To the year I found my pen...goodbye to 2010.

Well, this has been quite a year. I can't help but smirk when I think about how far I've come, who I became, and what I've learned in the past 12 months. So much has happened, so much has changed...but more importantly, I've changed. Navigating through troubled waters, I reached the calming sea's peaceful rainbow, and for that alone, I will forever be thankful for the year 2010.

I can honestly say that I've grown tremendously in the last year alone, becoming a stronger, wiser, more responsible adult finding her way in this crazy thing we call life. My year, unlike any other, can be traced and understood through my writing. For it shows the ups and downs of my life, discovering moments of both discouragement and inspiration, glorifying the Lord while cursing my gift, and learning who am I and who I'm becoming each and everyday.

And as I reflect on the past year, I become more and more thankful for the heavenly-sent angels that guided me through it all. For if it wasn't for the father's light shining brightly within some of his most precious children, I would have never been able to find my way through the dark.

To the year I found pen...goodbye to 2010.

Here's to 2011...may it feel just like heaven.

The Missing Chalice

** This poem will only be funny to those who understand the background story...you know who you are.

Once upon a midnight clear,
Two sweet girls with hearts of gold,
And confidence assured with little fear
Performed a task once foretold.
With silver coins and a box of magic
That connected them with distant lands
They ordered a lovely “Emmaus” chalice.
So beautiful; so stunning; so grand.
Yet, the high priest upon the throne
Tormented the girls for their precious gift,
And hid the chalice to a place unknown
Claiming the jewel for him was unfit.
And now this chalice haunts the land,
Seeking to stay in the high priest’s hands.

As I Lay

In the light of the glimmering moon,
Lying beneath the stars,
I find my heart lost within
The art of who you are.
And lying beneath the heavens,
I gaze up at the sky,
But the sky is not as beautiful
As the beauty in your eyes.
For all the wonders of the world,
Could never compare with thee,
Your greatness lies within your soul,
Your love a mysterious masterpiece.
So as I lay beneath the stars,
And as I lay next to you,
I lie with a wonder of the universe,
I lie with God's beautiful truth.

Love me.

Love me as the bright side of the moon,
Always there and always bright.
And when the world can not see its love,
Heaven will still see the dark moon's light.
A soothing comfort; a peaceful reminder,
Watching me high up in the sky,
For when the darkness glazes over my life,
The moon's sad smile will still shine.

Love me as a shooting star,
And make all my wishes come true.
Bring me comfort, allow me to dream,
And guide my dreams back to the you.
As glimmering embers begin to ignite,
The ardent fire of burning passion,
Lights up the darkness and guides me through,
The dark--with love and deep compassion.

Love me as a rocket ship,
Aiming high above the distant stars.
A lively spirit reaching marvels,
Making history, traveling afar.
Discovering miracles at new heights,
Brings the rocket ship back home.
But the astounding wonders of the universe,
Will be reminisced down below.

Love me as our Heavenly Father,
The most powerful being of all.
For his love created: the heavens,
The rocket ship, the moon, and the stars.
And His love brought his son to Earth,
And His love tends to you now.
So love me as my Heavenly Father,
For our Father has taught you how.


----For "Creepy"

Beating of a Burning Heart

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Fueled by passion,

Brighter than the sun.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Lit by love,

Growing deep within.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Temperate beating;

Constant as a drum.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Sparked and fuming;

Power of a gun.

This is the beating...

This is the burning...

Of a beating, burning heart.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Boiling heat,

Growing fireball.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Edges breaking,

Straining apart.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Anger rising,

Building up walls.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Towering pain,

Refusing to fall.

This is the beating...

This is the burning...

This is the death...

Of a beating, burning, dying heart.

(Silence)

My angel, my guardian

This poem is inspired by the children's prayer to guardian angels and includes the lines from the prayer.

Angel of God, my Guardian dear,
Who has been with me throughout the years.
And to whom God's love commits me here,
For here with me I have no fear.
Ever this day, be by my side,
Throughout my life, and help me find.
To light, to guard, to rule, to guide,
My Lord, my God, with whom you lie.

Despite my dreams, let His will be

This is a short poem I read inspired from the 18th century children's prayer: Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep.


