The Accidental Activist

http://tmagazine.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/03/25/the-accidental-activist/?hp

There is hope, don't you feel it too?

Probably not a single person will find this on my blog, but even so, I'll be able to find here for future reference, hopefully :)

Colors Of Forever

They see nothing
Their eyes are glazed 
With the light of computer screens
[a web worthy of Shelob herself]
Ears stopped with the cries from within.

Jaunty caps
[black as one perched on a speaker]
And sour complaints.

Blue and white are the colors of the day
[could they be the colors of forever?]

I too am stained
Poisoned,
Tied-up and strung
[like the strings attached to friend's hearts, but worse[

But am I? Are they?
[is this all there is for me?]

I'm putting a title here just so it looks like a legit post.

I've been feeling terribly out of sorts today.
I can't really pinpoint it down to one reason.
I'm just grumpy and sad, and maybe a little frusterated.

I keep snapping at my mom and siblings. It's unfair to them, because three-quarters of the time, they didn't do anything to deserve it.

And I was feeling so powerful and free for a few days.
Not so much now.

At least I have "Glastonbury Song" to keep my spirits up a bit.

Why am I feeling this way?

Tears for Japan

Where did the crabs go?
Shells empty. Water stagnates.
Homes burn, sky still blue.

Transformation, written in 2010

I pick scales off my
Wrist. Am I becoming a
lizard? Desert sands.

"Man's mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its original dimensions"
~Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr.

Perhaps, man's mind is never the same as it was a minute ago, there's so much that can happen, inspire, influence.
What a beautiful world we live in, in that respect.

Questions of, perhaps, a delicate nature

I'm not very good at these long, rambling online journal-like posts that a lot of people seem to like to write.
I've got these things I want to say, but don't know what or how.
Or if I should say them on here.

I guess I'm just confused.

The world's so weird lately, I find myself basically just not caring about much.
I don't get obsessed anymore. I used to get really obsessed about a lot of things, but I'm just really neutral about a lot of things lately.
I can still feel, I can still care, but not to the point of despair.
I guess I've developed this after years of watching my parents work themselves up because of their beautifully deep empathy.
They were always terribly sad about something, and they're still rather like that.

Do I understand now? I'm not sure.
There are still things I want to say to you, but feel like I can't because they might seem like feeble protestations, like I'm trying to... I don't know, the feeling's there but the words won't come.

Is this how it's supposed to be?

The Protester

A girl strode in front of a building,
hoisting a sign in the air.
What was written on the sign matters not,
what matters is that the girl was all alone,
deprived of the company of physical human beings.
But from her stance,
from the way she swung her hips,
and from the grim and powerful expression on her face,
you got the feeling that the people of the ages were behind her.
Imaginings of Puritans standing in song rose unbidden to your mind,
as well as those of hippies raucously chanting,
their faces bold,
their faces thrust into yours,
their eyes accusing, baring your very soul. 
The way she marched reminded you of the
ghost dance of natives from long ago
and not so far away.
She had the support of many. 

She was solid in herself,
solid in her defiance. 
 
She did not walk alone,
she was not silent in her seemingly solitary vigil,
she was silent because she was not alone.

Culture

Tea parties.
A culture consisting not of fast food, but of lazily allowing time to pass by, in an almost zen state of feeling.
A culture we are beginning to earnestly live.
A culture of conversation and slow, lazy afternoons with loved ones.
A culture of enjoying the moment, a mug or cup of hot tea snuggled into one's hands.
A culture of slowly savoring the fragrance, the warmth, and the taste.
A culture that brings beams of sunlight, geraniums, and small, simple sandwiches to mind.
A culture that I am learning to appreciate, as my family begins to bring it into our daily lives.

Of prom dresses and eye makeup

Do I now fail to see beauty in mankind and it's works?

No, it is that I fail to see beauty in the facades of mankind.