"The tyrant has fallen!"

I believe those words, uttered at the hanging of Saddam, gives some gravity and depth to what happened.

excerpt from knights of cydonia by muse

No one's gonna take me alive,
The time has come to make things right,
You and I must fight for our rights,
You and I must fight to survive,

No one's gonna take me alive,
The time has come to make things right,
You and I must fight for our rights,
You and I must fight to survive

Damn. with a royal capital "D"
Why was/has this word become something to be taken seriously? offensive?
Is it possible because it actually DOES something?
That to damn something, actually does that- "damn" it?
Because if it does, then I rightfully, righteously would damn the disease dubbed under the name of cancer.
I hate cancer because it has brought destruction to everything I see it touch.
I hope that cancer will become erradicated from society and not touch humanity. I was about to say innocent, but who knows who is innocent, we are all guilty of something or another, who can sift through and pinpoint what random cause and result domino affect was started by what sin.

I wish I could damn something, in fact I did, in writing. But I erased it.
Should I be doing something I am ignorant of.
Instead I counter curses with blessings.
I bless all those who are cursed, and I ask that the Lord G-d of Abraham, Moses, David and Jesus set free all those who are bound by the chains of sickness and meaningless of cancer. They have suffered, suffered, suffered.
I pray a blessings upon their soul and bodies that G-d may lavish on them healing and comfort.
I will this to come to pass in the name of Christ Jesus.

Const(ant)ellation

Yes, Pegasus. Myths remember your name,
-the kick in your hooves, and wind in your mane.
Your radiant wings, and silvery hide,
Your galloping soar with spectacular stride.
Myths remember your days of living and flying,
we immortalize you with our stars and our writing

NO!
NO!
NO!

I'm going through shock right now...a little bit of denial and a little bit of immense dissapointment in myself.
I worked for this grade, I worked hard. I did what was required, I tried my best.

God knows what He's doing, if He's doing anything at all.
I can't ...comprehend why!? I got this grade...I can't change it or anything...how..what...what

Oh songbird, songbird, will she love me? will she care? Fly so far for me, fly on air...

Hummingbird

floating with flitter
drink nectar sweet
from tubas and horns
from brass instruments pink

fast wings keep rhythm
with fast silent singing
performing with pulse
of theatrical dancing

feathers violently red
shimmer in flight
beneath colored shade
reflecting the light

a bearer of fire
of heaven's winged hues
deaf vision of lyre
heaven's meek Muse

oh the majestic feeling of creativity to surge once again through the soul.

Song by Allen Ginsberg

The weight of the world
is love.
Under the burden
of solitude,
under the burden
of dissatisfaction

the weight,
the weight we carry
is love.

Who can deny?
In dreams
it touches
the body,
in thought
constructs
a miracle,
in imagination
anguishes
till born
in human--
looks out of the heart
burning with purity--
for the burden of life
is love,

but we carry the weight
wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
at last,
must rest in the arms
of love.

No rest
without love,
no sleep
without dreams
of love--
be mad or chill
obsessed with angels
or machines,
the final wish
is love
--cannot be bitter,
cannot deny,
cannot withhold
if denied:

the weight is too heavy

--must give
for no return
as thought
is given
in solitude
in all the excellence
of its excess.

The warm bodies
shine together
in the darkness,
the hand moves
to the center
of the flesh,
the skin trembles
in happiness
and the soul comes
joyful to the eye--

yes, yes,
that's what
I wanted,
I always wanted,
I always wanted,
to return
to the body
where I was born.

i want to create beauty. i selfishly think i can confine it and claim it for myself.
but of course, i can't and fail. beauty is intelligent, it'll love on it's own accord.

The Tyger by William Blake

taken from the book Innocence and Experience
The Tyger

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright,
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

I won't be posting my poems anymore. If you'd like to still read them, send me a quick email to:

stonedpenguins@gmail.com

requesting to read them, or comment here and give your email address.

i'll periodically post a poem..and then take it off when write a new one.

I want to write books.

The Waking by Theodore Roethke

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

Tacit Sorrow

Wake up at dawn.
Do not drift.
Scratch the yawn,
and drink the mist.

Don't knock on water,
or spit on stone.
They baptize water,
you'll fall on stone.