As I lay me down to sleep,
And dream of my life with thee;
I pray dear Lord my soul to keep,
And despite my dreams, let His will be.
So keep my guarded through the night,
Give me strength to know what's right.
And keep me safe 'til morning light,
Until I see your heavenly light.

Wise Advice about Perspective in Life, from Mother Teresa

This poem (a "final analysis" prayer, putting things in proper perspective) is engraved on the wall of Mother Teresa's home for children in Calcutta. Evidently it is a revision, either by Mother Teresa or someone else, of an earlier poem by Kent Keith. She liked the revised version, and put it on her wall.

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People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered;

Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind,

people may accuse you of selfish ulterior motives;

Be kind anyway.

If you are successful,

you will win some false friends and some true enemies;

Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank,

people may cheat you;

Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building,

someone could destroy overnight.

Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness,

they may be jealous;

Be happy anyway.

The good you do today,

people will often forget tomorrow;

Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have,

and it may never be enough;

Give the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysisit

is between you and God;

it was never between you and them anyway.

"No Comment"

I'm sick of the drama.
I'm sick of the pain.
And this "No Comment" bitch,
Speaks only in vain.

But time will only tell,
Who'll win in the end,
'Cause it's Game on girl,
I'll play 'til you're dead.

So think before you speak.
And know before you act.
This team soon became,
A competitive smack.

Don't be so jealous,
You wish you were good.
And you had nothing to say,
'Cause you know you're the fool.

So take your "No Comment,"
Cause when this is all said and done.
I'll have won you so bad,
You should have just shut up and run.

Miracles

A small child, blind from the world of love,
Stands alone. Lost in the darkness of pain.
Shivering within the cold of distrust,
Turning his heart to ice; running through his veins.
He stares into the dark, bleeding in his core,
Feeling unloved, abandoned, neglected, lost.
Unable to remember the life he had before,
His heart--his innocence--taken from the frost.
Withering away, engrossed in the black,
His blindness corrupting every part of his soul.
Praying to find his only way back
To his father's warmth; shelter from the cold.
For the day that he lost his innocence,
He lost guidance from the Father's light,
The evil world sunk him into darkness,
Blinding him from love--taking his sight.
Losing the Father to the black abyss,
He wandered forward on his own free will
From the pureness of love, he brought forth sin
And with each step, his heart grew still.

And the colder it gets, the more he drowns
Deep into the ground, hiding his misery.
His cries consume the dark--become the only sound
A sad love song; a soul's pure symphony.
His lips turn blue, his hands turn cold
As his stubbornness burns deep within
The fire of his anger, once foretold
Slowly freezes as his heart wears thin.
If only, if only this child could know
His despair is not his pain alone.
If only, if only this child could go
Start anew; and come back home.
If only this child could look back and see
The man waiting for him to turn around
Watching his child's innocence turn to be
A cold-hearted soul; a conscience unwound.
And if only this child looked back from this place,
To see all hope, his innocence--is not yet lost
He'd see his Father waiting with a large embrace
His love bringing warmth; shelter from the frost.

Fallin' in Love with Fall

Well ladies and gentlemen, it's that time of year again.

The days of summer lovin' are falling slowly behind us as Fall comes into play. Shorts are replaced with scarves, and those icy chilled drinks are substituted for warm hot chocolate. Time to pack up the kids and go apple picking as they file into school...time to wish those sunny Sundays goodbye and fall in love with those chilly nights by the fireplace.

These are the days I wish I lived somewhere with actual 4 seasons to watch the leaves turn different colors....sigh.


Well Summer, it was nice spending a few months with you. But along with the heat came a lot of drama in my life, and I'm tired of those long sleepless nights from hot drama and....well, just plain old summer heat.

'Til 2011 summer...2010 is slowly fallin' behind us.

Beware the Eyes

The eyes that pierce a thousand souls
And lie awake in misery--
Look hard as stone, feel icy cold
Become a nightmare's mystery.
Drunk with hatred, high off pain
Peering deep into your heart;
Destroys your love as it must stain
Your heart black and tear it apart.
Be cautious as you wander close
To this evil and daunting pair.
It thirsts for pain and will engross
Your hopes and dreams into its lair.
You are now warned--a word to the wise,
For I know the truth, as these eyes are mine.

