Rehearsal

Crazy days and doing plays - I probably got more physical with the boys than I ever have today. Ever. And that was not necessarily a pleasant experience; I think I have sustained a few injuries to my lower jaw and the side of my foot... but hey, I guess that marks me as an actor.
Anyway, today's picture is of Nicole being picked up by Kayla and traipsing around the kitchen because it was just so much fun! There are a bunch of other pictures on Facebook, but I liked this one the best.

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Old Photos...

Yeah, I know, I'm a lame-o, but this photo fits my thoughts tonight. A flash of color, a spark of light - and behold! A bunch of Sharpie colors intricately arranged on a rubber band. Courtesy of Sophia's house. Hooray!

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Talk

This is my -ish idea about Midsummer. I don't know why I would write a poem... but hey!
Also, Darryl the test-taking penguin, made a debut today - and hence his face is immortalized now forever. Forever.

Either side? It will displease.
These wheezing wedding words were thrown,
Upon the ground where no man's trail,
Would seize upon this sore unknown,
Of lover's flight through hill or dale.
Now, when all is quite begun, those wedding words would oft appease.

Soft by day and cured by sense,
Neither I and neither you, in this sordid avenue,
Could predict their fancied flight,
As caution marked the morning dew.
Those lovers fled by blackened night,
But found no savior waiting hence.

And upon their fated stroll,
The lovers, wearied till the dawn,
Slept near the end of shallow day;
Their sleep did not decide to fawn,
And cast the poor man others' way.
Only our hearts' softness takes the toll.

Now followers, quite black and blue,
Were struck to trouble in the shift,
From one to other craggy cliff,
And, in their callous mocking, sift,
Between thoughts and desires quite too... stiff.
And all with only such a problem as to woo.

And finally, that fair prayer resides,
Amidst the heart and heat of escape,
The sweetness it does not parade,
As jealousy does shed its cape;
Only joy comes when love is bade,
And they were each as much in love - and more besides.

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More poetry is also available for your perusal.

Aww..

Those cats. Sometimes they just do things so perfectly that all you can do is take a picture.
Today was the first day of finals, but it was pretty relaxing - however, I realized that IHOP is really harsh about letting you order off the kids menu when you're older than 12 [stupid people who pack their food with calories and then won't allow you to have a 'smart option']
Something strange that I learned about just today: young transsexuals. More specifically, the youngest operation for a transgendered person happened in Germany; a boy became a girl at the age of 16 after having taken hormone therapy since she was 12.
The psychologists believe that she was completely ready and serious, and I think that whatever her choice should be hers but... it just makes me wonder. What do we mean by 'sure'? Because walking into the girl's locker room and feeling better in tight jeans doesn't necessarily mean that you are really a girl on the inside. There are a lot of factors that play into it that I just can't comprehend.
Since I am not transgendered, I have no room to speak really, but where does the line draw between 'tomboy' and 'transgendered'? Because we have such an opinion of womanhood based on society that I don't know sometimes if psychoanalysis can tell you what that distinction is. I really wish the article had gone more into depth about the brain reactions than just the surface level interview - I want to know! Do they feel like they have the female parts even without them? Is there something chemical in them that is different than a regular man or woman? What do they think of themselves? So many questions!
Anyway, I hope that the girl feels more comfortable in her true skin now, rather than having to deal with that for a longer period of time.

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Do

In all the days of my stringent Goal of the Month to write 250 words per day, yesterday was my failing. I simply completely totally forgot about it all. So, instead of panicking and jettisoning the entire thing, I am resolved to write 500 words today. Aha!
As it stands, I think I am going to wait until 2nd semester to start any new workout program. I am having a lot of trouble with doing it in the morning because I have never been one of those 'happy risers' and I usually have a ton of other stuff to do during this time anyway. The other thing I need to make sure of is that I'm going to bed at 9pm and waking up at 5am. I have been going to bed 10 minutes late and waking up ten minutes late for the last few days and I just don't like it.
In general, plan revision is a lot easier for me these days. I used to just cancel everything I was doing or let it fade away if I was finding it difficult - now I actually feel pretty guilty or angry if I don't do things. But that's another story.
I've started reading another book [I used to read like 3 books at a time and I think that I can get back into that] called Brain Rules. Since I am a nerd at heart, I am reading introductory psychology texts - not classroom level but just 'interested' level on basic brain functions. It's fascinating! I miss reading a lot... I read National Geographic yesterday and started the other two books the day before. Soon I will be able to read again - very soon.
Anyway, I guess my credo is still the same as when the Dalai Lama said at his Seeds of Compassion festival in Seattle - "whatever you choose to do, be serious."

