HST

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Starting my research towards Hunter S. Thompson. I feel like I needed an idol.. a saint to pray for in a sense. Writing and journalism seem like a future, and he seems like a pretty good model for what I'm aiming for..

He shook the grounds of political journalism, adding fiction that interlaced with the facts. I think that's why he's so gripping.. he takes life as seen by the public and makes it personal in his writing. The random thoughts we keep to ourselves and deem unimportant mean the world to his journalistic style. He gives his strange thoughts a dignified place in his writing.

That's exactly what I want to do. I feel so awkward and weird on the inside sometimes.. and if I could give that a voice that would be wonderful. I want whatever I am writing about journalistic-ly and intertwine it with my inner monologue to make it special. Like HST.

It seems like that is the only way anyone should write.

Haunted Dreams

I dreamed about her last night, my mother. It had been awhile.. I've seen her before, with her beige blouses and flashes of blonde hair, wandering discreetly through my dreams. And I sensed her.

This time, last night, it was largely different. She was alive again, like her death never occurred. Before she was a phantasm, who never spoke or was truly present. Last night she existed, she owned our home again, she didn't haunt it.

It was horrible, though. In vain, I tried to say, "Mother! You've been gone for so long.. Tell me about yourself, I don't know you like a daughter should.." But she acted awkward, like my questions annoyed her. She just busied herself with the laundry and refused to converse with me. It was torture.

I prefer her as a ghost.

Warring With My Mind.

Worry is the fear of the uncertain.

Anxiety shields truth like a curtain.

Fogs my mind, blurs my vision.

Can't make my way, make a decision.

Slow it down, put it on pause-

I can't correct my mind's own flaws.

Like wanting to run with a broken leg,

My mind won't budge, though I beg.

Worries, worries, I cannot stop.

Deeper, deeper, I slowly drop.

"For an Aunt"

I would say I was lonely,

Those days I spent alone.

And they say that for lonely

there is no cure known.

And they say that for the lonely,

no sum of people can comfort

But in my times of sadness,

You were my sole support.

They say that life doesn't fit the boundaries,

that we must think outside the box,

I would say I was trapped inside,

Living life by schedules and clocks.

I was in a box but out of the circle,

or maybe I was in a circle but out of the box-

or maybe we're all just in this giant triangle

within a pyramid, on top of a hill.

Whatever shape they put it in,

They'll never be fulfilled.

They say there's a pill for everything,

that science holds the cure.

But I'd say you've been everything,

that without you,

I could not have endured.

Nature

Saturday afternoon, and the sun was high in the sky. The air was cool, but the sun sat kindly on her skin. Every leaf of every tall, strong tree was orange or yellow. It was Autumn, her favorite season.

Months had gone by since Brianna last visited the lake. The park seemed foreign, like it had grown larger and even more beautiful in her absence. With every step of her steady jog, she reunited with her old friend. An exuberant smile spread across her face, she was enchanted by the charm of the fall leaves and the fragrant lake waters.

As she ran, her mind wandered. How could she have gone so long without this? Why spend every day in the gym, when this track beckoned from outdoors? She understood what she had been missing, and realized that there were many healing agents in her life- that she just had to reunite herself with them.

It was Autumn, and Brianna spent the afternoon with her old friend, nature.

The List

As I walked back from the gym- strolling along the sidewalk next to a busy street- I could've sworn I whiffed a scent of fresh apples and spice for just a split second. My sensations went WILD: my eyelids lifted, my lips parted and my head seemed to turn slightly in the direction of where I thought it could be coming from.

But just as swiftly as the aroma surfaced, it faded. And now I was unfortunately smelling the gunky air birthed by the handfuls of cars passing me by on the road. I thought: what is it about that smell that makes me so... happy? Autumn. The months when the air chills and the leaves turn are nigh- and nothing excites me more at this time (maybe except for losing a few pounds... but that is an entirely different matter!). In a blink of an eye, women will be sporting their stylish fall jackets, my seasonal pumpkin spice coffee creamer will FINALLY be on the shelves of king soopers, I'll be slipping on layers, the leaves will coat the yard (I LOVE this- why would anyone rake?!) and scarves will replace sunglasses. It is the end of my least favorite season- summer.

