knock, knock

Stop the knocking!

Pit pat, pit pat, pit pat

Constant beats like a drum roll

Voices hushed and rushed

Anger boiling

Patience lost

Just stop the knocking!

And leave me alore.

my week of inspiration in a blog post...

My fingers have been squirming to write or type something. So, this post is about the plethora of inspiration I received this week. From school assemblies to a little bit of self reassurance, this week was just sigh of relief. I'll tell you why...

Doll

That doll:

Has large brown eyes and a tangle of black hair that swirls like a broken amazon down her spine.

She moves when people tell her to,

She wears what people adorn,

She words the talk people want to hear,

She does the everything people expect.

But one day, her impeccability gets too repetitive, too banal, too weird for the one person who had loved her so much.

Impatience and then,

She's thrown onto the side, left a chew toy for the dog.

.

..

....

I am that doll.

And I think I'm edging towards that corner.

I WANT TO WATCH "THE NOTEBOOK" SO FRICKIN BAD

(two) hair (braids, buns, pigtails) parted on the left)

         brown (red) , button down (patterned), (dress) collared shirt <3)

         (revealing not too much, but just enough)

ice (A flirtatious) cream mustache (joke, perhaps?*

A (a) laugh (k), white (IS) pearls (s)

True (forever) love

Play

Break!

That wall.

An order it is.

And not the first,

Nor the second,

And most definitely not the third.

But tear down that fourth wall

To make chances and possibilities.

Speak!

Loud.

Formidable.

Commanding.

Take charge!

All the players are pawns

All the characters mere puppets

Pick their strings and guide them for the better.

Guide!

I order you to guide.

And most importantly.

Succeed!

The ones that prosper are not the ones that arouse a laugh

Or a tear.

Instead, they create.

A new world with a bridge.

Over a sea.

To lands unknown and unthoughtof.

So,

Build that damn bridge.

Build it and go!

Lost

I'm stranded on an island,

In the middle of nowhere.

Swish, swash goes the sounds of the waves

Eep, eeep go the cries of the birds

I turn around, the sounds catching my ears, but silence ensues instead.

All I can see is a strip of land - endless, gleaming, barren.

Is it even an island? I think.

For an island has the shelter, the palm trees, the birds?

Right?

Or is that a lie as well?

No boat, no compass

They've left me in labyrinth of mysteries and dangers.

Trusting me with the ability to crawl myself back out.

Trusting Him to guide me through it all.

"A Bird Came Down" - Emily Dickinson

Besides getting in that extra sleep and catching up on some tv and family time, what I like about the weekends is that they're an escape from all the people out there. At school, I'm inundated by the midterm review packets the teachers expect us to remember, the "reassurances" from girls who "will stand by my side even with this bad hair day", and the "guidance counselors/friends" who incessantly need to remind me that I'm screwing my social life with the four AP classes I've decided to take and the emphasized studying I do every day. Well, people, mind your own business. I'm really not that interesting. I'm really not, but people just have the tendency to offer their "so called advice" (it's honestly just their brutal opinion) to me in order to make me feel like crap. Well, back off.

So, I'm researching this Emily Dickinson poem in order to study for my midterm; I've read one of her poems ("Snake") and had come to hate it, but when I read "A Bird Came Down", it just stuck with me because it was so real. 

Basically, in the poem, there's this bird. This bird (in my opinion, a girl) is doing what she wants: eating her worm, drinking her water, unaware of the penetrating stares. Yet, when this bird turns around, her eyes "look like frightened beads" for she sees the narrator staring at her. Creepy, right? Well, the narrator offers a "crumb" (hm. piece of advice? [no pun intended]), but the bird dismisses it; instead, she rows away, into a bliss that's unforgotten. She flies away and grazes the water without making a single splash. Impeccable.

This bird represents not only the oppressed people of the world, but it represents, Ms. Emily herself, and me. I'm the bird and all these school kids, parents, and teachers are the silent judges of my actions. At the end, when the bird flies away, it epitomizes the beauty of freedom. I guess I have to learn that. Learn that it's not necessary to succumb to anyone's standards or beliefs. It's just better to break off your wings and fly on your own.

[Have you guys read this? Anyone find another interpretation?]

If I had you in my hands,

Oh, all the good ones try,

To catch you in their hands,

Yet when they do, they fail

Always.

Miserably.

And I concur for I have tried;

For days, for months, for years.

To catch you; to stop you,

To unscrew your back,

And unwind your handles.

Yet my mere attempts are like blatant cries for help,

For you see what I'm doing,

And yet you never succumb.

So, what to do?

You frustrate me; you antagonize me.

You tantalize me and you exhaust me.

Yet, sometimes you're the one I'm thankful for,

The thing I need during those incessant nights; when I'm deep at sleep; eyes closed, unconscionably unaware.

You keep moving; and you are the one that makes me forget: forget the adversity, the blood, the dagger.

Oh! But your negatives outweigh your positives. Always. Forever and always.