A tear is but...

A tear is but a drop of pain
Bleeding from a broken heart.
Dying hopes; relentless strain
A shattered soul, shred apart.
And like a storm, a drop cascades
Softly from a cloud up high.
Rolling thunder; lightening shades
A drop is but a storm's soft cry.
But tears are strength, tears are power
Just like each drop found in a storm
A rainbow lies within each shower,
Each tear, a story to unroll.
So a tear is but a broken dream
Tearing a soul right at the seams.

When is Who What, and Where do I know How?

What to do--what to say.
Who to be--what to pray.

How to live--how to be.
Where to turn--how to see.

When to live--when to die.
What to try--when to cry.

Who to trust--who to seek.
How to look--who to meet.

Where to search--where to go.
When to find--where to know.

Why do I even try, when I already knew Where
The how, what, who--YOU--are always there.

Hoping for Home

Let me tell you about this place,
That nothing can compare to.
My home--my home sweet home.
Come, let me show you.
For this is a happy place,
As I hope you'll get to see.
A place where you feel whole,
A place for you to be.
And in this home you're blessed
In so many different ways.
My home is where the heart is,
The place it likes to stay.

And as I lie here
In pain and deep distress,
I dream about my home
With its image on my chest.
My home is far away from here
From this deep and troubled land,
And as I cry in agony
I pray to understand.
How I traveled so far away
How I came on this road?
For when I found myself lost,
I discovered lands unknown.
And I traveled deeper within
Praying hard to get out
Looking for my home
Not quite knowing how.

My home--my home sweet home,
The place I want to be.
Let me out of this dark place,
Please, someone help me.
My home--I want to go home.
I want peace within my heart.
The darkness here frightens me,
And is tearing me apart.
My home--my sanctuary.
You are so far away.
I'll continue dreaming for you,
Continue to hold on and pray.

Has Anyone Seen the North Star?

I hate admitting defeat almost as much as I hate admitting I need help. But, a lost traveler must admit he's lost his way and be able to stop and ask for directions. So...I will admit defeat and ask for help finding the North Star; I seem to have lost my way.

It's one of those times in my life where I feel I'm being pulled into way too many different directions that I've forgotten what road I started traveling on. It's like the puppet on the string scenario--the puppet doesn't realize he had strings until he's finally freed from his chains. Too bad I haven't been freed just yet...

I don't know where my life is headed, I don't know where the North Star is...and I'm just beginning to see that I may need a little more help finding my way back home then I thought.

Sea of Sorrows

And by each breath and with each sigh

I feel the water and pain settling in,

And slowly falling, I look up to the sky

Admitting defeat; wanting to win.

Drowning in the Sea of Sorrows,

Sinking deeper and deeper in the large abyss

Helplessly fighting, wanting a "tomorrow"

Unable to swim, unable to persist.

Damn my enemies for condemning me here,

Executing misery to bring me my death.

My reality becomes my deepest fear,

That the sea will take my one and only breath.

If only there was a way to get out of this sea,

But alas, the person that threw me was me.

Lost

I think I'm going to run away
To a place where no one can find me.
New faces, a new life, a new day
And this way I'll get to live, get to be
Deep down inside who I really am.
They see my label, and I'm so much more.
Because they just don't seem to understand
Who I am, my inner core.
So I'll run away, as fast as I can go
It doesn't matter how, doesn't matter where
And when I'm gone, I hope they'll know
The pain was mine, it was never theirs.
So I run faster and faster each day
Looking forward hoping for the best
Trying to find out my very own way
Seeking an adventure, seeing it as a test.
But somewhere along this dangerous road
I seemed to have lost track of the light
I sit in the dark in the vast unknown
Feeling lost and empty unable to fight.

