10 Things of no importance what-so-ever

Some of the many silly little things I can do that don't mean much, but are kinda fun:
1. Make dolls out of old t-shirts
2. Make amateur doll-clothes
3. Embroider
4. Plant choke-cherries
5. Write haikus
6. I know the basic idea of how to write a sonnet, though I still haven't actually written one
7. Write a smattering of Chinese characters from memory
8. Repair rugs, pants, socks, those sorts of general things
9. I know a smattering (and I mean a smattering) of Elvish, Japanese, and maybe some Spanish (Nothing much, really.)
10. Make shortbread from memory
11. (bonus, baha.) I know what Belum means! :D

And that's it for now, like I said, nothing much, but kinda useful in a way :)

The words of solitude will pass, just like the golden light of summer.

 (Started last Summer, finished only recently.)

They are locked behind barred lips,

Never to see the shining glad sun,

Nor to see compassionate blue eyes.

Words of

Darkness,

Distress,

Depression.

Heavy,

Forlorn,

Orphaned words.

Words that make my heart seem as if

It was crafted from lead.

Like small drops of

Nothing,

Fallen from a white throat.

They are never to be given voice.

Like a wound

That must not be revealed;

And can not be revealed.

Suffered in solitude, no one suspects.

Like Invisible teardrops of blood,

Falling to a checkerboard floor,

There they are to be lapped up by a

Dark and lonely,

Invisible terrier.

I see an abandoned and crushed straw hat,

Smelling of summer,

Thrown carelessly over my closet bar,

Like all of the summer months condensed,

It brings remembrance of the good times-,

{When you canoe smooth as silk and fast as time across the murked lake,

A straw fedora sitting upon your brunette head.

It was given to you by your Grandmother last summer,

When you wanted that sort of thing.

.  

{Laughing and talking loudly with your siblings,

Your soul soars across the darkening sky.

You follow your younger sister as she swims like an eel,

Long and smooth in the water,

Her astonishingly long hair flowing behind her,

A contrast to her decidedly tomboy attitude.

You paddle swiftly toward her

As she waits grinning with her horse-like teeth,

Her arms and legs pushing against the water

And the black deep below.

{Your brother sitting behind you,

Paddling with rapid, strong strokes,

His muscles clearly showing through his tanned and clear skin.

You reach your sister,

Your canoe’s wake trailing smooth as glass on the tourmaline water.

{She attempts to board your diminutive ship,

Snaking long,

Tanned arms over the side,

A spidery leg accompanying a few feet across.

She tries to heave her blue clad body up into the sleek, green canoe,

Only to have it rock threateningly.

{You shriek,

High and shrill,

Like a whistle blown by a traffic-directing policeman, alerting to danger,

{And she hastily splashes back into the cool water.

She tries a few times more.

Hesitant,

And unsure.

She’s done this before,

Many times before,

But the experience is always new,

Like a logger truck

Careening down a steep mountain-slope

Of a road.

{She grips the side of the canoe again,

And she heaves,

The canoe rocks,

Then tips over completely,

Flipping onto its top,

It lands all three of you into the water,

Flailing,

Splashing,

And shrieking,

Once again.

{Suddenly,

All noise ceases,

It is calm and quiet, you swallowed little water,

And you don’t really need to breathe just yet.

The bottomless dark below is serene,

As if you were suspended within your mind.

You can’t stay forever;

You do need to breathe,

Even if you wish it weren’t so.

{Eventually you push,

Gliding toward the surface,

The evening sky; and the world.

You break into the air,

Taking a deep breath as water splashes all around you.

{You survey the scene,

You can see your brother and sister,

The canoe is upside-down,

And the paddles calmly float away from your group.

Amazingly, your straw hat remains on your head, soaking wet,

And still the same shape it was before you got dunked.

{If only the paddles were so easily accounted for}

-But it’s just a memory, recounted with sadness, or fond nostalgia.

A memory that seems almost melancholy in your present mood,

A mood of dark thoughts,

And tarnished longings.

You get to the core of this swirling pool of emotions;

You feel like the invisible girl,

Forever reaching out while others turn their faces away

Towards the things that you will not experience.

They leave you behind.

Like a forgotten and intricate pebble,

You are left by the roadside,

Under an over-reaching sky,

Beneath the waving grass,

Waiting for someone new to come along,

Waiting for the process to start all over again.  

A title is only worth as much as it's wit.

I am excited to reveal it, but do not feel that it is ready for the hardness and disappointment of the world yet. Still only a newborn, easily crushed under the weight of gravity. Delicate as a spring daffodil, beautiful and pure.

Why would I reveal it too early, only to lessen it's chance of survival? I love it too much already.

Besides, it has not yet been fully named.

Sneak peek of something I've been working on for a very long while. (can't remember what the inspiration was.)

The canvas he had found was dingy and old, he had once started halfheartedly painting a Chinese bowl with a daffodil design over a dark blue background a little toward the top corner of the left hand side, but he had never finished it.

"It is important to question the ideas and decisions of people in positions of authority?"