Lie down in riverbed,
on mud below.
The brown leaves mingle,
with grey minnow

Trickling brook,
green fern and wet lily.
Tickling brook.
Dragon fly lazy.

Burning air,
reflecting sol.
Murky glare,
untill nightfall.

Distant quiet.
Chirping frog.
Croacking cricket.
Silent fog.

Lichen red rock.
lays beside green reeds.
Your chewing stalk,
while tending weeds.

Soundless lament.
Raised up to dark sky.
Muffled whispers,
whistle why.

Athena

mossy hair
empty eyes
empty stare
marble thighs

naked tenure
stand up straighted
hidden figure
status faded

a white toga worn
across ancient chest
agora forlorn
by time and conquest

carved to guard
temple pagan
not unscarred
quiescent maiden

Anonymous

As for the sun, its brightly lit.
Proudly beaming as would befit.
It rules eight planets with might gaze,
and creates time with months and days.

Flint (For the Unemployed and Underpaid) by Sufjan Stevens

It's the same outside
Driving to the riverside
I pretend to cry
Even if I cried alone

I forgot the start
Use my hands to use my heart
Even if I died alone
Even if I died alone

Since the first of June
Lost my job
And lost my room
I pretend to try
Even if I tried alone

I forgot the part
Use my hands to use my heart
Even if I died alone
Even if I died alone
Even if I died alone
Even if I died alone
Even if I died

We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to.
- W. Somerset Maugham

Ladies are the best inventions since willow trees.

Love Poem 0.1

Let me paint you a picture.
Let me paint your sky.

We can be innocent.
We can by shy.

We live like the wheat stalks.
Ripe green-then dry.

We can live simple.
Untill the goodbye.

We can live richly.
Untill we die.

I'm not afraid.
I don't really care.

If we're there for each other.
We can live off the air.

If we're there for each other.
We can live anywhere.

You are my love,
my darling affair.

You are my love,
my constant prayer.

Very impressed with the capable and stylish manner in which you dealt with that situation.

I apologize from the beginning,
for this poem's rather unbefitting

Head tilted in shrugging.
Eyebrows in question.
Your character sparkling,
not lacking gumption.

Your dresses all are fancy black.
You know they sing, paint it black.
(Put one on and-)
Dance! To timeless melodies,
oldies music with "Love you France!"

Captivating poise and laugh,
Thought full, amused, an intense paraph.

Norma Jeane awe and Siciliy.
You'll visit the latter with bold reverie.

Oh blue eyed, blonde, Miss american pie,
You're a charming lady, take care, goodbye.

Exhale

These are the old days-
the drumming days,
soaked with fear.

Photographic white curtains,
outline dark clothed villains,
who's intentions are clear.

Legions of shadows-
descend between marrows,
brightening the mornings each year.

But not today,
not so anymore.

For the glory of smoke-
like a sickening joke,
is realization of life so dear.

Little Church by Donovan

If you want your dream to be,
take your time go slowly.
Do few things but do them well,
heartfelt work grows purely.
If you want to live life free,
take your time go slowly.
Do few things but do them well,
heartfelt work grows purely.

Day by day,
stone by stone,
build your secret slowly.
Day by day,
you'll grow too,
you'll know heavens glory.

On shore

Stark beauty clashes with ocean serene,
a young girl cries while waters careen.
Her kness to her chin wrinkling her dress,
she sits ankle-deep in sands, a mess.

Oh twisted world! Colors bright.
Red green yellow distorted sight.

Thinking, crowds this silk covered soul,
Sobbing quietly while droplets unroll,

Don't cry for me-
tears glisten and shine.
Your face is soft,
a freckled sunshine.

Black mascara,
red tipped lips,
innocent eyes,
search lonely ships.

Pretty. Wild. Raven hair!
-or perhaps its golden fair?

Seagulls mumble on white crest,
dont bother her, let her rest.
Salty spray and coming night,
gaze upon peach ripe moonlight.

A bark strewn beach,
white waves crash on.
An old letter leash,
a sad lover yawns.

Sink. Close your eyes,
the tide's pulling out.
Dreams are allies,
forever devout.

Glass bells will ring in ballroom walls!
Pianos playing outside coral halls.
The orchestra booms,
the notes drift and wait.
Bridegroom-you'd have been,
and I your first mate.