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Feel

I wrote this yesterday after watching Why We Fight [a documentary on the military industrial complex]

In the darkness, he wanes. A lone and standing figure, gun in hand, helmet strapped securely under his chin.

There’s something great about the way he stands – the blood-streaked reality that is his livelihood falls away under the thought that maybe he would be a good marriage candidate, maybe he would be able to protect me if anything happened. But then the questions come and you forget about it. Look on him with both your eyes questioning: there is then no turning back.

I was not a young girl when I realized that it was all a sham. That the crisp blue pants and fitted shirts were not the mark of a young boy running around under his father’s strict wishes, no. They were his. And he would walk formally through the reeds and try to find the other boys in their eternal game of hide and seek.

“Bang!” he would shout. Then he would dodge to the side with galloping strides. The four horsemen could not measure up. “Bang!”

I watch him now on the crest of the hill as the valley sinks low in the evening light. I send up a prayer for his safety, but the listening party sends him down into the darkness and I back into the warm glow of the lamp as it flickers.

“Don’t worry about me,” he had said. Almost an adult now, he could make his own decisions. He didn’t need anyone to tell him that he was making the right decision – he knew that with all his heart. I just couldn’t understand.

I would make lines in the flour as it dropped from the open bag, spelling his name in spilled ghostly letters. My fingers would come away chalky, but usually they were cleaned by the time I had finished crying. Cookies baked in sorrow are nothing but disgusting lumps.
I wrenched myself awake after he parted over the lip of that hill, onto a place where no one knew his name or his favorite comic book or the girl he had asked to prom. I was dripping with sweat, looking to see if I’d bothered the empty space where his father used to lay. I sighed.

Every morning was a new headache as the neighbors asked me whether he was coming back or where he was. I tried to make my life not all about him, but somehow every scarf I knitted and every phone call I made were in hopes that he would come back and tell me that he loved me and what was going on with Auntie or Mo?

I still saw him behind my eyelids. Even as the TV went black and the phone rang ominously, I could still see him there. Waving his fingers around like a child. Then he smiled brightly at me, drew his L-shaped hand up next to his face and shouted. “Bang!”

When I answered the phone there was a strange man on the other end of the line.

“Ms. Rojan?” I nodded, but then caught myself and answered “yes?”

“I am sorry to have to inform you, ma’am, but your son was killed in combat.”

My mind blanks out after that point.


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More writing and stories are also available for your reading pleasure.

5 Hours

Five hours until I am supposed to go to bed and I have... a lot of stuff that I want to do before then. So, this probably will be brief. Probably.
I have lost 3.8 pounds! And I am pretty happy about it because that gets me back to my original weight of about 140. That means that, (knock on wood) if I continue in the way that I am going, I will get down to 130 [my goal weight] in no time! Hooray! I am glad to see that all my changes and choices are naught for naught (haha).
And hence this week ushers in the new exercise plan I was talking about yesterday and as well a new treatment of myself. Right now I am supremely freaking out about a lot of stuff so I think that giving myself exercise time will at least get the blood flowing instead. Who knows?
As of this moment, I have started reading again. I am now reading the book A Golden Age which is about the split between Bangladesh and Pakistan [it starts out very sad] and listening to a book When You Are Engulfed in Flames which is completely different [and started out with worms burrowing in someone's leg]. Eventually, I might review them... hmm.
And last but not least, I got my headphones back! And that's why the dramatic glossy product shot of my Sansa Fuze and Skullcandy headphones is my photograph for today [natural lighting is my weekend best friend]. I love them. *sigh*

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