“Pick the day. Enjoy it - to the hilt. 
The day as it comes. People as they come... 
The past, I think, has helped me appreciate the present, 
and I don't want to spoil any of it 
by fretting about the future.” 

Oh, I know you understood. 

Yes sir, it shows I was no good--

I hit the sidewalk and this is how it starts

Hide in a raincoat when things are falling apart.

Cause sooner or later this is bound to stop

Come on, let's savor what we're falling over.

It breaks my heart.
The destruct of this world.
Suicides, people killing, people dying.
The pain of others, their unheard cries for help.
Wrong paths, wrong choices, absence of faith.
If only they knew of God, and how much He loves them.
That their pain could be eased.
That their worries and troubles could be swept away.
That it's not too late for them. Their broken hearts could be restored.
Their distraught minds could find peace.
If only they knew what awaits, what could be theirs.
That life on this world is nothing. This world is nothing.
That everything will all truly be okay if only they follow His ways.
It breaks my heart, the divide in humanity.
The lonely arms that need just but a hug.
That boy, that girl, somewhere out there...
knowing that just a word, that a simple word could change their lives.
Their destiny.
It sincerely breaks my heart in a way beyond my own understanding,
but it also raises me in a way beyond it all--to fight.
To fight not only for myself, for all that I do for myself is for Him,
But also for them. For my brothers and sisters.
My love for humanity expands in such a way, a manner beyond and above.
My chest in flames, in firing desire for change. For rescue. For salvation.
I'll give my all, all that I am, all that I have,
and bring forth positive change.
I won't go down those pity paths,
I'll rise above, and I'll bring my people with me.
Together we'll devour grape clusters in the other realm.

"Won't somebody come on in and tug at my seams?

Oh, send your armies in of robbers and thieves

To steal the state I'm in, I don't want it anymore."

"I am not sure that I exist, actually.
I am all the writers that I have read,
all the people that I have met,
 all the woman that I have loved;
all the cities I have visited."
 -- Jorge Luis Borges.

He gave me a heart-shaped box of chocolates,
filled with lifesaver gummy rings and gummy worms.
He's an attentive listener, something I like.

I gave him a rectangle-shaped box of chocolates,
didn't opt for the heart. Hid a note inside instead.

We held hands, shared laughs, hugged,
and kissed.

We kissed until our lips became swollen.
Even after that, we kissed.
We kissed like we meant it,
even if that wasn't the case.

There was no case to be proven, in fact.

My lips feverishly pressed against his
his fingers with precision traced every contour of my back.

A hidden intention, displayed for each eye their own to see.

A cold February night
out in the open
exposed and caught within
the contaminated air
of plastic romance.

Breathing became essential.

Bliss.
Bliss.
Maroon
crimson
ignorant
bliss.

His heart beat against the brick wall
my swerving thoughts by this point muted.

Poles apart,
Lost for words.

Was it love? no.
But he held me as if it were
and I caressed him as if I knew it.

Words seemed foreign
Body language is all we had left.
It's not as if it were the end,
but it does no harm to pretend.

The drinks from the night before,
series of books read after that,
none of that mattered there and then.

In the midst of intertwine,
throughout the sighs of make-believe,
we were just two golden fools
content with the obsolete of Roman rules.

I'm double, I'm single, I'm black, blue, and grey.

Somebody get me this book, please.

Oh, Peggy Moffitt, I am obsessed.

I feel weak in my words.

and I'd much rather be asleep.

Your talk is cheap.

"Jolene, Jolene" set on repeat.

I found you in a book, once,

years far too long ago.

With squinted eyes I read your squiggly lines--
you've stayed with me ever since.

Let's swim to the moon, uh huh 

Let's climb through the tide 

Penetrate the evenin' that the 

City sleeps to hide 

Let's swim out tonight, love 

It's our turn to try 

Parked beside the ocean 

On our moonlight drive...

I 

don't

think

I'll 

ever 

be 

able

to 

get

over 

this 

man. 

Thom Yorke, I'm in love with you more than you'll ever know (unless I miraculously get to meet you in person someday, of course.) But, it's not that I-want-to-lick-your-face-off kind of love, no. It's far much more than that. Gratitude, at the least. For helping me get by this thing called life during the long-worn days, and hyper-hearted nights of my youth.

FANCY YOUR BLUE MOOD: 

RainyMood.com: Rain makes everything better.

you can't make your heart feel something it wont.

"And it came to me then. That we were wonderful traveling companions but in the end no more than lonely lumps of metal in their own separate orbits. From far off they look like beautiful shooting stars, but in reality they’re nothing more than prisons, where each of us is locked up alone, going nowhere. When the orbits of these two satellites of ours happened to cross paths, we could be together. Maybe even open our hearts to each other. But that was only for the briefest moment. In the next instant we’d be in absolute solitude. Until we burned up and became nothing."

- Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

"So she had to satisfy herself with the idea of love — loving the loving of things whose existence she didn’t care at all about. Love itself became the object of her love. She loved herself in love, she loved loving love, as love loves loving, and was able, in that way, to reconcile herself with a world that fell so short of what she would have hoped for. It was not the world that was the great and saving lie, but her willingness to make it beautiful and fair, to live a once-removed life, in a world once-removed from the one in which everyone else seemed to exist."

- Everything is Illuminated, Jonathan Safran Foer

"I began to draw an invisible boundary between myself and other people. No matter who I was dealing with. I maintained a set distance, carefully monitoring the person’s attitude so that they wouldn’t get any closer. I didn’t easily swallow what other people told me. My only passions were books and music."

- Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart  

And everyday, I'll only become stronger, wiser, and triumphant.
Fearless, loving, passionate, and giving.
I'll be all the things I knew I'd be, and do all the things I knew I'd do.
I'll do everything and more, because with Him life itself is infinite.

This song has stuck with me ever since I first heard Holy (Hilary Swank) 
singing along with it on the film "P.S. I Love You." 
It both broke my heart and became my favorite part of the film all at once. 
Every here and then (when I'm home alone) 
I enjoy having my own little reenactments of the scene.
Minus the suspenders (cos' I don't own any...yet, of course.)

I'd been quite intrigued by Andy Warhol since high school, but ever since I studied him in my art history class last semester, I've since then become rather obsessed.  He was so eccentric, and real. Quite an outcast, underdog, misunderstood... yet he made a movement all his own, one that still lives even years after his death.  He was the main reason for my stop at M.O.M.A during my trip to New York City. And standing face to face with his work... well, it was a heavenly experience.
 One that I'll cherish until my limbs turn to stone.

No matter how crappy a Tuesday may be, 

an episode of New Girl always makes it better.

Ryan Kwanten is guest-starring (on tonight's next weeks episode!)

Oh, Nine-o'-clock. Come sooner, pleassee.

And right now...I feel I'm not doing enough for this world.

This world of which I feel minimally apart of at times.

With that said, I'm-ma go donate blood today.

It'll keep me more at ease. Selflessness helps keep me at ease.

And tomorrow awaits the start of my new English class.
Just the thought of it makes me want to:
prance around like a literate-loving ballerina. 

I want something similar to that of Sonny & Cher.

It's simple, really.

Best pop songs of all time = FLEET WOOD MAC.

An occasioned thought.

So, Valentine's Day is like a week or two away (and I'm obviously not counting down the days because, well, I really don't care much for it.) The lovers are Valentines-dazed, the singles with Valentine-hate, and See's candy stores with Valentines-PAY. (I know, sounds silly. but am I right, or am I right?) I guess I'm not against V-day, but I'm not crazed over it either. Regardless the point of having a boyfriend or not. Sure, it'd be nice to get dolled up for the occasion, a fancy dinning with that one special fella...and c'mon, who doesn't like receiving roses and cutesy boxes of chocolate? seriously? If you say you're not one of them, flash-news news-flash honey, you're a little something that rhymes with the word BIAR. bazzzinga! but as cute as all those things may be, it just doesn't phase me. February fourteenth shouldn't be the only day out of the year that people go out of their way to demonstrate their love and appreciation for one-another. And no, you don't need huge ass stuffed bears and 150 dollar bracelets (although 150 dollar bracelets are never a bad thing for any occasion, wink, wink) to do so either. If you truly love someone this and that much, and value and appreciate them vastly, then you'll go out of your way to show them at least thrice a day (okay, now I'm exaggerating) but seriously, when you have that special person that sparks your life up more than any bottle of Stella Rose ever could, you should fill their lives with gestures proving so. Whenever you have that chance to, whenever you feel that desire to, when you know damn well "I love you" texts aren't sufficing that demonstration of the burning rampage inside of your heart, then, dearest darling, do something. Flatter your ever owing catalyst. After all, even the Jedi master of all Jedi masters (Oui, I'm talking about George Lucas) did so. May the (romantic) force (s) be with you, mate.

I like the way you look at me,
your eyes filled
with words
with wonder
impatience
and want.

"What's your name?," they ask me,
"And since when has your favourite color been blue?"
"Are you fond of Cough Syrup?"
"What plus what gives you two?"

In my mind, my sandy eyes are the ocean.
An open invitation, won't you take a dive?
Clashing waves of endless answers
expanded sea of restless nights.

I like the way you look through me,
your eyes see past my typhoon lies.
And they take me home,
they take me home,
your silent word-filled eyes.

And if you have five seconds to spare

Then I'll tell you the story of my life.

And the countdown starts-- n o w.