Silently Abandoned

I laugh
I cry
I scramble and sigh

This whole past year
darkness did rear
its overwhelming presence
right into my essence

feeding off my own soul
not knowing the toll
not knowing how I'd survive
or where I'd arrive

The darkness surrounds, below and above
I mumble and search, but I can't find the love

-Written May 28 2005

Always something.

Nuances are always
everything or nothing.

You should look for them always,
don't be aiming at nothing.

A head nod sideways,
a voice tone failing.

A glance upraised,
a silent chuckling.

Flatter and flirt,
grinning and blushing.

Sinfull in the eyes of our Lord.

God bless the kittens, dying of disease.
God bless all children, crying with please.

We all are tired, ready to stop.
Some of us don't know yet,
still on the rooftop.

God bless the broken down, old man.
God rest his mind from crusty bedpan.

How we grow old, painfully aware
our young vigor bodies, loose their flair.

God bless the poor, the hungry, confused.
The oppressed, depressed, angry, abused.

Bless us all-for we all are small.

To the idea of my Grandad

I have no power over your soul or how it rests, I wish we could have met, I wish you could have commanded my awe and respect. You are gone. A victim of disease. It is foolish to say I revere a ghost that exists no more. But I do, and I appreciate all you have done for me and my family. With a heavy heart I have to acknowledge that I probably will never meet you.

1. Never tell everything at once.
- Ken Venturi

Ode to misty Autumn Groundhog

anything but mundane
simplicity at its finest

gliding and soaring on this feeling
desperately keep this going

come up from my hole
the music was true!
the sun is here!
my shadows gone!
my love is near.

Nurturing Hands

Voluntary caretaker
guarding my condition
the stakes would grow higher
with health falling in fashion

You punctured and poked
apologizing in smiles
I anxiously joked
forgiving with styles

I appreciated the subtle love
(so obvious at times)
I owe a great deal to your gentleness
(indeed I was spoiled)
I am indebted to such polite manner
(and I know)
With a little help from above
(I'm sure)
If you'll forgive my bluntess
(but)
You defeated my cancer.

Roundabout

caught between middle ground
unexpected, unprepared

captured and spellbound
taunted and scared

by subjects and object I cannot unveil
I am not ready to explain my tale

yet here I am, ranting away
hoping somehow I'm making headway

Eauty.

Radiohead's song, Creep contains the lines "your skin makes me cry." I always feel weak when I hear those words.

I love taking in beauty. I love being able to capture it and holding it captive. Whether that be in the form of words, of song or feelings, it matters not. I love being able to hold it, suspended in the air and observe the tenacious strenth glowing from within it. The curious rich culture behind every note and word is delicious. To breath in the rhythm of triumph as it breaks the fragile silence and emptiness. To feel, to experience an emotion conquer void apathy is an ever constant encouragement to my spirit. To feel passion, is like a surging inverted waterfall, a waterfall of fervor, fervor of ferocious satisfaction. The satisfaction of finally taking sight of your desire. The releasing of beauty has an effect on everything around it. Real beauty, when released, is like throwing sunflower seed into a world composed entirely of newspapers folded into origami shapes. If its a true sunflower seed, it will burn down everything around it, and then grow. Grow into beauty, brightening everything. Enlightening and glowing.

First day of being an adult. Took long enough.

Let me take a whack at it.
You ever have a feeling? and it touches something in you and you are suddenly.. like struck by lightening (so to speak) and you wish so badly to capture that feeling, put it in a cage, to look at it later? Or maybe you want to conjure up a feeling, you are successful and you suddenly feel the need to say something to somebody about how you feel and about that certain thing.

I feel a bit of both.

I'm eighteen. Yeesh, sounds unreal. I suppose I could feel glad? or something.
actually. screw it. I'm going to write to myself now. tread softly with your comments, excuse my words for they do not care about you.

I was just going over this blog and I wrote some pretty darn good posts when I was in physical pain/emotional struggle/loneliness. I tried to write my heart out, in a lot of places. I was not in good shape was I? I was probably depressed, clinically, I'm not sure, I don't want to find out. But then again, I might have not been.

