Wednesday, March 26, 2014
When I was thirteen or thereabouts , I thought my grandmothers were ancient. In reality one was barely sixty and the other just past it, but they had already donned old age like a cloak. Both wore the flowered house dress with apron and for dress the black crepe with rhinestone buttons. Both knitted, both lived with daughters and both had very limited social lives. It was not because they unmotivated or anti social, it was ,I think, that this was the role society had for them.
At twenty My mother who was just in her fifties seemed not ancient but old. She worked, played bridge, attended church and was much more active than either of my grandmothers. She traveled back East to see family and cared for my father whose diabetes was getting the best of him. Her image of herself was definitely younger than my grandmothers’ at that age.
Now I am in the age range and I wonder did they seem old because of my younger self classifying them that way or was it society. I do not consider myself old. I still walk with a broad confident step not the shuffling of age. I still work. I travel and socialize. I most assuredly do not dress in print house dresses or black crepe. In fact today, I am sporting coral jeans and a Dr. Who tee shirt. So what the heck is old ?
Attitude makes us old. Acceptance makes us old. Explanation? Ok. Here goes. We are old not matter the calendar or physical state when we become set in our ways and unwilling to keep an open mind to new ideas and new things that life give us. We are old when we accept the fact that the calendar rules us. Sixty? Time to creak and moan and so we creak and moan. We make ourselves old when we are not involved in life and all the surprises it throws at us. We are old when we refuse to adapt to circumstances and seek what is good even in the bad moments.
So do I think I am old. The calendar might say so but my mind and spirit is still learning, still adapting. So I am young and damn it I intend to stay that way until the last breath I breathe.
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Betrayal of Perfection
Betrayal of Perfection
Darkness engulfed her. The bottom of her lovely white dress gently wrapped around her thin legs as if gravity was no longer working, and for the most part, it wasn’t. The ideal dress as white as a summer cloud was the only item not yet stained in the darkness as black as sin. The hair of hers covered her face, but she didn't notice. Her eyes were shut. She could feel the frigid, unforgiving murk suck her in. Alarm surged through her veins and attacked her limbs so she could no longer move them. The oxygen inside her lungs burnt as if they were holding a toxic gas within them. Terror sliced through her spine as sharp as a katana, urging her to scream. Her precious air escaped her mouth in the form of cheerful bubbles. Trapped in those cheerful bubbles would be the last of any joy or glee she would ever experience. The vine of leaves that had been twisted around her neck waved goodbye to the life she knew and the people she had loved above her. The innocence began to disappear from her lovely white dress. The ivory was fading into grey as she was dragged deeper into the blackness as dark as the evil-doings of the world.
If these were to be her to be final moments, she wished to see them. She lifted her head and opened her icy eyes to take in the last thing she may ever see. Through the lightlessness as ungodly as sin, she saw her father look down on her. Her protecting, loving father’s gaze was fixed on her. His arms were folded against his chest. His fawn eyes glared at her as they never did, but she could barely distinguish them. He looked like an evil mercenary scowling down on a crimeless prisoner, making sure she could never escape. He had no reason to worry. She couldn’t save herself no matter how desperately she tried. Even so, her only guardian who she depended on was not going to save her. She prayed he would, but he would never budge. He could not bother to rescue his little girl this time. This was his plan. He only set her on the Earth so he could exterminate her. Her demise was his mission; his goal.
Not once in her life, as far as she could recount, had she ever done anything so vile to deserve this as retribution. What motivation did he have to make him try to strangle her with a vine of leaves? For what reason did he shove her? She yearned to have her questions be answered, but she could never return to the faultless world above her to ask them. Her body was being swept away and taken beyond the slightest likelihood of redemption. Her only chance salvation was becoming was so distant, he could no longer be seen. The deeper she fell, the more of the murky sin tainted her fair, ivory attire. The sinless alabaster it once held was a long forgotten memory. She was blinded by a new domain enveloped in ebony immorality. She found the last bit of the toxic gas in her lungs and wasted it to cry her father’s name. The shriek would never be heard for all that came from her mouth were cheerful bubbles, but even if he heard, he would not have rescued her. The onyx consumed her completely. The princess, age of ten, has been banished from the righteous world.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump. I’m sure he’s saying words, but all I can hear is my own heartbeat. Tha-thump, tha-thump-
“Kari!” With sudden silence, my ears were no longer flooded with blood. I looked up and winced back away from his cold eyes. “Pay attention. You’re never going to be let out like this.”