So why wouldn't my heart flutter at the slight essence of apple cider spice in the air? And for all I know it could've been a dangling car freshener in a car next to me- that sped by in an instant- but it made me happy.

Then I thought: very few things do that. So that moment was special. And it's about time I start recognizing these enlightening moments, smells, sounds, and objects that make me happy. So here we go:

1.) AUTUMN (the smell of apple cider, pumpkin spice, cinnamon)

Lyrics: Who Are We Pleasing?

If it hurts,

Why would you try to save me?

When I cry,

Wouldn't you like to save me?

Look away

Isn't it just that easy?

In the end,

Isn't you we're pleasing?

Face to face,

But I feel so alone.

You'll just never know

What its like to be me.

Cast me away

Doesn't it make enough sense?

I'll hurt forever,

Hope that sits on your conscience.

I walk away,

As you click off the lights.

It's so dark now,

This is our last night.

You'll be okay,

For me it's not that easy.

After all,

Isn't it you we're pleasing?

9-13-11

Brianna opens her eyes- turns over in bed to peer at the alarm clock. 5:38am, on a Tuesday. Immediately, she realizes she has slept in 38 minutes and her neck feels cold and her skin tingles. Throwing her legs over the side of her bed, she feels an odd pain. Her head stings, and so does her throat. She sniffs hard, but her airflow is cumbered.

Oh, no. Not a cold- she thinks.

But oh, yess, it is. So she spends a moment to resist- No, I can still go to school. No big deal. But as soon as her feet plant on her hardwood, and her head flushes with blood from standing, a deep, painful migraine yelps at her. I'll be damned if you can, It smirks. Sniffling, she sits back down, picks up the phone, and fore-warns her ride that she'd be staying home today.

Whether she liked it or not.

Camping (assignment for AP Lang)

I'm not a summer girl at all, but one thing I do enjoy about summer is camping. This year I had the treat of travelling to Pennsylvania to go camping with my brother and his wife. I flew into Ohio on Friday, August 12, and we drove to Pennsylvania on Saturday. By Saturday afternoon we were navigating the winding backroads enroute to our campsite (which gave me some agonizing motion-sickness in the car).
Pennsylvania is moist and humid, and the woods are lush and green- a stark contrast to Colorado's dry air and pokey pines. The afternoon heat intensified the moisture, practically making the air a heavy blanket. During the day, one can walk to the stream near camp and find crayfish, bright orange salamanders, lime-green frogs, and bumpy-skinned toads. The Pennsylvania forest is a community of life- insects, birds, amphibiens, bears, deer- all living together, uninterrupted by the campers nearby. In fact, the only direct contact I made with these creatures was being bit by mosquitoes and holding a salamander caught by my neice, Ayvah.
But, we didn't stay at camp the whole day. We ventured to the lake, where we submerged ourselves in the icy, 70-degree water. I enjoyed the feeling of the hot air on my head mixed with the goose-bump enducing chill of the water around my torso. I also got goosebumps from the peircing loudness and shock of shooting a gun for the first time. Because after we went swimming we grabbed a few pistols and went into the woods to do some target practice. The sheer silence of the Pennsylvania wood seemed to intensify the
boom of the shots- and to be honest- I was terrified of shooting a gun. But, the adrenaline rush after the fire makes it way worth it. This, mixed with the adrenaline from riding the four-wheelers afterword, was intense. Navigating the woods with our ATV's was the ULTIMATE way to experience the Pennsylvania forest.
My favorite time was twilight (just before nighttime) when everything was winding down and the air begins to cool. Everyone gathers around the fire, and we just listen to eachother and the crickets, frogs and nighttime noises. After we ate dinner- deer meat and pasta salad- we loaded up into the back of the pickups and went "deer spotting" (a nighttime ritual for my brother's wife's family). When we returned the adults stayed up to have a few beers, I stayed up a little while to play boardgames in the camper with some other teenagers, and then I went to bed by 1:00 am.
The next day we awoke to a downpour of rain, so we were forced to make the drive back home. On the way back we stopped to get icecream, and that is in one of the pictures. It was dissapointing to leave so early, but the short time I did spend camping in Pennsylvania was invigorating.