Ok. So my writings were born out of struggle with God over pain and His connection to it all. Now, I don't have the pain, and therefore should keep my little trap shut. Complaining outright sounds lame, but if you make a plea, if its polite and if the peanut gallery can relate to it, then its applauded and is upheld as pure gold. Cloth your hate with empathy and crafty accusations.

Right now I wish, I wish, I wish. That's about all I do. I wish and pray about my wishes.
and I wait.
I'm going to a community college next year. I didn't know I was going to it untill ..december. Normaly people start planning their college two years in advance. That is what I hate. I like planning my life, I like knowing which direction will lead this to that to this to that. Everybody likes that. To have security?
Right now, I feel a great absence of security. Of selfish security that is. Security that I can plan my own plans and they'll take me somwhere, instead (and I can say this with confidence) I have security that God's going to take me where He wants me to go. He's got some great plan for my life yes yes yes..
It involves the occasional move here, move there, cancer, oops surgery mistake, oops 4 months of something hell for you, oh look! american school, culture shock and this that and the other thing.
I lived it. It's done. It's not the end of it..haha no..bloody hell no. That what scares me, thats what forces me into the wings of God. I feel trapped, fooled almost into putting my trust in God. If I don't I know its going to be worse, and if I do, well it still will be bad, but I'll have some extra emotional support. Why do I hate this? Because I can't change these things or control the bad things that happen to me, I'm forced to deal with them strongly because I know thats the best hope for me to face..another struggle. I'm not responsible for the crap that happens to me, or I feel like I'm being punished because I live in a sinful world, but then, hey, wait, everyone around me isn't being punished like this, or if they are, their doing worse than me...what the fuck?

Before the osteo happened to me. I could look at people breakdance and think its cool. Now the main thought that goes through my mind, even if its slowly dulling away, is..."I will never be able to do that." I might have never tried to breakdance before I had osteo, but the thought and confidence that I would be able to breakdance a little if I just learned, was there. Now, I cannot even think it, it is impossible for me to attempt the windmill. Someone might say, well, so what, it's just breakdancing. Yeah, it is just breakdancing, and its about all the things which force me to look even more physically different. The general underlying myth in everyones mind is, "the more different you are from someone, the less desirable you are". At the least, at first sight. This makes meeting new people pretty hard, since the first thing they see is the person, theyve got yet to know you you.
I'm not looking for pity in the shape of "aw" , I'm looking for it in the shape of "ah".

Before I started school in october.. Number two and three inflicted me ever since chemo started in december 2003. The whole time, untill march 2006 ive been feeling number 1
1)Stupid God, why pick on me? Again? Ok, sorry, but I'm just.. lost.

2)I can get through this. Actually, I don't really care if I get through this. I think I'll just concentrate on watching the next simpsons episode.
to..
3)I feel good. Its all good. It's ok if things are bad, it definitely could be worse. hm..that just happened. well, I know for a fact, that this pain will eventually stop. That I will be able to sleep. With sleep comes relief.

Now, I'm just.. living..trying not to think..too much. Except now You know what God? I'm going to try and control a lot of things in my life. I want you to intervene as much as possible. But pleeaasse.. keep crap from hitting me. Some rest please? Can this be my "sleep and relief period"?
I'm not totally reeling from shock from hitting that life changing glacier..but the effects are still huge, visible, and bleeding.

I'm returning to a semi-normal state. As much as is possible for a person like me. In a lot of ways I have...and I actually don't need comfort.
I'm trying to document what I'm going through, subconsiously a lot.

From another viewpoint, I've found my journey so far.. fascinating. I have a total unique fucked up life that not many people can claim to have led. In a lot of ways it actually wasn't that fucked up, in some ways.. its dead on. I am using that word just to drive home the fact that there was enough shit to deserve the title. But, I also led a life. I'm comfortable and proud of that. I've led a life that deserves the title "Life". It's got all the elements to make a great story because its unbelievable in so many ways.
So.. I like my unique and screwed up life. I like being me. I've learned a lot.. and I'm not dead so I have more things to accomplish and see and influence..hopefully my purpose.
and sometimes, I honestly like being in the shade of the tree. Under the protection of the master of the universe. My purpose..to praise Him in everything I do..to be glad and satisfied.