“I felt it again.” I bowed respectfully, snapping back up to sit properly before him. With my legs folded below me and my hands in my lap, I looked up at the image I’ve known since I was five. Cadeyrn, my father’s brother, had reluctantly taken me in when it became clear Mother would bear no male children. It was the third try when they’d given up, resulting in my sisters and I. Kaisa, the youngest, is seven years old and had been sent to the Southern villages to become an apprentice to the baker there; it wasn’t unusual for children of our status to gain jobs when jobs are few for even adults. Kalina, the middle child, lives with us still but she has been prearranged to marry Zan, the son of another noble family. I am the lucky one, to take up the position our brother would have taken should we have had one.
“It is nothing. I told you, what you sense can be no more than the edges of your own mind. Crazy, this one is. They would have been much better off to send me the shorter one.” Cadeyrn muttered, putting away our tools. “Your test is in an hour, and you’ve done nothing but slack. Got your head in the clouds, you do, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the elder sent you away to live with the Moderns permanently. Why I couldn’t just take the Biin boy, I’ll never know.” He slamed the door, giving up on me.
I sank down on the cushion I sat on. He’s right; I’ll never pass. But he couldn’t have taken Zan Biin as his apprentice, for only our family has learned this through the generations. Father to son, it’s taught, and twice already the ritual has been broken in my generation. It’s supposed to be Cadeyrn’s son that learns these ancient secrets, but his wife died young and bore him no children. So he must teach the next able child; his brother’s son. But, alas, Father has no sons and so I was chosen. A lowly daughter, whom so many believe is incapable of bearing the physical strain that is a part of my training.
I stood up, stretching my tiered limbs. I can’t even conjure a sphere; I’d never pass the test, and then I’ll disappoint Father. But running away would hurt him more; he was so convinced he’d be proud to be the father of the first female Keeper. I’ll never leave this village, let alone become a Keeper.
My last hour free of the discriminating stares passed too quickly, and I found myself standing, head bowed, before the elder for trial. The entire North Village stood around us, waiting in anticipation.
Today, March 30th, was the day every apprentice to the current Keeper held trial. Today was the day it would be determined whether or not I was to be allowed the final training, or if I must end now. The final training would take me away from this village and into the world of the Moderns, where I would be able to live for a year. I didn’t know what I would have to do there; no one did except for Cadeyrn and the elder, who had been the Keeper before him. My grandfather.
“You hath finished your training.” He said slowly, and all the whispers ceased. The whispers had been biting at my back, slashing me and beating me down. A girl can’t become a Keeper; it’s unheard of. “Do you believe you are ready?” I was taken aback. What does it matter what I think? What do I know, I’ve only just dipped a toe into the life of a Keeper. How am I supposed to know if I’m only the apprentice?
“I-I don’t know sir.” I stammered, fully aware of all the stares. “I don’t think so,” He stared at me, neither warmly nor coldly. Just wearily. “No. I’m not ready.” I couldn’t lie, and I had to take my master’s word. He knew better than I, and the entire village agrees, which means it must be true, right?
“Why do you doubt ye'self?” The elder asked, no revealing emotion in his voice. I hesitated, thinking on how to word it smartly.
“Because, those who would know my skill better than I have told me so.” I answered, glancing behind the elder to where my master stood six paces back. The ice in his stare was no different than I knew for ten years.
“Do you believe others over your own knowledge?” He asked, making me look back to him. I didn’t know what he was doing, but I did know not to drop my guard. That was one thing I have learned from all my years of training.
“Yes, when I believe they are more experienced. Is that not the reason I am apprentice and he is master?” The elder nodded approvingly.
“Yes, but it be not his word you should listen to, Young One.” He stared down at me, still very tall in his old age. “It be mine. I do not see you as powerful and disciplined as Cadeyrn had been.” I bowed my head, readying for the verdict. “But you possess another attribute that makes you just as strong.” He turned his head up toward the crowd around us. I glanced upwards, the smallest hope sparking in the lowest part of my stomach. “We have a future Keeper of Wind Tides: young Kari Draco will set out to the Modern’s world upon sunset.”
Instead of the clapping that I expect had followed similar words in previous generations, murmurs overcame the entire village. I had done it. I don’t know how, but I'd passed. I’m not strong enough to raise a sword and I’m not quick enough to outrun the goats, but somehow I had passed.