I didn't mean to hurt them, they had to have known
I wasn't thinking clearly, it was all a bunch of lies.
I didn't mean to leave them, I just had to go.
I couldn't bear it no longer, it made me want to cry.
But their pain still lingers within me here
Although I've run, I'm now long gone
Their worries, their guilt, their faces, their fears
Ring constant within me as a sad, sad song.
I ran away forever, only looking ahead,
I ran away from there, trying to find refuge
I ran away, I remember what I said
I ran away from there with nothing to run to.
I look back and see the damage I left behind me,
Questioning why I never stayed to fight
Realizing now I fled and chose defeat.
I just want one more chance to try and make it right.

The Breath of My Heart

(My SDSU Petition)

Passionless words are dead, because passion brings words to life. William Wordsworth said, “Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart,” as the heart is the key to the soul and writing its sole escape. Our hearts are filled with one of our most precious treasures, our passion; it opens up through our writing and breathes life into words revealing the depths of our souls.

I will not attempt to excuse my discrepancies, as there is no excuse—but a few grammatical errors do not limit my writing capabilities. Wordsworth’s choice of the word “breathings” may be considered grammatically incorrect, though no one would question his diction. It is not the grammar that makes Wordsworth’s writing good, but the passionate words that make them masterpieces.

My heart beats from the power of persistence and its key is my pen. Journalistic strength is a journey, reaching those unable to discover the truth and fueled by constant determination. It is a journey I choose to pursue, revealing the truth to those who cannot find it themselves. This is my passion, my heart’s greatest treasure. This is the breath of my life.

Limbo

Life is a journey--a journey we all must travel. At some points, the road is smooth and easily accessible; but at other points, the path is troublesome and often times discouraging. It's at these points on our path that define us....these moments are our defining moments.

I'm currently going through a troubling time in my life, uncertain of what my future holds for me and not knowing which way to turn. I find myself doubting who I am and where my life's journey will take me. A good friend of mine told me that these moments, moments where we fall and were discouragement enters in our hearts are the times that define us. He said, "this will be your defining moment if you let it...otherwise it will just be a bump in the road."

I'm currently waiting for SDSU to answer my petition and inform me whether or not they'll admit me as a Journalism major.

God, you sure do have a sense of humor. But it's times like this I trust that you know where my journey's end will take me, even if I can't see it.

Doubt

As light casts out shadows, doubts cast out fears
For the vast unknown lurks within the dark
Seeking uncertainty, feeding off tears.
It lurks within every corner of our hearts
Finding refuge in discouragement, hiding with fright
It prowls to find that one little hole
The place he can pounce; ready to fight.
Sinking in your heart, seeping in your soul.
When your heart starts to break, doubt finds its way in
Grinning and sneering with intentions to kill
It spreads and spreads towards every ounce of your skin
Until your heart once empty, He now fills.
Your darkest hour will come, but know there's still light
Strike doubt 'til the death--time to get up and fight.

Two Paths to Choose

What should I do?
Which path should I choose?
Which way should I go?
How would I know?

What should I do?
Which path should I choose?
Which one is right?
Do I stand up and fight?

What should I do?
Which path should I choose?
If I go the wrong way,
Do I continue and stay?

What should I do?
Which path should I choose?
These two paths diverge
But do they both swerve?

What should I do?
Which path should I choose?
What choice do I make?
What are the stakes?

I close my eyes
As I heave a great sigh
Before me these two paths lie,
For I'm stuck at the split
Which one is my fit?
I just keep asking myself "Oh, dear God why?"

For darkness lies between
And I can't see the scene
But where these two paths split,
I just need one light
So I can finish this plight
And continue God's lasting wish.

But no light will come
Unless from the sun
And it seems to be very cold
For darkness on this path
Seems like it will last
Just as it was foretold

So I close my eyes
And heave a great sigh
And choose a path to pursue
Not knowing if it's right
It's time to fight
This is the path I must choose.

The Empty Hole

A child tells his mother,
"Mommy I'm hurting on my tooth!
I'm not sure what's wrong with it,
but I think it might be loose!"

So the mother tells her child,
"It's quite alright dear.
You just have a loose tooth,
you have nothing to fear."

But the child was scared,
and didn't know what to say.
It was the first time in his life
he'd ever felt this way.

But it was more than just his tooth,
he looked up to her and said,
"Mommy what will happen,
if this feeling has no end?"

