I have always had a problem with putting people (or things) into categories. I don't know that I'll ever be able to pick anything in the categorie list but "misc". I recently read an article written by a guy named Dan K. on this site about "The dissapearance of black and white". Although I find him to be extremely intelligent and very intriguing, the blog upset me for the most part. Why do people feel such a prominent need to put everything into a box? As for myself, I am a dev...
There is no actual theme to these quotes, just some stuff that has collected in my journals over the years. Enjoy!!! *Out of intense complexities, intense simplicities emerge. ---Winston Churchill *We find all the answers while listening to the static of the radio and the gentle hum of a car. *I wanted a perfect ending...Now I've learned the hard way that some poems don't rhyme and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, or end. Life is about not knowing, having to chan...
Ever read poetry and it's so beautiful that you twist it in any way you can to fit your circumstances, even though it has nothing to do with you? We read some very lovely poetry in English today, and I couldn't bring myself to just enjoy it; I had to make a connection somehow. Have you ever wandered why you love someone? Is is because of their beauty or because of their capacity to love you? I find myself running into that question all too often, and I don't want it to be the latter f...
No one has ever been able to tell me what color my eyes are. I have no idea what color they are; they change so often I can't keep up. I know many people who have this same trait, but I think with me it's different. At first I thought they changed with what I wore; that proved to be wrong. So, I came up with a theory that God blessed me with eyes that tell people how I'm feeling---since He didn't choose to bless me with the gift of communication. I've been keeping track of my f...
I came home a few hours early from school today. I threw myself on the couch and sobbed uncontrolably; there was no one left to watch---no one left to hender me from letting it go. I wished I could have fallen asleep, or at least just laid there in a daze with no thoughts to bring the facts back. But, unfortunately, those thoughts of mine never do stop. I picked myself up and slowly walked through every room in our apartment trying to decide what to do next. I'm not too good at...
After going to another AA meeting with my sister and her teacher friend tonight, we went for ice cream at the Marble Slab. Debbie had a friend who was going to be there that night and wanted to introduce me because me and this chick are around the same age. She's all like, "Oh, Trin, you'll love her, she's really spiritual." Yeah, like I'm spiritual...haha. Anywho, what I'm saying is, in the back of mind, without even realizing it, I was praying the girl wouldn't be there. I have in...
Alright, I never claimed to be a poet. I was just trying to write a counter-point article on Imajinit's psychology post, and everything that came out contradicted itself. (This doesn't mean you've won Michael.) Anywho, I promise I'll never write poetry again, but I dedicate this to anyone who's ever left a comment on my blog. Please don't be harsh, this is like the 2nd (and probably the last) poem I'll ever write. Take nothing I say as absolute truth About myself or my position I'm a...
It's Christmas morning; I'm in the 2nd grade. I jump out of bed and go sit near the tiny tree I got to help pick out not too long ago. My siblings, Kameron and Tancie, were on either side of me, and I'm waiting for that one special gift I'd been asking for all year. I pick up the first gift labeled "To: Trinitie, From: Santa". It was one of those hollow, cheap barbies we got every year from Dollar General. You know the ones with no hair and 3 colored wigs you can switch out. I hat...
I hate the world around me. I hate the blind people. I hate that no one understands the beauty the world posesses. So, I read. I read books about people who have lived in the ghetto, in the slums. Repeated phrases include, "I need to get out of here before I get stuck like everyone else". Whoa. I highlight. I feel, that maybe, somehow, I'll leave a trace of how I feel behind so that others may see the truth. I journal. Sometimes I feel that writing is secretly a defense of my l...
I've spoken many times of my obsession with the passenger seat of vehicles. I never really wanted to learn to drive because of my intense love of that seat. It was where I slept when I lived in the car with my mom, it's where the radio controller sits, it's where you don't have to worry about staying inside the lines, you only have to look at the night sky through the windshield, which I ultimately think makes the sky more beautiful. It's like, if you wanna reach out and touch it, you can, the g...
You will ask me to dance, and I will accept, only to push you away before the song is over. I will say I love a challenge, only to run when one arises. I use my past as a defense, as if I'm the only one who had it rough, as if that will somehow justify my present. My mind says that success is measured by obstacles overcome, which may be true, but how can I be sure if it was I who crossed the broken bridges? My heart is filled with a song, a bittersweet song, one of triumph and defeat, o...
When I disclose information about myself so nonchalantly to friends and even strangers, I often get confused and often ecclectic responses to my life experiences. For instance, when I tell people I lived in a vehicle for about a year and that I have, in fact, lived in a park, they look at me with not only pity, but bewilderment. Here's the deal. It's not that uncommon. So many people are sheltered from seeing that, yes, people do indeed live like that---even here in the great United S...
Do you ever just sleep when you're feeling down...just to escape the world? I slept far too long today. When I woke up, I only felt sick to my stomach. Sleeping as a remedy = not such a good idea. My problem? I can't love people. It's simply not in my power. I sat down to write a note of encouragement to my roomate, Kami, on her 24th birthday, and all that kept going through my head were all the things that aggravate me about the girl. I simply could not bring myself to write down...
I like the lake by my parents trailer. I like it mostly just after winter's over, and the boats began to reappear. I like to sit on the dock and make shapes with my toes in the water. I like that I can't even feel the cold air around me because my thoughts take me away from reality. I even like it when I snap back and feel that sudden shock. I like that point when the last boat disappears around the bend in the lake and I'm alone---that means I can sing at the top of my lungs. I li...
I walk into the "Glass House" tonight and here is what I observe: I see multiple people with shaking hands because of lack of nicotine in their system, trying to survive in a non-smoking environment. I smell coffee---very, very strong coffee. I hear those gut wrenching, hacking coughs that only come from years of substance abuse. I see furrowed brows and smirks of contentment. I guess that's what separates the old from the new. A man across from me in a leather jacke...