Afternoon iTouch reflection photos

I don't think I like this in purple. Ah well.

I really like this one.

One of the first photos I took like this after I discovered that the iTouch is super reflective.

Blurrier than I would have liked. No matter.

Thought I'd try the peace sign.

I'm a hairstyle artist!

(Shhhhhhhhhh, don't tell Torthadiel these are on here ;)

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to just vent and spill everything on Facebook. It's not like I have any real grievances, just some emotions that want voice and recognition.

I want to really talk to someone, I really talk to my mom every day, it's just that I want to be intimate with friends. I'm sick of being timid and shy, I want to speak out, I want to help people if they need help, I want to rejoice with people. I don't feel like I have any real, close friends at the moment.

The way things were

In those days, people were born in the same place they died. They rarely ventured twenty miles from around their house. Whole extended families loved within, at most, three miles of each other. People ate only what grew in the climate they lived in. There was very little importation, and few of the inland people had ever seen their country's border.
The people who lived by and on the sea were dark skinned, and ate sea food and native fruits. The inland people were fair skinned and ate much animal flesh and grain, You could tell who was from where, though you rarely needed to. There were clear definitions, in those days.
The only ones who traveled much were the thieves, outlaws, and missionaries. None of these people were to be trusted, the the first tow thirds wanted all of your money, and the other third wanted all of your soul.
I'm not describing all of this out of nostalgia, or wistfulness for the olden days, I'm stating the cold, hard facts. Those days weren't necessarily better, and nor were they necessarily worse. They were certainly simpler, but simplicity isn't everything.
One thing is sure:
Times have clearly changed.

Bangin' away.

The best writer I know of in my life;

http://adamburningham.org/2010/08/12/writing/

Echoes

High on the side of a great red stone canyon, as the sun climbed ever loftier in the robin egg-blue sky, a teen-age girl stood.
The wind played her shining-gold hair about her face, tendrils slid across her nose and mouth, small strands sticking to her recently chap-sticked lips. Her pastel colored skirt swirled around her legs as a few birds rode upon the summer time breeze. She seemed as if she were waiting for something; a certain time, or an appointed signal.
The girl waited for an occasion, standing still as a rose, only until the sun reached its climax in the heavens. She cupped her delicate hands around her pink mouth.
“Starboy! Where are you!” she cried into the still and sunlit canyon. Echoes played off the rosy-orange rocks, undulating back and forth, and becoming increasingly quieter.
The girl began to turn as the echoes slowly died away; her shoulders bent in defeat and betrayed hope.
As she took her first step away from the fissure, fine red dust rising from the ground underneath her bare feet, a whisper, barely audible, light and tender as a white feather, reached her curved ear.
"...here I am..."

This guy ROCKS!

http://kronikle.kidrobot.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/pencilleadsculptures-8.jpg


C'mon, tell me just HOW awesome he is. You know you want to.

What use is a title?

I bought a Shirley Bahlman book at the Ephraim Co-op today. I don't think I've ever actually bought a book before. I've thought about it, but never felt I had the money; or the transport, I guess.
I wonder if I could get Shirley to sign it? It's not entirely impossible, all of my other books by her are signed, and she lives in Sanpete. I've even met her.
All of my books by her were given me by my Dad, until recently, that is. I now have my very own Even Love Is Odd book. I am excited to read it, but I don't want it to be gone too fast. I want it to last a long while. And, anyways, I still have a ton
of unread Library books, though I don't think I will finish the Caroline B. Cooney books.

On another not; I don't want Summer (I insist on capitalizing the first letter, no matter what Word thinks) to be over :'{

The power of the opal

They watched the lights play out in the night sky as he held her in his arms. It was the end of all they had known, and what they had known was not pleasant. The pleasant times were to come in the many years ahead of them.
He looked down into her pale face.
"What's the moral of this story?" He asked.
She regarded his satin-blue eyes, and seemed to consider her reply for a short time. At last she spoke,
"I am afraid I do not know, let's leave that to the bards, the poets, and the harpists.
They sat down together on the dewed and singed grass. The flashing lights drew to an end as they slept against each other's shoulders.

A few years later, after the the time of hard work, and diligence in the building of their new civilization had come to an end, as they took their evening walk, she found a paper pasted to a stone wall.
"Look," She told him, "Someone has written about our adventures."
"I never thought I'd see the day when tales would be condensed and written down, then to be stuck flat to the town wall."
"It is strange, Isn't it? I've read the news my entire life, but I've always thought stories should be told out loud by a bard, or a poet. They give so much life to the characters, the places, and the deeds."
The man peered closer at the paper.
" 'By Bartholemew St. James', do you suppose it's The Bartholemew St. James? Your old neighbor?"
"It could be," She replied, also peering closer, "That's definitely the way he spelled his name." She giggled, holding her slender hand to her mouth.
"It certainly merits a reading, then."
They both stood holding hands, motionless and attentive by the wall for some time.
Soon the sun was beginning to set behind the mountains, causing glorious angel-pathways (as she called the beams of light that shot from the clouds) to dart out all over the darkening sky, the couple seemed to come to the end.
They slowly turned and looked at each other with wonder and satisfaction on their rose and umber tinted faces.
"I rather liked that moral" He said.
"The ending was best" She agreed.

Theory

I have this theory: The teenage years are when children should be given more freedom of choice and will, this is their time to experiment within the safety net of their parents. It is likely that when they move out, when parents usually relax boundaries and set them totally free, they will no longer have a very secure safety net. The freedom can go to their heads, and they will often make bad choices. They shouldn't be given total control as teens, they still need boundaries, but they should also be treated as adults, with many chances to prove themselves.
Parents shouldn't be completely removed, but they shouldn't hover over their child's every choice and move. Rather, they should let the child know that they are there for them, and should always put down whatever it is they are doing in order to talk. Parents should be supportive, and open to everything their child has to say.

I will probably change this as time goes on. I might add things I have forgotten, or have not discovered yet. Thank you for reading, I appreciate your every insight on this post :)

Heart

I hold you in my heart,

Caressed and treasured.

Tenderly sheltered

From all harm.

I love you forever,

I care for you always.

For you are mine.

Adrian Utley's voice

Blue multifaceted crystal,
the rim dipped in lemon juice,
twirled as it is lifted up,
to keep the juice from running.
Ethereally haunting,
grounded to the Earth,
Soaring sweeping.
Smokey around the edges.
Mellow sweet,
roughly dark.
Lisping borders,
curling and tattered.
Ordinary,
and extraordinary,
a human angel,
The voice
held
by Adrian Utley.

In my head

I have to say, trying to work things out through writing sometimes isn't as productive as it is to just confine it all to my head, and conversations with my mom.
"It sounded so much better in my head" :)

Top heavy:

In Physics, a top heavy object will not remain stable for long, it will come crashing down, it simply cannot support it self. This can also be applied to the way societies have been built and are being constructed.
Top-heavy societies will always eventually fall apart. The lower classes simply will not long support top-heavy class systems. They won't support societies with a few mega-rich corporate guys, and the majority of the population an impoverished lower class.
What I don't get is very few people seem to have figured this out, let alone our megaconglomeratecorp of a government. It's happened before, in Rome for example. Though Rome wasn't so much top-heavy as overstretched, and I can see this in our modern empire too.
Just one of the things I thought about today.