10.31.07

These slippery seats keep pulling me down till there is nothing left to pull. When all my sticky fingers are glued to the plastic ground, then I will know where I am. For now, I will just slide off this slippery seat and hope that my hands will catch the handles before I am too long gone. Then I hope we laugh, and that our laughter is like wild fire that cleans up all the mush on this brown forest floor. A fire that spreads until every tree has tasted its smoke, and calls to the steamy sky for rain.



10.30.07

Once, the hands of time declared it was morning even before the sun rose. And I watched from my bedpost as the stars danced in the gloomy dark. All was beautiful, but still, I waited for the sun. My fingers fumbled for the light switch, and my feet tumbled down the hall: Everyone was asleep. The stars were not loud enough to coo the round-bellied dreamers out of bed, so I called to the sun “Awake, bring light and become the morning.” And I never stopped calling its fiery name, but when sleep finally rolled in: The sun hadn’t come.



10.29.07

You smiled for a moment. To relax, to say, “I’m not as mean as my turned in eyebrows and stressed forehead let off.” And even though you wanted to cry, you smiled, because strangers like to smile at each other. Because smiles are connections, like phone lines between you and a hundred other nameless faces on a hundred other busses sitting in a hundred other seats. So I will smile back and maybe even say good morning on this dark day where the sun hasn’t yet risen. And even if you don’t understand my language you’ll still see this smile.



10.28.07

I can barely feel it: Feel my teeth broking apart by that dark car that crashes into my little-lovely dream: And now, it isn’t as lovely as it was. Can’t you see it? We are so fragile a people, with so fragile lives. And my strong-white bones don’t make up for my soft yellow skin, my fragile freckled skin. Can you feel it too? Can you feel the rope breaking as you fall to the rocks below? Can you feel your foot slipping? Can you feel the cold, and the cuts, and the soft silent skin waiting to be crushed?



10.27.07

Men grow old like flowers wilt
And their hair grows flimsy and thin
And their hearts beat slower within
Until all the blood cells can’t swim
Through the veins fast enough to wear all the air
And with vinyl surrounding the walls in the room
Their hungry hands drip over the edge of the bed
But their feet no longer feel the floor
And the sound of their wheezing is whipping
My ears and death runs all their vision around
Illusions of idles that once held their hearts
In this quick-beating fast-pacing place
Now this sleepy indefinite furrowed brow place.



10.26.07

All our feet are molded to the molten floor,
Our paths have shaped our arches and our souls
The calluses reflect the rocks beneath our toes
And how are shoes are worn, and how are shoes are worn:
How much they’re worn.
Sad the ant that feels the heat beneath our heels
Sore the worm that seeps beneath the ground
Let us fold the worries in our furrowed brows
And sow the seed; sow the seed of love
And walk the sky, walk the sky above
Yes work the ground, and spread the love
Oh, let us spread the love.



10.25.07

To come to terms with his wife/mothers death and the uncovering of his true origins, Oedipus gouges out his eyes and exiles himself. He calls for his children, but then doesn’t want them to see him because he is disgraceful. What Oedipus went through in this play matured him and killed his curiosity. He said that he wanted Creon to take the crown, but he still gives orders as if he were King. This shows reluctance to let go of his title, which is understandable because everything else is taken away from him so he needed to hold onto something.



10.24.07

Oedipus finally learns the truth by threatening the Shepard’s life. When the Shepard tells him that he is his wife’s son, Oedipus is horrified and, ironically, runs home toward the palace. His reaction is different from Jocasta’s because he holds on to the truth and seeks his home (which is the source of the problem) as a sanctuary. Jocasta tries to hide it, and kills herself. This shows that Oedipus would rather live with something horrible because it is part of him, while Jocasta cannot even deal with it. I don’t think either reaction is better, because both have faults.



10.23.07

I watched Elizabethtown today because I didn’t have much homework, and I’ve never seen it. I also never do anything after school except homework and chores, so I decided to give myself a break. Oh, and if you hadn’t noticed, I am not writing 100 good words today because I am feeling lazy. So my question is: Does this count? I mean, does this count as my 100 words? Probably some other people have done this before, but I like to stick to creative stuff. But just so you know what’s up: this is one of my lazy-day for sure.



10.22.07

All their spidery-foam fingers kiss the exfoliated flesh of my cheeks,
That shines with warmth from the hidden sun and stings with the salty sea.
Afraid that the grippy souls of my shoes will fall on the slippery grime,
And break my bones on the rocks below taunting my palms with the craggy slime.
“Come closer!” whispers the sideways rain that falls with a gloomy glow,
And splashes my face with sandy tears as the white tide floods me below.
It Floods me below. The crashing waves slide through the cracks below: Gripping tightly my skin, and flooding my soul.