So she starred at him and said,
with a smile upon her face
"In life there are troubles
that will always come our way.

But the secret" she explained
"is not to turn away,
life is quite like this,
it's hard to explain."

Sooner or later
the child's tooth finally fell out,
where he then went to discover
the empty hole in his mouth.

He said, "Mommy I know what you meant,
what you said to me before.
'Cause my tooth is now gone
by my mouth is still sore.

Just like my tooth
in life there is lots of pain,
and it hurts and hurts
until it finally goes away.

But when the pain leaves you
it's not completely missing,"
He stuck his tongue in the hole
and slowly started lisping.

"See when the pain is gone
it leaves this big ole space,
And when there's nothing there
it feels like it's a waste.

But now I'm a big kid,
And a new tooth is gonna grow,
This is still painful,
but pretty soon it'll show.

The pain will be gone,
The hole will be full,
And in the end I'll know
how it felt to be pulled...

Once by your pain
And then by your joy
Cause the pain can only come
when I become a big boy!

So life is about holes
When your tooth falls out
But it has to do that
to make room in your mouth.

Because new teeth will come
And when they finally do,
They need room to fill
and you'll feel brand new!

The tooth can't fall
Without pain coming first
So life without goodness
has to have the worst.

Life is a mouth,
And the pain is my tooth
There will be times it's fine
and times where it's loose.

But when the hole is filled
And a new tooth in it's place
The pain is forgotten
along with the empty space.

So for good things to come,
There needs to be bad,
Because just like being happy
we have to be sad."

The mother was shocked,
And didn't know how
Her child understood all of this
simply from his mouth.

For life is like a tooth
And pain is like a hole
Before the joy of a new tooth,
you must experience being sore.

Heavenly Stars

For the stars in the heavens twinkle above
As the Earth looks up in a wondrous sigh.
Birds nor planes may never reach its love
Or shimmering light that brightens the sky.
Yet the brightness burns with fervent fire
As creatures below come out to pray
Their heart releases its deepest desire
For the twinkling lights to show them the way.
Though the stars themselves are not a proper guide
But for the lone traveler seeking his end,
The stars up above make the Earth find
A powerful being only heavenly sent.
So I look to the stars shining brightly so high
Knowing God is behind them up in the sky.

My Best Friend

I recently went on a retreat and gave a talk titled "Who Am I?" My friend, my best friend wrote me a poem inspired by my talk, and by everything I've been going through recently in my life.

My friend is not a writer, nor finds inspiration to write. Yet, this poem that she wrote me is beautiful. It may be beautiful because she wrote it, it may be beautiful because it came from the heart, and it may be beautiful because this is how she sees me through her eyes--nevertheless, in my eyes, it's a beautiful piece of art.

Who Am I?

My Best Friend

My Sister

My Twin

One of he strongest girls I know.

The most driven.

Beautiful. Inside and out.

Full of Care. Courage, and Poise.

She forgets how amazing she is.

I want to remind her.

My Rock.

My Support.

My Best Friend.

Unable to let people down.

No matter what she thinks.

She is not defined by what she is.

But, by who she is.

Back to Jerusalem

"A close friend is better than a distant brother."

My life seems to revolve around this wise saying, and although it may or may not be true, it certainly is something to reflect on.

My friends, my best friends, are closer to me than most of my family. In a sense, they are my family. And it is now, when I always seem to Return to Jerusalem, that I am reminded of this.

By the way, read the Road to Emmaus: Luke 24:13-35. The journey may just change your life.

That No-No Food in the Office

Is there proper office etiquette saying that there are just certain foods that you don't eat in your cubicle? If there isn't, there definitely needs to be.

Indian food, with curry, should be on that list. Enough said.

Come on people, use your nose to determine common courtesy. No one cares what you eat unless it affects everyone's sense of smell. Then, everyone cares.

So do the polite thing, eat out of the office if your choice involves smelling like a hot camel.

A Good Friend

I must admit--I love having conversations with total and complete strangers. I don't know what it is, but there is great pleasure in confiding and have serious conversations with someone you may never see ever again. It's refreshing, insightful, and sometimes, more helpful than real conversations with people you know.