Sundown was mere hours away. Father was more proud than I doubt even he'd expected to be and Cadeyrn did poorly to hide his disapprovement, but neither reached me through the flurry of emotion and colors that rushed me towards the boats. No one would come with me; I am to go alone. I was about to begin my own life, and I can’t believe I did it. I get to leave for the final training all on my own, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I was terrified, and I was exhilerated.
Looking back from the rear of the ship, the entirity of everything I'd ever known looked no smaller than it would from a mile above. But this was so very different; it was a different angle here and an entirely different perspective. It wasn't I that was embracing the wind; it was my uncle. It wasn't to home that I'll fall when the wind dies down, but to an entirely different world.
But if I could make it this far, then I can complete this final stage of training. There's no way I'm coming home until this year was up, with my tail between my legs. I can do this.
My hearing started to fade and I was forced onto my knees; vision blurring. My mind opened up.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
“Kari!” With sudden silence, my ears were no longer flooded with blood. I looked up and winced back away from his cold eyes. “Pay attention. You’re never going to be let out like this.”
“I felt it again.” I bowed respectfully, snapping back up to sit properly before him. With my legs folded below me and my hands in my lap, I looked up at the image I’ve known since I was five. Cadeyrn, my father’s brother, had reluctantly taken me in when it became clear Mother would bear no male children. It was the third try when they’d given up, resulting in my sisters and I. Kaisa, the youngest, is seven years old and had been sent to the Southern villages to become an apprentice to the baker there; it wasn’t unusual for children of our status to gain jobs when jobs are few for even adults. Kalina, the middle child, lives with us still but she has been prearranged to marry Zan, the son of another noble family. I am the lucky one, to take up the position our brother would have taken should we have had one.
“It is nothing. I told you, what you sense can be no more than the edges of your own mind. Crazy, this one is. They would have been much better off to send me the shorter one.” Cadeyrn muttered, putting away our tools. “Your test is in an hour, and you’ve done nothing but slack. Got your head in the clouds, you do, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the elder sent you away to live with the Moderns permanently. Why I couldn’t just take the Biin boy, I’ll never know.” He slamed the door, giving up on me.
I sank down on the cushion I sat on. He’s right; I’ll never pass. But he couldn’t have taken Zan Biin as his apprentice, for only our family has learned this through the generations. Father to son, it’s taught, and twice already the ritual has been broken in my generation. It’s supposed to be Cadeyrn’s son that learns these ancient secrets, but his wife died young and bore him no children. So he must teach the next able child; his brother’s son. But, alas, Father has no sons and so I was chosen. A lowly daughter, whom so many believe is incapable of bearing the physical strain that is a part of my training.
I stood up, stretching my tiered limbs. I can’t even conjure a sphere; I’d never pass the test, and then I’ll disappoint Father. But running away would hurt him more; he was so convinced he’d be proud to be the father of the first female Keeper. I’ll never leave this village, let alone become a Keeper.
My last hour free of the discriminating stares passed too quickly, and I found myself standing, head bowed, before the elder for trial. The entire North Village stood around us, waiting in anticipation.
Today, March 30th, was the day every apprentice to the current Keeper held trial. Today was the day it would be determined whether or not I was to be allowed the final training, or if I must end now. The final training would take me away from this village and into the world of the Moderns, where I would be able to live for a year. I didn’t know what I would have to do there; no one did except for Cadeyrn and the elder, who had been the Keeper before him. My grandfather.
“You hath finished your training.” He said slowly, and all the whispers ceased. The whispers had been biting at my back, slashing me and beating me down. A girl can’t become a Keeper; it’s unheard of. “Do you believe you are ready?” I was taken aback. What does it matter what I think? What do I know, I’ve only just dipped a toe into the life of a Keeper. How am I supposed to know if I’m only the apprentice?
“I-I don’t know sir.” I stammered, fully aware of all the stares. “I don’t think so,” He stared at me, neither warmly nor coldly. Just wearily. “No. I’m not ready.” I couldn’t lie, and I had to take my master’s word. He knew better than I, and the entire village agrees, which means it must be true, right?
“Why do you doubt ye'self?” The elder asked, no revealing emotion in his voice. I hesitated, thinking on how to word it smartly.
“Because, those who would know my skill better than I have told me so.” I answered, glancing behind the elder to where my master stood six paces back. The ice in his stare was no different than I knew for ten years.
“Do you believe others over your own knowledge?” He asked, making me look back to him. I didn’t know what he was doing, but I did know not to drop my guard. That was one thing I have learned from all my years of training.
“Yes, when I believe they are more experienced. Is that not the reason I am apprentice and he is master?” The elder nodded approvingly.
