Westward

Man...

It is not cool when those turkey patties spit oil and ooze blood.
Westward

(no subject)

After awhile you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn that love doesn’t mean possession
and company doesn’t mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises
and you begin to accept your defeats with your head up
and your eyes ahead
with the grace of an adult not the grief of a child.

And you learn to build your roads today
because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans
and futures have ways of falling down in mid-flight.

After awhile you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much
so you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure
that you really are strong
and you really do have worth
and you learn and you learn…with every goodbye you learn.


--Virginia Shopstall, "Comes the Dawn"
Westward

This bothered me

Overheard earlier today, a Science lesson straight out of Dystopian science-fiction novel.

"What is the job of a flower?"
(murmuring)
"No, not to look pretty."
(more murmuring)
"No, not to smell good."
(an incessant line of mumbling)
"NO. The job of a flower IS TO MAKE SEEDS!"
Westward

(no subject)

I've moved back in with my mother, and so far, my main ways of coping have been Chinese take-out and nonstop NPR. The NPR doesn't bother her, but I think she's a little affronted by the Chinese, since she often stays up early just to slave over a hot stove for me and my dad.

Agh.. I'm so ungrateful!