the holiday and its cheer

dkfjwkrisfikjdwlpz.

^^ that shows my frustration because i had a blog all written up and then tried to insert two links..and pretty much the whole thing got deleted. anyways, i'll continue on with my head in my hands as i was before..

i did not realize how tired i was.
and not because i've been basically running around with my head chopped off and my organs spilling out for the past five days but because i have lead myself up to this break without actually, ironically, taking a break. so i have made the executive decision that i will either be spending the last 13 days of my break with only myself, and not because i'm going to end up being an old lady living in a box, but because i never spend *any* time with just me, myself, and i. that or with the people that i really need to see more; as i come to think of it, i haven't seen my best friend in over four days nor talked to her. that calls for some drastic measures of time going to be better well spent.

and now, before i wish you all the most fantastic holidays (Christmas is onlyyyyy FIVE, count them: FIVE, days away..and Hanukkah is already completely wonderful), i must recommend everyone to mr. chad. sugg. whom is the official cheer for the new year along with a god to the music industry. treat yourselves to good hours with his music blasting. i guarantee that it will make you smile. trust me on that:

http://www.purevolume.com/backseatgoodbye
http://www.myspace.com/backseatgoodbye

cheers,
shayna.

11:42..

..it's elevenfortytwo.

something has compelled me to pour myself out again in a text box for all to judge at.
my english book sits unread in front of me

pages waiting to be discovered, plots waiting to be unfolded.
words ready to be comprehended, words set to be put to action.
discolored sheets giving clue to aged use, to secrets held and fantasies portrayed.

i wonder if i'll ever make it like that,
ever make a child giggle at rhyming sentences compounding into a silly story,
soothe a worried mother on how to connect with her slipping daughter,
create a relationship between the unbeliever and the imagination left so long in the dust,
tear a teenage apart in the harsh realities of a story that connects all too much with her heart,
allow youth to be let into a soul of a broken old man for the days he missed in the army.

i wonder if i can make that difference..

or i'll just work along the side of my own fiction

music

music seems to be my saving grace these days.
the rhythmic tune lures, the lyrics confess, the instruments promise.
is it a fault to be captivated? is it a fault to be saved? is it a fault to be freed?
and then as soon as it starts, as soon as my mind seems to relieve itself and ease the frustrations, a skip in the song will occur. and for that single moment, i switch back to reality and realize that everything is beginning to be lost. then, the music will blare again and i'll tumble into a false security that i can hold to my heart for two minutes and fifteen seconds, three minutes, four minutes and a half. however long the sounds touch my ears for, i'm gone.

my eyes close,
my body sways,
my soul is opened and skinned
to the bare nakedness
to which everyone should reach with something in their lives.

and i can't help but wonder.
if the place i have made for myself in this world is only safe for however long the song plays..why don't i just press repeat on my player, turn up the volume, and fly on through?

words swallowed.

charles bukowski once wrote that there will always be something to ruin our lives, it just depends on who or what finds us first.

last night time stopped for a moment when i had a misconception about words that someone said to me.
i overreacted, i jumped to conclusions, i made an unjust confrontation because i was scared of what those words meant to me, if they meant anything at all, if they meant everything. i thought for awhile that i was right, that she was wrong, and that eventually i would get my way. but after more pain was pitched to one another, i realized that my pride and i, myself and i, were going to have to suck it up and take it down the right way. so then i thought that since i did that, things weren't going to be so bad anymore. but that opened me to something more.

for as much as i had hoped i could blame what had happened, what had been happening, on something and someone innocent, i couldn't. it wasn't fair and it's still not.

i have apologizes to make, i have words to swallow and i have to realize that i've got to get things under control and i've got to myself down the right path.

otherwise; i'm not sure where or why or when or what is going to fly because right now, my wings are breaking.

moore road,

its ironic that a contest for expression and artistic independence is limited to a theme. that when creativity should be at a high, it's restricted because of the fear of what lies beneath a sentence of what "one's favorite place is"
on what happens if a favorite place isn't just a room where happiness is stored but an entire world of possibility? what happens when a favorite place includes more than the boundary of four walls but expands to an exceptional amount of what is beyond that. GUCI is that place for me. and it's not easy to say to someone who hasn't been there that this place, this home, is the *only place that makes me feel alive. i can walk these streets at home here, i can breath this air here, i can talk to the people here, but without my place for me, my place just for me, i wouldn't get up in the morning and i wouldn't take steps on the sidewalk. so when tears spring my eyes, when pain fills my heart, i know that i can look through the lens of my camera and see the magic there; frozen for a second in time on how happy i was, how happy we all were. the reason that i urn for something more is that i know that as soon as the car turns onto Moore Road, i leave who i've been and i become who i want to be. for more than half of the year, i try to fit back into myself but it seems that each time i get comfortable, pieces chip or break off. after awhile its exhausting to try to glue everything into one when i know that it won't perfectly feel right until i touch my fingers to the wooden door proclaiming hallelujah, my feet running along the greener grass. and all to soon, its gone. the grounds have muddied, the smiles have cracked, the reality takes over and wins. when i'm home, in my favorite place, i know that i can trust myself to just be without worrying about who i'm being, just act without worrying of how i'm acting, and just live for the sake of the goddamn sunshine that captivates every single memory and makes it beautiful for that much longer.

so if it seems like i'm moving but i'm still stuck, its because i can't keep going without knowing where i'll end up. if i'll end up. or if i'll give up.

and so take this breath with me, hold my hands tight and sing to me tonight.
make me believe and make me see that once my eyes are opened to my favorite place again, colors fly and dreams are born to this run down world that i keep locked away from my heart, for i fear with the utmost confidence that once i let in something more than the best, something more than what i've found, i'll forget and i'll walk on, without destination, without a turn onto Moore Rd. so just let me be with me tonight and find a light too bright , a fantasy too full, a heart all too ready.