“Yes, but it be not his word you should listen to, Young One.” He stared down at me, still very tall in his old age. “It be mine. I do not see you as powerful and disciplined as Cadeyrn had been.” I bowed my head, readying for the verdict. “But you possess another attribute that makes you just as strong.” He turned his head up toward the crowd around us. I glanced upwards, the smallest hope sparking in the lowest part of my stomach. “We have a future Keeper of Wind Tides: young Kari Draco will set out to the Modern’s world upon sunset.”
Instead of the clapping that I expect had followed similar words in previous generations, murmurs overcame the entire village. I had done it. I don’t know how, but I'd passed. I’m not strong enough to raise a sword and I’m not quick enough to outrun the goats, but somehow I had passed.
Sundown was mere hours away. Father was more proud than I doubt even he'd expected to be and Cadeyrn did poorly to hide his disapprovement, but neither reached me through the flurry of emotion and colors that rushed me towards the boats. No one would come with me; I am to go alone. I was about to begin my own life, and I can’t believe I did it. I get to leave for the final training all on my own, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I was terrified, and I was exhilerated.
Looking back from the rear of the ship, the entirity of everything I'd ever known looked no smaller than it would from a mile above. But this was so very different; it was a different angle here and an entirely different perspective. It wasn't I that was embracing the wind; it was my uncle. It wasn't to home that I'll fall when the wind dies down, but to an entirely different world.
But if I could make it this far, then I can complete this final stage of training. There's no way I'm coming home until this year was up, with my tail between my legs. I can do this.
My hearing started to fade and I was forced onto my knees; vision blurring. My mind opened up.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
Great Grandpa(he is kind of an angry person)
Wrinkled hands lay clasped in his lap as he reminisces about the past
sitting on the porch swing, he looks to the sky
"I never should have left Louisiana, this damn town is nothing but worthless"
he proceeds to inspect the beautiful yard before him
squirrels on the feeders attempt to chase away blue jays
flowers bloom before his eyes
and those eyes that have seen far too many bad things
eventually find their way to the garage door
as he makes his way across the lawn his wife calls from the backdoor
"That damn nosey woman," he mutters
he gets on the riding lawnmower he has charished for so long
and mows the lawn for the fourth time that day
sitting on the porch swing, he looks to the sky
"I never should have left Louisiana, this damn town is nothing but worthless"
he proceeds to inspect the beautiful yard before him
squirrels on the feeders attempt to chase away blue jays
flowers bloom before his eyes
and those eyes that have seen far too many bad things
eventually find their way to the garage door
as he makes his way across the lawn his wife calls from the backdoor
"That damn nosey woman," he mutters
he gets on the riding lawnmower he has charished for so long
and mows the lawn for the fourth time that day
The Candle in the Dark
The candle in the dark
Praying that on day
This night with its
degenerating fog
May end
And that the life I
used to cling to
Like a toddler to
their mother
Never wanting to be
left on their own
In fear of that pain
That eerily creeping
forward
Numbness
That people walk
around with
As if they had just
trudged in from the dentist office
Instead of numbing
their jaw to take out the pain
They numbed their
spirit
Their persistence to
always try harder
So be the candle
shining bright
In the sea of the
world
With all of its
misery and destruction be the
Hope that everyone
needs
And one day you might
Find someone
To be your light
Young Love By: Michaela Gellermann
Young Love
Big eyed little boy
To quiet to say
anything of importance
Crazy flips and
tricks
To get a little
girl’s attention
Not realizing he
captured her
The minute she saw
him
Hurting and healing
First break ups are
hard
Dark haired teenage
boy
With rough hands
Comforts the preteen
From her first
heartbreak
Someone she never
thought of
With any seriousness
She already found the
one
She believes she
belongs too
There’s time
Little girl of twelve
Little boy only
fourteen
The world at their
feet
Their fate within
their grasp
Both already decided
Their fate is
Each other
The pain of real heartbreak
That silent crack no
one else can hear
Though she left him
She knew it wasn’t
Because of him
Of something he had
done
It was her dad
She had seen what
Love could do
Loving
whole-heartedly
Causes pain
Trusting someone
without consideration
Causes false hooded
lies
To seem true
When the truth comes
out
The person who
Loved unconditionally
Dies a little inside
She had an excellent
example
However he never
deserved the ache
The torturous pain
Of having a knife
shoved in your back
And twisted vigorously
She felt the pain
She clearly
understood
The pain she had
inflicted upon his soul
Because she had done
it to
Herself by causing
him pain
She loves him
Needs him
To naïve to realize
the truth
She doesn’t go back
Until it has become
to late
Knowing friendship is
The best she can get
She clings to
The chance of having
even
A small piece of him
In some way
His heart confused
Not understanding why
Why did she come back
Did she still love
him or
Was she just playing
him?