This doesn't make sense to anyone but me... oh well

Sitting at the bus stop, I watched the cars cruise down Jewell. I saw the crew-neck working men in their pickups, the slick-bob middle aged women on their way to Walgreens, and I saw sleepy-eyed teens in slight danger of nodding off, haha. But after a few handfulls of vehicles had passed, I failed to see anybody singing, bopping, laughing, or even smiling. And here I was, reclined on a bus bench, BELTING out "Everybody Wang Chung Tonight" like I was in a limosine.

And it occured to me, where do you have to be in life to have the right to act shamelessly happy? Is it rude to be happier than someone richer, betterlooking or smarter than you? I'm done with waiting to be happy, waiting untill I'm X weight, I have X income or I have X degrees. If you don't want to sing, I'll do it for you.

March 26th

After finishing her chores, Brianna looked in the mirror, wiped the Comet soap of her cheek, and made a decision. Stingy split ends curled awkwardly at her collarbone, and the uneven texture of her hair reminded her of a shaggy dog. It was time for a hair cut; just in time for spring.
She walked in Fantastic Sam's with complete calm and confidence- ready to shed the tangled mess. A hairdresser by the name of Barbara approached her. Barbara was around 50, with a curvy build, and fluffy blonde hair. After sitting Brianna down, she said "Who has beeen cootting zur hair??" She uttered with a heavy Scandanavian accent as she examined Brianna's sloppy, brownish copper locks. Brianna, delited with her quaint, to-the-point, European-esque employee, wasn't offended. Infact, she shamelessly admitted she hadn't been in a salon in months.
Slowly Barbara explained the extent of measures which had to be taken for her damaged-do. A snip here, an evening-out there, and her hair would be almost shoulder-length! Brianna sank into her chair slightly, and her voice revealed hesitation (but on the inside: PANIC!), "I'd like to keep my hair... as long as possible. " Willing to compromise her drastic plans, Barbara accepted this notion.
With this new lump of caution in her throat, Brianna reclined in the sink as Barbara's hands massaged the conditioner out of her hair. All of the sudden, Brianna wished she'd never have come. Through the loud sink faucet, scrubbing, and European accent, Brianna thought she heard, "Zur hair iz so rough! Vee must take more off zan vee planned.". Brianna didn't fight it.
After a half an hour of snipping and small talk, Brianna peered once again into the mirror. Brown, healthy, shoulder-length, even-ended hair looked back at her. And even though hair is just an appendage, Brianna felt cleaner and more youthful than she had felt in a while. She was happy she came.

March 23rd

Brianna got ready for her second bike ride of the season- on the twinkling bright, shining, glorious day it was. Dabbing apricot-hued lipstick on, and applying a hint of peach bronzer to the apples of her cheeks, she smiled at herself, proud of how well she mimicked the summery-sweet day outside. Happiness seemed so far off with the winter weather, and her heart swelled with longing for the joy, bloom and soft heat of April.
Mounting her frosting-pink, spray-painted shwinn, she glided down the driveway, hopping off onto the street. Pumping her legs, she felt strong and free and fast- so wonderful after feeling weak and trapped and slow for the past few weeks. The heave and ho of air through her bosom awakened the feeling of humanity- the raw, welcomed pain in her lungs reminded her that she is such a human, such a living-being. And she was very alive.

March 22nd

The air is just sweet and bright enough to remind her of summer, but the wind brought the last cries of winter. As Brianna jogged down the concrete path, behind the suburban homes and their empty yards, she thought only of which direction to go. She encountered random pedestrians, faces of whom would be long forgotten, and barking dogs, the barks of whom she regarded with no alarm, but mostly she encountered the impact of her size ten jogging shoes on the path below. Jogging is simple for her, and she likes it that way.

March 18th (1)

Jason looks at her. She couldn't have the slightest idea how to solve things, and what to say- but she was certain of her indignance. Brianna felt cheated out of happiness, due to a frustrating series of events between the two. Jason was constantly wrong, and immature and irrational, but there was no choice but to forgive. Everyone else has a horizon of choices, and most people chose to marginalize the things that make them unhealthy. But as he grabbed her wrists, she knew. There is no way to marginalize this boy.