10.21.07

Sampson never cut his hair, just like most of the guys at school. His hair was the reason he was strong: Sampson was so strong that the spirit of the lord came upon him and he ripped a lion in half as if it were a lamb. But Sampson was also in love with a girl named Delilah, and Delilah was bad news. She cut his hair while he slept. Then the soldiers came and gouged his eyes out and mocked him in front of thousands. So Sampson pulled the pillars down on all of them and they all died.



10.20.07

There was always sand in my soggy socks, my mom’s hair, and my brother’s diaper; and the sand never left. The two-hour drive always felt like years, and the wind was so cold against my bare-skin I could swear almost I smelt snow. But Daddy’s hands were so strong and steady when we all built sand pyramids, and when we would fly our kite. We had this gigantic rainbow-colored kite that looked like Captain Hooks Pirate Ship. And we would all fly with our kite, using its green and purple sails as wings: When my family went to the beach.



10.19.07

And there really is a stand
A strong one
Held up by each weak leg,
And steadied by the blood that flows through them
And this stand is long, gentile, and deep
Pouring hope into all that lacked it:
From the toes and up the calves
through the knees and up the thighs
And without moving it’s lips
The two legs speak the worried hope alive
To live with the empty selves
With a voice that can not be heard,
but you heard the voice
And what you heard was like thunder
And it told you there was a stand



10.18.07

Here, everything is made of copper, like pennies. And I remember how I used to pick them up. I would be so happy that I had my own penny. And I would stick it in my pocket and I’d forget about the melting popsicle that trickled down my arm, and I’d forget about the yellow birds that sung songs high above my head. And all I could think about was my penny, my luck little penny that was warm inside my pocket. And I wish I had a lucky penny that I could think about now, inside all this copper.



10.17.07

If we could touch, like others touch, like others feel, like others reach: we would know. We would know real love, like the kind that people forget, like the kind that shows when our eyes cross, yes ours, yours and mine, all of us: strangers. The kind of love that hints at the kind of touch that loves. But we stand so far apart from one another, afraid to invade privacy, afraid to let loose the fire burning on our tongues. We’re afraid of each other, and afraid of the sound of our breath, afraid to hear our neighbors pulse.



10.16.07

With enough stamina to drown China, Poseidon dominates the seas. He tosses the winds in a game of catch with the sun, sending ships to their salty-blue grave. But where does such a god get this power? Not the thunder clouds that Zeus sends him, but Welch’s 100% juice. And if grape juice isn’t enough, Poseidon chugs a glass of the recently added flavor: Grape-Blueberry Wave, which keeps this sea tyrant refreshed for his raids and death-wreaking storms. And while you might not be commanding the seas, commuting two hours to the office each morning and afternoon is challenging enough.



10.15.07

I can imagine what it would be like to be a tea bag. All nicely packaged with other teabags that are just your age and have all the same interest as you, such as peppermint, green, and caffeine. And you are dry, and clean: Prettily packaged in a little cardboard box that is wrapped in plastic. But then the box is opened, and you are taken away from your brothers and sisters that are all sitting in that nicely packaged box, and are dropped into a scolding liquid, pushed around, and then pulled out. You become soggy, wet, and old.



10.14.07

I did not wear the world for nothing.
when I walk down the road I loose pieces of my feet
and my feet, they wear away:
Until all the pieces are gone.
And I loose pieces of my legs
and my legs, they wear away:
Until all the pieces of my legs are gone.
And I keep walking,
and I keep loosing until
my torso,
and my chest,
my arms,
neck,
face,
are all gone.
And I am gone too.
But I do not stop walking then.
And that is how people walk:
And that is why people are gone.



10.13.07

There is this course that NASA is offering called “Communicating with the Extra-Terrestrial,” that meets every Thursday and Friday from 6 to 8. It is a three-month course that started in September, and I have already learned what the red blinking signs on the fence in my backyard mean. No longer am I mystified at what the aliens that live on my roof are trying to tell me, and I have even been able to strike up conversations with them about my favorite restaurant, bands, hobbies, and etcetera. But I still haven’t a clue why they are on my roof.



10.12.07

When I was six I dug a hole all the way to china: The hole started in my back yard. At first the ground was tough, and I had to stomp the shovel through all the roots of grass and weeds that clung to the dirt like rope. And the ground was full of rocks. But as I got deeper, the rocks started to disappear, until it was all sand and then all water, and I swam and swam, down and down, up and up. And when I finally reached the top I was in a lake, in Beijing china.



10.12.07

I did not do my 100 words yesterday. I tried to though, I sat at the computer screen staring at a blank word document, and then I played solitaire, then I stopped playing solitaire and stared at the blank word document. Then my sister turned on The Nutty Professor, which I don’t really like. But the sound was up loud and it kept distracting me, so that I couldn’t write. And then finally my dad told me to get off the computer because he had to get on the computer. So I got off the computer, and went to bed.