The pain of yesterday
flying back in
With as much force
As a lead balloon
weighing down his heart
She wants more
How can he look at
her and not see
The guilt in her eyes
The pain every time
she sees his face
Always knowing she
blew it
Her one chance of
ever having
That unconditional
love
“She broke up with
me,”
He cries as the love
interest
The one after his
fated half
She said she loved me
why
Why do they always
hurt me
But she came back
The one I’ve loved
since childhood
Even just as a friend
He knows she still
loves him
He has seen the
haunted look in her eyes
The look rings true
of her real emotions
She still loves him
“Let’s stay friends,”
He says
“Let’s take it slow,”
Not wanting to get
hurt he has to learn
Learn of her new
outlook
Gain knowledge of why
she left
She feels horrible
“I cant be just
friends with you anymore”
She announces
“It hurts being this
close,” her heart is
Writhing in agony of the words she’s saying,
“I need you to decide
I can get over you,
With time anything is
possible,
Decide if it’s
possible for you to love me again”
He takes weeks
Specifically two
To her it seems as if
centuries had past
They are together
again
Love how it’s meant
To be
Friday, March 21, 2014
Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen) by Mary Schmich and recited by Baz Luhrmann
One of my favorite poems, though it's more of a speech Schmich wrote for a graduating class. You should listen to Luhrmann recite it on here on YouTube. I don't own it.
Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '97-
Wear sunscreen
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it
The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.
I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth.
Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded.
But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.
You are not as fat as you imagine.
Don't worry about the future.
Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum.
The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 pm on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts.
Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don't waste your time on jealousy.
Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind.
The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults.
If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters.
Throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life.
The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives.
Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of calcium.
Be kind to your knees.
You'll miss them when they're gone.
Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't.
Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't.
Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary.
Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either.
Your choices are half chance.
So are everybody else's.
Enjoy your body.
Use it every way you can.
Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it.
It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.
Dance - even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.
Do not read beauty magazines.
They will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents.
You never know when they'll be gone for good.
Be nice to your siblings.
They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on.
Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.
Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths:
Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old.
And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, Politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don't expect anyone else to support you.
Maybe you have a trust fund.
Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse.
But you never know when either one might run out.
Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it.
Advice is a form of nostalgia.
Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen.
Teenage Girls
Teenage Girls
Laughing , giggling,
squeeling
Noises girls make
during studio nights
Or when excited
The casual raise of
the eyebrow
The smirk of a
creeper
The pillow fights
tossed carelessly at each other
During a pillow fight
Boys think we’re
crazy
Little kids think we
are cool
Seniors think we are
childish
And adults are glad
we aren’t
Getting into trouble
A million reasons to
turn inside and never trust
A few to take a leap
of faith
Laughter
The cure to any pain
Chocolate the cure to
heartbreak
Writing the in the
venting uniform
Tip-tap the computer
keys click
Ding
They’ve entered
another post
About boys
Heartbreak
Chocolate fondue
Wcw and Mcms
Girls are by far the
most complicated
Gender out there
But we know what we
want
“The Girl in the Back of the Room”
Trembling. jaw
Trembling, lips
Trembling. eyelids
Trembling.
Finally, one single tear breaks free,
Trembling its way down a porcelain cheek.
NOT A BLONDE!
She sat in the corner nibbling on already shortened nails
staring out the window at newly green trees
inhaling the scent of fresh cut grass that filled the air around her
stealing glances at the clock that seemed to make time drag on
waiting for the time to come
the time when she would be free to jump from her seat and burst out of the door
into the brightness of a beautiful day
staring out the window at newly green trees
inhaling the scent of fresh cut grass that filled the air around her
stealing glances at the clock that seemed to make time drag on
waiting for the time to come
the time when she would be free to jump from her seat and burst out of the door
into the brightness of a beautiful day
Hills taller than trees, stretching for miles every direction. Dead grass as tall as your waist, blowing in the wind like a sea. Like a place from another time, there is no modern technology to be seen. If it weren't for our own bright colors, you'd think the only souls here are ghosts. But we are here, and this is the modern world. As quiet and lonely as it is here, it's still peaceful.
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