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Oct. 2nd, 2013

At the cafe

Philosophers think
We may dream our reality.

With earphones attached liked IVs
I dream my own melodic universe.
Until someone laughs behind me
And strikes up conversation with a friend.
And in that moment they become my anchor
Are they spinning through my dream
Or am I spinning through theirs?

Sometimes life fits in a coffee cup,
Sometimes inspiration pours out slowly like a packet of honey,
And sometimes it all mixes together
Like liquid incandescence that I drink right after brewing.

The street outside the window
With passing strangers, dogs and cars
Is a whole new Milky Way
Waiting to be discovered.
But I am no space explorer
Aliens are beyond my reach.
Whispers of the people around
Reach my ears distinctly
Like waves lapping on the shore.

Words on paper go no way
Towards proving that I was ever here
My identity is slowly condensed
Not into the people who know me
But into nothing more significant than a spiral-ringed, Walmart notebook.

Strangers flutter around
Like pages in the wind.
My actions spread across my world
Like ink across lines.
I check a pulse
And it flutters weakly
Like a small camera shutter
Snapping open and closed beneath the skin of my wrist.
But I only show up as white mist
Glitches upon the film.

Coffee shop memoirs
Are the legacies
I shall write out
Fold up
And snail mail
Out to other people's dreams
Desperately reminding them
That I am still out there

A small planet, a pompous rose and one little prince.


May. 26th, 2013

My Feet Are Killing Me

Dear people who say they will show up for work and don't,

Why? Just why would you lie? If you are going to say that you will show up, show up. Seriously!
Do you even know how crazy-!
(I'm sure that's why you didn't show up.)

My feet are killing me. I had a late break, lunch, and I didn't have time to go to the bathroom! (Well, I did once, but still!)

My body (mainly my feet) is screaming in pain. I would form 2:30 till 11:00 pm today thanks to you!
(People these days...)

My feet = pain

Did I mention that?

Standing for more than nine hours can do that to you. It hurts. My feet twitch every now and again in pain. I can feel my pulse in them. If they could bruise from this, I am very sure that they would.

Being a cashier is loads of fun. Seriously. I love it.
Until people decided not to show up.
That's when I get frustrated.

I can deal with rude, cranky, and over-all unpleasant customers all day. But, to get a mad rush and there only being two other cashiers... NOT COOL.
Seriously, it was not cool. AT ALL.

I got through it though. With no thanks to you.
Well, actually, thanks. I got bonus points for being an awesome cashier.

-end rant-

Annoyances and Screaming Children

Dear Neighbor who keeps having his children screaming in the pool next door,

Please stop. You are driving me crazy. I can literally feel my head throbbing in pain as my body shudders in disgust at, not only the things your children are yelling, but what you are conversing about with your friends. Why would you say things like that with children near? Talking about sex and cursing freely in front of your children is just awesome (insert sarcasm here). You definitely need a gold medal for parenting and maybe a certificate for awesomeness for not giving your children a bed time. Disciplinary action is so over rated.

Most days, I would not mind this. I could over look it. Go on about my day, and I can be as happy as ever. But, having your eight-year-old drop the 'F'-bomb several times as he misses the basket while he is now playing basketball in my back yard, is where I draw the line. Actually, I drew it before then when his friends (That is who I like to assume they are) started playing basket ball twenty minutes before your son decided to jump the fence and play with them. Did you know that he actually jumped the fence? I can still hear the thump thump, smack smack, as the ball bounces all over everything, my house included.

And, to make matters more interesting, as if they weren't frustrating already, you start to play music. But, not just any music. You have to play blue grass... Of ALL of the things you could POSSIBLY play, you choose blue grass. And, even that, which I HATE with a PASSION, I would have much preferred to what you are playing now. This nonsense that you call 'playing the guitar' could not possibly mean what you imply. It is so monotone and does not flow at all. How your friends can cheer to ping ping ping bing bing ping ting ting tang is so far beyond me that I just cannot even! How can a guitar make such a wretched sound? It's almost as if you took a cat and an a dog and tossed them, starving, into a room filled with fresh meat. How you achieve this sound, I would love to know. It would be a nice alarm or something very great to piss of your very tired neighbor.

Some of us, as you know very well, have work and church to go to in the now approaching Sunday morning. I would much prefer to sleep than hear your incessant screams and laughter. If need be, I will walk outside and yell at you. I'm just that frustrated. Although, I know that it will not work. I have yelled at your child and his friends five times now; they kindly told me I was a horrid (female dog) who should mind her own (verb normally referred to as having sex. Most often begins with an 'F') business and go in to her (some word but now used as an adjective) house. I can also take my (vulgar term for going number two) and shove it up my (old name for a donkey).

Am I really out of line here for asking your child and his friends to be quieter? It's not like I told them to go die or to get off of my property before I call the cops (both options are very appealing at the moment). Heck, I didn't even yell at them. I was calm and nice about it. I even gave them water when they asked, and they still have the nerve to cuss me out. Eight through ten-year-olds! What do you teach these kinds?! And you call yourself a preacher...No one is perfect, but there are somethings you just don't do...

I remember the time I was loud with a friend in the back yard. You expressed your concern, and I never was loud again. I felt horrible.I still do. Even if you are being irrational as you tell me that you are not loud and the your guitar playing is not horrible, I am still being as kind to you as possible. I did not raise my voice as you yelled at me, nor did I use profane language as you so kindly did. And, yes, I will leave you alone so that you and your friends, can continue your party on this memorial weekend. I will not speak to your son or his friends again tonight as they continue to express themselves in vulgar ways in my backyard while they play basketball.

And, when I see you at work in a few hours, I will smile and speak as loudly as I can and laugh as your hung over mind tries to cope with the pain and disorientation it feels.


Your neighbor who would really love to be unconscious right now dreaming of odd things and NOT hearing you, your son, and now your dog who will not stop barking. I assume it is at your horrible guitar playing or maybe your epic win karaoke skills (insert sarcastic goodness here).

P.S. Please feel free to do what you're doing at 2:23 am some other time in the day. You know, at a normal hour. Or, be kind and considerate and not yell, scream, or anything related at such an early hour. Thank you, and have a very lovely night.

Who am I?

I'm completely insane, but incredibly caring. I'm a mix of every person I have ever met, thought I have ever encountered, opinion I have ever processed, and loves I have had the pleasure of experiencing. I'm an introspective extrovert that loves to live (while, consequently, being afraid of the very same thing). I have a very hard time censoring myself. You have been warned.

I love people more than most everything else (aside from anime), and I would do anything for anyone as long as it was within reason. I'm just that kind of person.

Some people say that being an introspective extrovert is something bad or a lot of trouble. Well, I don't think so.

Being introspective means that I am more in touch with my own special brand of crazy than most people are with theirs. Knowing what I know about myself, the extrovert in me then wants to talk about it with others. And thus I appear more crazy than the average person who, by the way, is also crazy.

Sep. 14th, 2011

You've been on my mind copious amounts lately...

Quite frankly, you're heavy. Get OFF.
Please and thank you. Have a lovely day.

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