On that note. Congratulations. You've withstood a personal therapy session.

hava nagila hava...venis mecha
hava neranena..

Teen and Eight

The mingling of sounds or words in any form or contortion can not express this spirit in full.
Upon this birthday morn, I do know that I have come pretty far and I hope I will go farther.
I recognize a part of myself, I can recognize sources of ideas and feelings from within myself.
I am still afraid of pain and its effects.
I am not afraid of death.
I know my limitations and capabilities but I do not know how far I should push them.

I go over certain events which have wrecked hell on me and my being and I will say "If that hadn't happened, I could have taken over the world by now" ..but then I will second guess myself and pose my stronger feeling "If that handn't happened I would have been pretty pathetic compared to now"

Now, how far do I push? how much do I wish?

Do I push for God, do I wish for heaven? Lasting wisdom, guidance and fellowship?
Do I push for riches? No, a convenience for sure, I've been pampered most of my life. If I could only get rid of those shackles, I would feel so much more free'er.
Do I wish for fame? pffff
Friendships? For sure, this is a bonus that I believe will come with guidance from the Father.
Power? Yes. I do wish for power. Spiritual power. Power of self-control and alertness.
Love? I cannot live without it. I yearn for it, as it says in psalms: As the deer pants for water. (even if its an analogy for yearning for God)

I'm begining to like this damned journey of purpose, it can be very refreshing and, sometimes, suprising.

The Ever Superior Beatles

Here is one example:

Californian Girls by The Beach Boys
(the first two verses)

Well East coast girls are hip
I really dig those styles they wear
And the Southern girls with the way they talk
They knock me out when I'm down there

The Mid-West farmer's daughters really make you feel alright
And the Northern girls with the way they kiss
They keep their boyfriends warm at night

Back in the USA by Chuck Berry

Oh well, oh well, I feel so good today,
We touched ground on an international runway
Jet propelled back home, from over the seas to the u. s. a.

The Beatles took these two songs and said "pff.. we can improve on this, lets give them some (their British so they have that witty gland that most americans lack) competition and they came up with

Back in the U.S.S.R

Flew in from Miami Beach BOAC
Didn't get to bed last night
Oh, the way the paper bag was on my knee
Man, I had a dreadful flight
I'm back in the USSR
You don't know how lucky you are, boy
Back in the USSR, yeah

Been away so long I hardly knew the place
Gee, it's good to be back home
Leave it till tomorrow to unpack my case
Honey disconnect the phone
I'm back in the USSR
You don't know how lucky you are, boy
Back in the US
Back in the US
Back in the USSR

Well the Ukraine girls really knock me out
They leave the west behind
And Moscow girls make me sing and shout
They Georgia's always on my my my my my my my my my mind

Oh, show me round your snow peaked
mountain way down south
Take me to you daddy's farm
Let me hear you balalaika's ringing out
Come and keep your comrade warm
I'm back in the USSR
Hey, You don't know how lucky you are, boy
Back in the USSR
Oh, let me tell you honey

------
Haha. Do you know what a Balalaika is?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Balaika%2C_Nordisk_familjebok.png

Phantasy lessons

Elaborate an intricate explanation of your dreams,
write them down on parchment clean:

-Read them over,
weave them over,
onto fabric.
Around your shoulder.

-Scarf and shawl,
theyll keep you warm.
On stormy nights,
don't let them tear.

Yes, they hurt, they go to far.
Mend them, kiss them,
don't just not care.

Hopes and wishes,
Daze and fancy.
The day will come when you will share.

Grinning all the way

If it were simpler
I'd be too bored to bother

If it were harder
I'd stand up and quit

Give me your best
I'll match you and raise you

Your smile makes me smile
I'm probably not going to win here

I'm going down
Grinning all the way

swans in ponds

elephant man just wants to live
he just wants to live in his own capacity

tell me, oh electronic servant
where can i find my next ordeal?
the next amusement ?
the next excitement?

swans in concrete man made ponds
piano keys- notes that fade
the waters green- the air is stuffy
a silent breeze that takes the edge away

