Laughing at her own little joke
Why should she tell it to you?
No one would get it
But her and her dead husband.
So they laugh together
Until the little men come
To take him away
To Neverland
And leave her to her lonesome
Laughing alone.
The joke is on you.
But don’t bother trying
You wouldn’t get it anyway
Might as well laugh along
Until the little men come
To take you away
To Neverland.
Summer grass
Never did no one no good.
It gave me rashes,
Itchy red bumps
On my skin.
I have to mow it,
Dry little pieces
In my eyes.
I had to lay in it,
Spiky green splinters
Against my legs.
But since the seasons have changed,
I’ve missed the feel
The smell
The color
Of that wonderful
Summer grass.
I’d hate to be
What I’m not
But I’ll always be
What I am
This feeling of rejection resounds, and I am left feeling nothing beside it—just what I have always felt; the feeling that I am not good enough. And what I can take from this is that I never will be.
I am only a simple, unextraordinary person reaching past his allowance.
There are going to be ugly things. Hard things. Stupid things. And smart things that make you feel stupid for not doing them. That make you wonder about the things you are doing. Are they worth it? Are they realistic? Will they work? Will I regret them?
There are going to be people who don’t care, people who care about things they shouldn’t care about, and people who only care about themselves. It’s going to be tough.
Look around. The Devil’s advocates surround you, taunt you, pull your hair and whisper in your ear, screw with your mind and drink your tears. The cold bites you. The loneliness chokes you. The world crushes you.
But you know what, if you love it, do it. If you believe in it, go through with it. It’s going to be hard. There will be people who will try to force doubt in between your lips, and there will be hands that will try to force it in. But whether you swallow or not. It is up to you.
If you believe, go through with it. For all that you are worth, fight for it. Stand strong. And stay standing.
I may run and trip and fall
Through life’s dark and narrow hall,
But I’ll get back up and smile
To run the rest of life’s short mile.
I’ll explore life’s countless stages
Life’s book with many pages
Too precious too be wasted
Too much that must be tasted.
I’ll write my own life story
Sure it might be corny
But I guess that you could say
That I like living my own way.
God bless the Mexicans…delicious Mexican sweet bread made at home (step by step instructions with photos in English and Spanish)
Honey, now skip along
Ice cream, cookies and cream
Drip a melting song,
Smear across summer dreams
Sunscreen and sunglasses on.
It runs in a sticky sweet stream;
Melt, lick, taste, gone.
Drainpipes stretch
And snap back.
Click. Walk.
With point toed
Black leather boots.
Smoke, jaded
An orange glow
And gray smoke,
Not caring,
From in between
Pale, parted lips.
Exquisitely unimpressed,
Lean back, bored
With the acceptance
Of one who listens to
Too much Cold War Kids.
How depressing.
The only warmth
In the comfort of pockets.
The only one,
Yet a whole street of them
Strolling into the night
Yellow lights
Concrete labyrinth
Drainpipes stretching
And snapping back.
Click. Walk.
Point toed
Leather boots.
When I was in Chinese school back in the day, we were learning about Mongolia and its people. The teacher was going on to describe what Mongolians generally looked like when I piped up that my dad was half Mongolian.
The teacher excitedly dragged me by the arm up to the front of the classroom and pointed out the features of my face.
“See, class? This is what a Mongolian looks like. Small eyes and round face! Now are we lucky to have a Mongolian student in this classroom!”
She looked pretty proud of herself when she sent me back to my seat so I didn’t bother telling her that it is actually my stepdad who is half Mongolian.
♥ 5 things I love about this scene ♥
1. The way Spock sidles up to the guards all, ‘sup?
2. The stupid expression on Guard #1’s face as he’s nerve pinched. DUUUURRRRR.
3. How effortlessly and nonchalantly Spock throws a full-sized man across a hallway.
4. Despite only being thrown to the ground, Guard #2 wisely plays dead.
5. Spock walks away like this is another day at the office, zero fucks given.
(via intotheairewaves)
It hadn’t been much of a good year for her. Her dog had died, her dad had suffered two strokes in a row, and she had to go shopping for new jeans without even growing taller. Just two sizes bigger.
So when it was approaching the new year, you’d probably think she was glad that 2011 was finally over. A new year meant a new start. But no, she knew that she wouldn’t feel any different. A new year simply meant that she had to write a different number on her assignment headings for the date. How bothersome.
And so it was that she spent her last few moments in year 2011 working out in her room on her yoga mat, wearing just a shirt and her underwear, listening to Labi Siffre’s “My Song” over and over again. It made her think of her boyfriend, far away and probably having tons of fun with his guy friends. The Men. Should she call him? Perhaps not. And what would she say anyway? “Remind your friends that you’re designated, and if they forget, I’m going to designate their asses.” Maybe not such a good idea. She didn’t feel like designating anyone’s ass at the moment, and especially not her boyfriend’s friends’.
She continued to do situps. Thirty-two. Thirty-three. And then she heard a low, buzzing noise at her desk.
When it’s a minute to midnight and you start hearing buzzing noises, it can get quite frightening. While, in this case, it was just her phone vibrating on her desk, but she felt her goosebumps rise and began to wish, frantically, that she wore some pants just in case an alien spaceship burst in through the wall. At the third buzz, she realized that it was her phone and she got up from her yoga mat, rummaged around her desk, and found her phone in the middle of a pile of Prisma colored pencils.
Before she picked up, she knew it was him. “Happy New Year,” she whispered. “Happy New Year. Can you hear the fireworks where you are?” Soon enough, a faraway sounds of booming and cracking went off. She smiled even though he couldn’t see her and told him she could. She heard him and his friends countdown through the phone and they talked a little more before saying goodnight, and she rolled up her yoga mat in much better spirits.
As she was walking to the kitchen to get some water, she heard a splatting sound somewhere near the door. The neighborhood mischief makers!
Disregarding her lack of pants, she launched into action and pulled out a few eggs from her fridge. Flinging her front door open, she caught sight of the culprits and took aim. Her first shot made home.
“Go to hell or I”ll designate your asses!” she screamed happily. She continued to launch eggs until all of the brats left running. Her adrenaline was flowing through her veins and she had pieces of eggshells hanging in wet strands in her hair from the egg that exploded near her head. She turned back and shut the door quietly.
It was going to be a good year.