I'm going to re-tell an interesting conversation a good friend of mine had with a complete and total stranger that gave much insight into the word "a good friend."

This stranger was a man filled with wisdom and old age, a man who had gained and lost many friends over the years. He told her that a good friend is one that stays with you, because if they aren't there until the end, then they were never a good friend to begin with. He went on to saying that therefore, only good friends are true friends, and the rest are just acquaintances. If you can't feel comfortable saying anything to a good friend, then they're not a real friend, they are simply an acquaintance.

He explained that good friends are what make life worth living. And these people, the one that make an impression on your life, and a footprint on your heart, are the only friends worth having.

These wise words are truly insightful, beautifully said, and worth remembering.

So here's to good friends...may yours be the best you could ever ask for.

Bathroom Manners

Now I'm no expert on etiquette, but I wouldn't say I'm ignorant to it either. There are manners and social standards that society has placed upon us concerning our public behavior, and I would say that most of the time we follow them because, well, we should. Well ladies and gentlemen, do I have a story for you....

Since when is it okay to talk on your cell phone in the bathroom in a public restroom, while you are USING the bathroom? I'm sorry, but this is just wrong.

I don't care how important that phone call is, it can wait the five minutes it takes you to enter the bathroom, do your "business," wash your hands, and then leave. There is no absolute reason that you should have to be sitting on the toilet with a cell phone in your hand in a public restroom, hearing flushing in the background, and having a full on conversation.

The only reason, and trust me the only reason I even brought this up was because I had the unfortunate opportunity to witness this happening at work today. A woman walked into the bathroom on the phone, went in the stall on the phone, continued to talk when other people were flushing the toilet, came out of the stall on the phone, washed her hands, and left....still on the phone!

The funniest part of it was that when she walked out of the stall, she gave me a look saying "Excuse me, I'm having a private conversation." Well lady, next time you're having a private conversation, you may not want to be in a place where people are doing their "private business."

And how about the only thing I kept thinking was that there was some poor sucker on the other line that had to listen to all of that....

The Gate Called Beautiful

Acts 3:1-10:

Now Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, the ninth hour. And a man lame from birth was being carried, whom they laid daily at that gate of the temple which is called Beautiful to ask alms of those who entered the temple. Seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked for alms. And Peter directed his gaze at him, with John, and said, "Look at us." And he fixed his attention upon them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, "I have no silver and gold, but I give you what I have; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazereth, walk." And he took him by the right hand and raised him up; and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong. And leaping up he stood and walked and entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God. And all the people saw him walking and praising God, and recognized him as the one who sat for alms at the Beautiful Gate of the temple; and they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him.
--This Bible passage, along with someone very close to me, inspired me to write what is posted below. Some of you may be able to understand, and others may not; but I believe almost everyone can take something out of this passage and the emotions I felt while reading this. I owe my new found writing inspiration to someone who works to see me succeed, yearns to see me happy, and is truly a good friend. Most of you may not be able to see the symbolism, but to those who understand, it makes all the difference.

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I am not an artist--and I'm not sure I ever was. Though writing is a part of me, I can not and would not consider what I write beautiful. I write with a purpose, a motive, a reason--and that does not constitute the basis of beauty. I write for truth, and although truth is nature, the truth is often times ugly.

For a very long time now I've denied my written passion, locking it away somewhere deep within me with the desire for it to vanish completely. Yet, writing is still a part of me--something I can't destroy, cannot hide, cannot deny. Writing is a part of me much like my right arm; I forget it's there, forget it's important, until it is cut off and gone...and as long as I live, my arm would always be a part of me, whether I have the capability, ability, or the opportunity to use it. I cannot hide, cannot deny that an arm is a part of me, for it is a limb, just as I cannot hide or deny that writing is a part of me. It is, and always will be, a limb of my heart and a limb of my soul.

My life has come to a fork in the road and I must choose a path to follow. Do I change my focus and accept I no longer yearn to seek the truth, and chose the path of a true artist? Or do I continue my quest, revealing the truth to those who cannot find it themselves? Though these two paths may seem just one, their journey takes you to two different destinations. Each path must stop and end at one point, but somewhere, from the moment you begin, there will inevitably be a bend. These bends, found on two different paths, unconsciously mimic each other.