10.10.07

Monster Steven was hiding under the table. He was waiting to attack. His fingers were permanent makers that stained everything he touched. That’s why princess Ashley was trying to avoid him, because if he touched her, her shirt would be spoiled. This would result in not being perfectly the same as all of her imaginary sheep. “Get away boys!” she says to Monster Steven and his fellow savages, invisible savages. “Ashley!” he commands, “be quiet, Hannah’s trying to do her homework!” he points a Lego gun at me head, “Pow! Pow!” “Steven!” Stomps the frustrated Ashley, “You’re ruining my game!”



10.09.07

I didn’t do the dishes last night because I was working on my story, but I didn’t finish my story either. I am sorry. I also didn’t wear my rain boots because I didn’t know it was going rain. Instead I wore my Reeboks, which absorb water better than any sponge. So now my feet are going to be wet, and I’m going to get a bad grade, and there will be no clean dishes for dinner tonight. I didn’t do what I was supposed to do even though I was trying to do what I was supposed to do.



10.08.07

Today I felt uneasy. You know how sometimes yawning can evoke tears when you are tired, well this morning I did not even have to yawn. I was not feeling sad, but my tear ducts where going crazy, and I kept feeling like I lost something. I was completely antsy, and every ten minutes I would check to see if my phone and wallet were still with me. I don’t think I would be as paranoid if my mom wasn’t the kind of mom who gives lectures. Whenever I loose something, she is right away on my lack of responsibility.



10.07.07

Now, getting back to the characters: I can’t say how I felt about Penelope. Her situation was so unusual that I could never, from my experience, judge her conduct. That way of thinking—where there is no divorce and females are one hundred percent inferior to males—is so completely opposite of ours that it is like teaching a baby to skydive, for me to relate to Penelope. It was difficult for me to like this story. I usually love myths and classic literature, but I really didn’t like the hero, and I don’t think he deserved to come home.



10.06.07

Rhonda leaped toward me with a huge grin at the Y yesterday, “Guess who I ran into at Safeway today?”
“Don’t tell me…” I teased, “Roy?”
Her features sank “Am I really that obsessed?”
“Yes.” I replied, “but I’m the one who suffers.”
“Suffers?” Rhonda croaked, “How do you suffer?”
A smirk crossed my lips, “All I ever hear is Roy this, Roy that. And last week it was Dave, and the week before that it was Joe. But you’ve got to help me Rhonda, help…” I pleaded, “Help me Rhonda! I’ve got to get her out of my heart!”



10.05.07

I call it messy because all my history falls when it’s touched. When it's moved all my memories come poring out, written on bits of scrap paper. They cover my hands with ink and the desk with books, and dirty dishes, and receipts. They clutter the ground also, ripping under my feet and getting lost in the piles of thoughts, and slowly fading to match the rusty carpet. Until my bones are old and my skin is lazy with wrinkles, hoping I won't forget, trying to dust off the old papers while not loosing the new. Ever yearning for more.



10.04.07

When her husband of 35 years went missing, all Trish could think was, Who is going to fix the back door now? Of course, there was always a handyman, but how would she ever find a reliable one. There was always the phone book, but she had no clue how to navigate those pages, let alone go online! Her husband always did that sort of thing for her. She hoped the police would find him soon, because she didn't want to walk all the way through the front door in order to get to her vegetable garden that would be strenuous.



10.03.07

I love them because that’s how it’s supposed to be. It is my personal part in this archetype of love. You love them because you need them. They are always forgiven, above everyone else they are forgiven. Of course, they change sometimes, because that is how life is; but once you are interlocked, it becomes very hard to leave, and it takes more effort not to love than to love. That is how it works, that is how it has always worked. It’s not like the fickleness of acquaintances that can always be dropped: It’s the constant assurance of family.



10.02.07

My favorite spot to sit on the bus is the handicap couch. It's two seats near the front, and there's one on each side, they face each other. When they’re empty, Daddy and I take them, but we always have to stand up if a handicap person comes on the bus. We usually have to run to catch it, and then run after we get off so that I make it to school on time, and Daddy makes it to work. But we usually do, so really, there are no worries.



10.01.07

Close
your eyes,
stop.
Rest,
all demands pull this way and that,
Left and right,
North and south
in our
busy world.
How
Come we,
the rich nation
is the one with insomnia
The one that is always
Moving
where the lights in
all the buildings never go
out,
and the phones always
ring
I will hang up.
Let loose
The sleep that clings to my eyelids
Why American Dream
when I’ve my own dreams
why would we
Know
why should we
know
what we’ll be thinking in seven years
how we’ll be
talking
breathing
I would wait.