    "Question everything", as my mother has repeatedly told me throughout the years. I have taken that sentence to heart, I even question my own actions and thoughts.
    Questioning my country, state, and town leaders is no exception. Examining every aspect of their words and actions, are they moral, ethical? "Do they resound with my opinions of right and wrong?" "Do I have clear ideas of right and wrong?"
    Sometimes you may even have to revise your own opinions of right and wrong. I've come to learn that nothing is a fact, everything changes with time and with new perspective. Constant change is an important part of our world and our lives.
    Some of our country's greatest triumphs have come from questioning old ideas and beliefs, as well as the authority figures of the time, Take, for example, the Declaration of Independence, and later on in our country, the civil rights movement. Both are powerful events in history. Both times, the people pf our country decided to question laws, customs, and authority figures, and they decided that it was time for change,
    The ability and right to question one's government, and that governments laws, is an important aspect of our society. Use it well.

Of the House Wren

There is a bird,

A maternal little bird

Who visits the

Westerly-peak of

My little green house

But once a long gray year.

There is a bird,

A motherly little bird,

Shaped like a teardrop,

Brown and gray

With a sharp black beak

Pointed

Toward the end of the day.

There is a bird,

A wise little bird

Perched silent and unmoving,

A guardian of seemingly

Unimportant things,

A guardian of the voices small.

There is a bird,

A knowing little bird,

With striped-black wings,

And an anticipating look

Above a

Lovely spotted vest,

An anomaly of things

Uncertain.

There is a bird,

An occasional little bird,

“Who,”

I sometimes wonder,

“Are you?” “And what,

It your purpose in this

Particular place?”

“What is so special about

My space?”

2

There once was a bird,

A hushed little bird,

Who was always deep,

With lovely spoken words,

Of a thoughtful and a

Soulful kind,

Full of voice,

And full of mind.

There once was a bird,

A silent little bird,

Who sang to me often and long,

Of a charming scene,

With a wonderful song.

This little bird,

This thoughtful little bird,

Prompted me once to write

Of the Visiting bird.

3

There once was a bird,

A hushed little bird,

A black little bird,

And a silent little bird,

Whose word about the

Brown and knowing

Little bird

I

Have always kept. 

Nighttime Epiphany. (If you'll pardon the expression)

 I would like to share a profound experience I had last night. It was about a question that has been puzzling me for years, ever since I began to remember my dreams, specifically the ones I had during illness.

* * *

I finally figured out what made all of those past sick dreams so weird. It would seem that my mind had managed to shrink me.

(Yeah, not a very good pic, bit I really think that it describes the dreams well.)

Like a small bug on a knobbly carpet.

But I'm probably getting ahead of myself.
Have you ever had one of those sharp, fuzzy, softly loud, feebly protesting through a frozen body, with heightened senses dreams, whether you were ill or not?
I've been trying to figure out how to describe them, and what makes them the way they are for the longest time. And I think I've finally cracked it!!!!!!
In a number of instances, I can remember giant quilt patterns, huge fuzzy-feeling pebbles, and humungous doorways that it took forever to reach. I always felt minuscule, and everything around me felt wrong. Everything felt strange, and disproportionate. I remember giant distances along almost boulder-like pebble paths. Everything seemed sharp, and it hurt my mind. So I've settled on the startling theory that I had shrunk in those particular dreams.
The one downside to this theory is that I managed to give myself the same feeling last night as I was trying to fall asleep. Big mistake. I felt like the world was falling away all around me, and it was like every particle of my being was amassing inside my head. For awhile I was able to just open my eyes and everything would come back into perspective, and I just rejoiced in finally figuring it all out.
And then the feeling wouldn't go away when I opened my eyes. I started getting a sort of vertigo, and I felt closed of from everything, almost even closed of from the rest of my body.  Almost nothing would make it go away. So I began to pray.
I prayed for awhile, but even just the simple act of opening the prayer eased the feeling a little bit. It helped me feel close to something, someone, that someone was god.

I learned something last night, though I'm not certain as to what. I experienced a profound epiphany. I cracked something that's been boggling my mind for years. In a way, I enjoyed the experience, even the terrifying cut off part.
I doubt that I will encounter anything of it's kind anytime soon.

A Maker's Blog

 A second blog I created awhile ago,
http://dailycreativeprayer.blogspot.com/
For to post the things I make, in the hopes of inspiring a few people :)

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 :)

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.

Wayfarer phtotshoot

 I had a dried bouquet of purple flowers sitting on my keyboard, and a few days ago I set my wayfarers on the piano after I got home. A few days after that, I noticed how very eye catching and photograph-able it all looked. So, I photographed it :)
Let me know which ones you like the best :)

Oh YEAH!!!!!!

I did it!!!!!!!!!! I can hardly believe it!
Six whole months without chocolate, I win :)
This is the best accomplishment ever!!
Yes, it was terribly hard, I almost gave in a couple of times, I almost gave up once or twice. I unwittingly ate a little bit of chocolate in a granola bar at Scholar class ages ago, I could have said to the winds with this experiment, I could have eaten the whole granola bar. But I didn't. I got though six whole months!
Though there were a couple of ignorant slip ups, I chose to keep going, I was unstoppable. Now I am forever strong. This has taught me something; I can and will accomplish everything and anything that I set me heart on.
I am all powerful :]

End of my week

Well, my week is up. I will keep writing on here, maybe not everyday, but i won't abandon you completely :)