In moments of darkness, the traveler finds himself in deep despair, Asking for guidance as his Expectations of his voyage fall short. It is then, in this Ninth Hour, he discovers the power of Persistence, striving to touch those Lame From Birth, and finds Healing not only with others, but within himself. Then, and only then, can he appreciate What He Has, what he has done, and discover his true Identity--when the darkness fades, his journey has ended, and all these Elements come together to create a true Masterpiece.

Though these paths end differently, their voyage is the same. It is the journey of an artist. Our lives all end differently, our lives all start differently. Yet, the footprints left on any artist's journey is always the same.

With deep despair comes disappointment; darkness seeking for light. But when the light descends like a heavenly dove, the journey alone may be considered a Masterpiece.

I don't know where my path is headed, where my journey will stop, or what I'm trying to reach. I have two paths to choose from, and although at first glance they may seem different, they truly are one of the same. It is here, at this fork in the road, I have finally looked back to see where I started, and to my shock and total dismay, it is exactly what I hoped not to find.

Up until this point, I have traveled the road of an artist. Too blind to see it, too ignorant to admit it, I too am an artist. In my mind, nothing I have done may be considered a piece of art, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder--you can not see a person's soul, a person's intentions, and can not determine what may be beautiful to them.

I can not determine the end of my journey, for it is not my choice to decide. My life, from the very start, was placed at the Beautiful Gate, and it is the only journey I've ever known, I just didn't know what it was. I always was, is, and will be an artist whose journey began at the Gate Called Beautiful, and from there, until my destinations end, I will forever travel the path of a true artist.

Can We Pretend that Airplanes in the Night Sky are like Shooting Stars?

"I could really use a wish right now..."

Ever felt like everything in your life just wasn't going right?
And every time you tried you were putting up a fight?
I'm stuck in the middle, Ain't got no where to go,
There is only one thing, That I really know for sure.

I got to keep fighting, try and get out of this mess.
Because no one will break me, I don't care what they said,
I'm more than you think, and more than you dreamed,
And when they're calling my name, you'll be calling on me.

This ain't no battle, this ain't no war.
You don't know who you're messing with, what you're fighting for
In the end you'll understand and see what I mean,
Cause you just see me, you can't see my dreams.

You didn't break me, I know who I am
And I became stronger when I was put in this jam,
But the airplanes in the sky are what kept me through
Wishing on a star, knowing none of it's true.

Just My Luck

It really is just my luck that the ONE DAY I don't have my parking permit on campus, I must get a parking ticket.

Come on now, really? People go the whole semester without ever buying the ridiculously overpriced sticker to give you permission to park somewhere that should be free. And yes, I have bought that sticker, and yes, my car happened to be in the shop when I received my parking ticket.

Of all days campus security actually does their job and checks stickers....really?

Oh God, you sure do have a sense of humor.

When Life Becomes Too Much like TV

Relationships that screw up friendships. Enough said.

You know that saying Chicks Before D****? Or even Bros before Hoes? It's pretty pathetic that these "sayings" are just that....sayings. And nothing more.

I'm not saying that I don't want my friend to be happy with their significant other, and I'm not saying that I want my friend to choose between me and their love interest. I just want my friend to be happy. But when a person makes you more unhappy and disappointed than joyous in a relationship....there's nothing that should be holding you back than having the strength to get up and leave. Having strength in a relationship is not stopping someone from trying to screw you over again, but having the courage to realize when enough is enough and walk away.

My life is slowly but surely turning into the MTV reality show, The Hills. I'm Lauren Conrad, and my best friend, Heidi, is slowly but surely getting sucked into a ridiculous and crappy relationship with Spencer, someone who treats her like dirt instead of diamonds.

Let's just hope this doesn't have the same ending that that did....

20 going on 30

Well...I am officially 20 years old. Thanks to all you creepers out there who have no idea who I am, yet are secretly wishing me a happy birthday under your breath. I truly feel the love, well, sort of.