..enough with sentimentality
dream me a reality
set me free from these chains
id like to walk round a corner
without hearing my own requiem
played by my own, very own
mind tune orchestra

rain
on this brigade
under this sky
too many words that rhyme with sky
fly, try, my, sigh, die, nigh

night
it snows
its black
and i listen to a piece of track
thats raw
it leaves an impression
of dry whole grain bread
thats fallen in dirt
but your too hungry to care

back to my symphony
you didn't think i was crazy
untill you listened to these stringed words
rose gardens and salvation from land tied together at the bottom
of those concrete ponds made by men

men who invented those bright shiny lights
which command and entertain
brodcasted by signals from stations
connecting most of us while stuffing others
into boxes

like the guy who cleans the ponds
who feeds the swans
like the guy who feels for
the elephant man

its gone around
this is your thrill

world events 2006 and beyond -minus famines and disasters

goto

here to read what i wrote

lamentations

rag doll rag doll why do you lie in that corner?
torn and old you were once something

you can not know me fully
how can you since even i am at loss
of why I'm here?

swallows possess the power to fly away
but what if his wings were crushed and beaten
he'd be stuck limping across ground
slowly dying untill hes eaten
by crows

for sake of mercy, why do beggers moan?
i dont dare tie this mess of words together
nor form or flowing, strewn they are flung

enough to try but not to finish
im not apart of what you see

exclamation of blooming

some verses of songs -praises to God

"you have caused flowers to grow in my fields and you have brought new and bright colors to my head"

"..and i rest here underneath your hands"

"you made all my deserts fill with gardens...you made all my deserts with gardens
you made all my ashes turn to beauty... you made all my ashes turn to beauty"

hebrews 11:1
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for, and certain of what we do not see.

i ask, humbly and unashamedly, for your blessings

and yet

glorious laughing
hallelujah, hossana, hossana to the highest.

same old same old

whats the use of restating old problems? the grandeur of reviewing continuing, pressing pain? nothing, it seems that only person who doesn't get tired of it is God. Ive worn myself out ..again..and again with the same old same old.. ill stop telling people whats going on..because really.. who gives a after hearing the same story the 7'th time? how unique does the problem sound? not very unique.. in fact, it begins to look very sad and pathetic. Do i want to look sad and pathetic? haha..rhetorical dumb question
..it reminds me of that thing i learned somewhere, cant remember, school sometime. in the bible about the old lady who pestered the King with pleas..and finally the King answered her just to get her off his back.
yeah.. so taking that strategy with God, although it seems very impersonal often. Like talking to a stone door which follows me around.
Its unbelievably terrifying, life right now. It actually takes a lot different emotional straining than just being a patient trying to keep sane. When I'm sick, all I had to do, was keep a certain state of mind, occupy the immediate attentative mind.. and tolerate physical circumstances. Three things to do..and they become a habit. As for now..everything is interrelated to everything else. or so it seems. i dont really get a break to stand apart and think.. always sometime to do do do.
Always have to pick up the pace, improve improve improve.
I feel like.. for a lack of a better word, crap when going through the college match book...looking through all the things that is required of people, and i coincidentally was thrusted into the cancer world smack dab in the middle of my high school years. So as a result ..i suck in a lot of areas. My math is horrible, i never understood it correctly because i never got real proper foundation. My english grammar is horrible because i didnt..really..get tested on it..understand..or applied it when i learned it. My after school programs/clubs suck..because I didnt have oppurtunities. the list goes on..its much more easier complaining about generalities, that way my problems look worse than they might be. No, ha..thats not entirely true. theres just a lot more of problems I'm ashamed to talk about.
Then there are dilema's which relate to, or are a product of me going to school.. which are dilema's not problems... but take up a lot of thinking compacity, easier subjects to dwell upon.
No matter how hard I try-it doesnt add up. But its a sin to give up, so too bad.
there are a lot of endless circle of dooms, id write them all down in some desperate hopes that maybe theyll dissipate and float freely..but in vain.

blah blah ...bitter angst... blah blah blah.. i guess thats what im trying to say.. that..that would be the main thing to take away from this post.

yet.. in a bizzare freakish series events ive been blessed in ways that kinda snuck up on me. if your really curious.. email me..

right now would be a good time to end with a quote:

Perez: An old ass knows more than a young colt.

so all you old asses, please lend me your wisdom! :D

...hey at least i can write..or type. whatever.