Thomas Edison - model of perseverence

When asked how he was able to go on in his quest to create the light bulb in the face of multiple failures, he famously replied, "I haven't failed 10,000 times, I've discovered 10,000 ways that won't work."

I need an easy friend...

I need an easy friend
someone who will try
to understand

Someone who will not judge
who will know
which questions to ask
and which ones not to

Someone willing
to take me as I am

Confusion

Destruction

Beauty

Flaws

Passion

Fear

Take it all
without a second thought

Give me the chance
to be who I was meant to be
to express myself
however I may try

I need an easy friend...


("I need an easy friend" is from a Nirvana song, I think)

Looking for the old story teller

you walk for miles just to see him
just to see the old story teller
the one that you’ve
heard stories about
some claim he’s lived for hundreds of years
and knows the stories of the world
other’s claim he’s just an old man
looking for attention
does it matter?
not to you
you want to hear the stories
he has to tell
regardless of his reasons for telling them
there’s just something about
sitting at the feet
of a legendary
old story teller

Everything can break

destroying that which seemed indestructible.
the one thing you’d never thought you’d break
begins to bend.
cut to the spine,
bending and reshaping,
creating something new from what was.
everything has its weakness,
even that which appears to be un-breakable,
it just has to be found.

Pieces of broken pottery

Take my hand and walk with me
leave the fleeting memories behind
We'll make a pact to forget
a pact to let the memories fragment
like pieces of broken pottery
swept away by an unseen broom
We'll leave the pieces behind
and pick up where we left off
Times have changed
but we remain the same
A little more battered
a little more bruised
but still the little girl and boy
who fell in love so long ago
There are others out there
to whom we are the broken pottery
but that won't matter
If you take my hand
we will walk on together

I'm a dork

Post number 100

From poetry.com

The Bee Box

In this small box, my love,
you'll not find a ring,
but instead, a brave little bee.
He'll be dead by morn, having given his life
defending his flowers against me.
I felt his sting
while picking the small, purple pansies
growing wild along the roadside,
in hopes of an afternoon bouquet for you.
And I grieved the sting,
more for him than me,
knowing full well the price he paid
for my small pain.
And I allowed him his victory,
leaving his flowers as a memory,
and brought you instead
this brave little bee,
who proves there is love
even in the smallest
of things.

Lowell Parker

Are you thinking of me?

I look at the sky
and think of you
part of me wonders
if you're looking too

I can't help but wonder
if you see what I see
and one question remains
are you thinking of me?

i think i may be lacking sleep...

a green monkey rides a moss rocket while smoking an intergalactic cigarette

what does he see but a purple donkey with rainbow wings being ridden by a little man of blue

they smile and wave to each their own going along on the orange stairway

?

the manic man
encouraging me to read
in order to find
an inspiration
to fill the need

to write
to allow my soul
to bleed

my mind races
trying to plant the seed
looking for the spark
that will enable me
to complete this deed

GIR

Knitted and stuffed GIR (from Invader Zim). Pattern from Johnny's Stew.

writing ramblings to you

losing my mind
tearing at the seems
my lips are sealed
but my body screams

passion
and fright
oh god
what a night

lost and confused
not knowing where i turned
wrecklessly running
and certain to get burned

watching
and waiting
wandering
and hesitating

questions racing
through my mind
if they don't stop soon
i'm going to unwind

self torment
and my mind is frayed
all this
just for getting laid

it doesn't make sense
of this i am aware
but all i can do now
is sit here and stare

you're gone now
and i should have known
that i would be left
feeling very alone

i set myself up
to feel this way
i wonder what you'll think
looking back on this day

you couldn't get me
out of your head
that's the story you told
it's what you said

only time will tell
if what you say is true
but for now i sit
writing ramblings to you

Can I?

I am but a shadow of myself.
Do you recognize me?
Can you still see who I was?
Because I can't.
I no longer see the carefree little girl,
the one with all the dreams,
all the wishes,
and no fear.
I'm so unsure of who I am,
that I don't even know
where to start
to attempt to figure it out.
What do you see when you look at me?
Do you know who I am?
Can you tell me where to start?
I'm lost.
I'm confused.
I'm amazed,
and in awe of everything.
In some ways I am very much
the little girl I don't remember,
but in others,
I'm nothing like her.
It's amazing how we change
without noticing.
It's amazing what happens
when we're busy with other things.
Life goes on,
regardless of what we might be doing.
I am who I am,
whether I understand what that means
or not.
Can you accept me as I am?
Can I?

Dancing in the dark

I dance in the dark
arms outstretched
feet moving
to the beat inside my head

I wonder
if I asked you to dance
would you join me?

