trying to support an anvil.
Compression, tension.
I could fall asleep so easily...
Just drift away...and perhaps not come back...
I'm so tired.
Tired of school.
Tired of homework.
Tired of family.
Tired of friends.
Tired of life.

I'm just so...drained and dead...
[insert sigh here]
Oh...love...

Take Initiative

I'd rather you try and completely fail than not try at all. I've got faith in you, love.

Tolerance

T stands for a lot of things. One of the things it stands for is a guy I know. It also stands for tolerance, something that I truly need to master if I am going to survive this life mentally stable and it's something I need to master if I'm going to go to school with this guy and stay mentally stable. He's proud, stubborn, firm, and brutally honest...depending on who he's talking to. Which he'll be brutally honest when it comes to me 'cause he knows that I don't really care what he thinks or says. but honestly, I think the reason I don't care what he thinks or says is because if I did...I wouldn't be able to live. At all. I would be constantly worrying about what he thinks and I'd just not be able to function. Not that I don't give his thoughts about me some consideration. I mean, after I get over my pride and I carefully dissect what flaws of mine he may be talking about...sometimes, there's something useful about having a person who is firm in his beliefs around. Sometimes. Other times, it just feels like I should go kill myself to make the guy happy because I'd rather do that than reform to his vision of what I should be. Other times, I wish there was a way for him to at least accept an idea as what it is... an idea...and that he not have to analyze ad pronounce it as either sinful or righteous. Which brings us back to tolerance. I can only speak for myself when I say I need more of it.