Maybe you would
maybe you wouldn’t

I’ll never know
because
I’m too afraid to ask

There’s too much at stake
for me to risk the chance
that you’d turn me down
that you’d say no

I couldn’t survive
my heart being broken
by you

There’s too much
desire
hope
possibility
history

I know that I’m missing out
by fearing failure
but I can’t bring myself
to say the words out loud
to ask you to dance

So here I am
alone
dancing in the dark
arms outstretched
feet moving
to the beat inside my head

... when I'll land

Don't mind me, I'm just falling to pieces. Too many thoughts. Too many unanswered questions. Wanting to cry but the tears won't fall. Wanting to scream but afraid of drawing attention. Afraid of the questions and the misguided sympathy. Not being able to handle the looks of misunderstanding that result from people thinking they know how I feel. You can't know how I feel. No one but me can know that. You aren't me. You don't live in my head. (And some days it'd be nice if I didn't.) I don't know why I am the way I am. Sometimes I think I've got it figured out but there's always a shift and I end up shattered and broken again. An endless cycle. A ride that I can't get off of. I see the carnie with the toothless grin and cackling laughter, but he's no good to me. Don't know what I can do but hope the ride breaks down and I will be released. I am bound by unseen chains, blindfolded and gagged. I no longer have control. I am a puppet on a string with an unseen master choosing each move for me. I freefall into nothing and wonder when I'll land, if at all.

We could all use a few more hugs...

Holding on

Disconnected. Confused. Not sure where to go from here. Wanting something. Wanting someone. Don't know if there's a way to make it work. Reaching out blindly, not knowing if anyone's there, if anyone cares. Wanting to try something but fearing the potential consequences if it doesn't work. Not wanting to lose what is but curious about what could be. A couple road blocks leave things very up in the air. Hating feeling like this but don't know what to do to change it. Hoping for something that can't be had. Frustrated. Lost. Left wanting. But what? Don't know. Wanting to feel close to someone. Wanting to feel loved. What needs to be done? Is there anything that can be? Or is it all up to fate and chance? So unsure. Going around in circles. Spiraling. Falling. In love? Out of love? Feels like some strange combination of. Feeling like a chance was missed. Should have been taken before but wasn't. Conversation. Thoughts. Ideas. No way of acting on them. Stressed, with only the self to blame. Though that might not quite be true. Thinking too much. Making something of nothing. But still hoping. Holding on to the possibility. Knowing it's likely in vain and a wasted effort but not knowing what else to do.

Keith Richards Info

According to my sister, from something she saw on TV, Keith Richards told the magazine that he snorted his father's ashes as a joke but they printed it anyway. So he may not be quite as strange as that action would indicate but definitely says something about his sense of humor.

Ha ha ha, Keith Richards is unreal!!!

Rolling Stones Keith Richards snorted his father’s ashes mixed with cocaine, he tells magazine
By Associated PressTuesday, April 3, 2007 - Updated: 04:17 PM EST

LONDON -- Keith Richards has acknowledged consuming a raft of illegal substances in his time, but this may top them all.

In comments published Tuesday, the 63-year-old Rolling Stones guitarist said he had snorted his father’s ashes mixed with cocaine.

”The strangest thing I’ve tried to snort? My father. I snorted my father,” Richards was quoted as saying by British music magazine NME.

”He was cremated and I couldn’t resist grinding him up with a little bit of blow. My dad wouldn’t have cared,” he said. ”... It went down pretty well, and I’m still alive.”

Richards’ father, Bert, died in 2002, at 84.

Richards, one of rock’s legendary wild men, told the magazine that his survival was the result of luck, and advised young musicians against trying to emulate him.

”I did it because that was the way I did it. Now people think it’s a way of life,” he was quoted as saying.

”I’ve no pretensions about immortality,” he added. ”I’m the same as everyone ... just kind of lucky.

”I was No. 1 on the ’who’s likely to die’ list for 10 years. I mean, I was really disappointed when I fell off the list,” Richards said.

© Copyright 2007 Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.

Courtship and Love

It's a game
It's an art form
It's confusing as hell

It's wonder
It's bliss
It's the most pain you'll ever know

It's chance
It's skill
It's complete and utter fluke

Sometimes you get lucky
Sometimes you don't
Sometimes it's just not enough

It's friendship
It's loneliness
It's so much more

It's desirable
It's repulsing
It's something that can't be explained

It's heaven
It's hell
It's more addictive than anything

Do I love him?
Does he love me?
How do we really know?

If I...

If I reach for you
will you take my hand?

If I call your name
will you answer?

If I look
will I find you?

Will you be there
when I need you?

and when I don't?