But I do have the most amazing friends who have made sure to blow up my phone with calls and texts every 2 1/2 minutes to wish me a Happy Birthday. I love them, I really do <3>Correction: I've never been a fan of MY birthday. I'm not really sure why, but I always feel extremely awkward and out of place when someone wishes me a Happy Birthday...or even worse, when someone gets me a present.

Make fun of me all you want, but I truly don't like it, (and it's not because I'm growing into an old lady who is ashamed of her age and therefore resents the horrid day she is reminded of it.)

I'm a giver, not a receiver. I love, love LOVE celebrating my friends birthdays...I live for it, and I count down the days until I can take them out and surprise them with quirky little gifts. However, when it comes to mine...I silently pray that it comes and go as quickly and painlessly as possible.


So, it's my birthday, and I'm 20. I really feel like I should be 30 by now, and I take myself aback with the knowledge that I'm ONLY 20. With everything that I've been through, I feel like my teenage years was a compilation of 30 years. I guess I should be thankful it was only 10 though...

Anyways, Happy Birthday to me. Thanks again for your secret silent birthday wishes :)

Drama, Drama, and oh, more Drama

Who knew that Facebook could start more problems than technology thought possible???

Well my friends, it's been one of those days....one of those days where people seem to forget the rules of propriety and proper manners of maturity, including myself.

Much like the rest of the human race, I don't like people intentionally creating seditious libel to discredit my name and my reputation...especially on Facebook. Come on now, if you have something to say to me, be mature and say it to my face. Don't tremble like a puppy with his tail between his legs by "trying" to be slick and posting things on Facebook. That's for high schoolers...actually, that's for monkeys.

So the lesson here is know when you're wrong, and know when enough is enough. You're not cool because Facebook allows you to have an account...they allow the dumbest people to have one, i.e. Barak Obama.

My Heart's Treasure

Oh my dearest love, how I do love thee
For the deepest waters nor the limitless skies
Compares to the depths of thy heart’s eternal key
Which there, for all eternity, is where thee shall lie.
For there, you are safe from heartache and despair,
Away from the world which may destroy our love,
Unlike a man, I know thee will never cease to dare
To fly away among the heavens up above like a dove.
For in my heart you will always be kept close
And never run to discover things anew
You shall never sneak away as the art of a ghost
To bid me farewell and with someone new adieu
My pen, my darling, how you will always be near me,
For you keep me whole and will never truly flee.



--Written by yours truly <3

Put the Mirror down, and Back Away from the Plastic Surgeon

Celebrity plastic surgery mishaps. Enough said.

Quite frankly, I'm sick of the media hype over celebrities and their desire to look like unattractive plastic barbie dolls. There are more important things in the world to be concerned with than how many surgeries an infamous no good wannabe reality star went through in one day...oh you know, like the an earthquake that occurred in Haiti that left thousands dead and homeless? I think coverage of that rather than Heidi Montag's new disgusting tightly pulled face is more important, don't you think?

Nevertheless, I can't help on commenting on how ridiculous she is and her "new" face. Where she may now look in the mirror and think that she looks shiny and new, the rest of the world is tired of looking at her at all! But in all seriousness, does she listen to herself?

Oh, look at me, I'm Heidi, I got 10 procedures in one day, oh, and I almost died, AND I now have a bra size of DDD but I wanted even bigger, they just wouldn't fit, but ugh, I'm not an addict okay! Just because I'm 23 and changed my whole face where I'm almost unrecognizable does NOT mean I'm addicted to plastic surgery. Oh, and I'll totally do it again because I believe in inner beauty, that's the message I try to send to people. Inner beauty counts, but I'm not comfortable with my skin so I have to get more surgery. But I'm in an industry that requires this.

If inner beauty really does mean more to her than physical beauty, then she is one really dumb hypocritical ridiculous skanky (now plastic) bimbo.

Oh celebrities...your desire to look younger by visiting the doctor can and will backfire on you if you don't use proper precautions and common sense. We know you're human; We know you will age; We can tell when you look younger now than you did 20 years ago.

Dear Media: Stop reporting on dumb stories about pathetic celebrities and their new bra size, and report on more important things.

Please do whatever you can to help the Haitians, the aftermath of this earthquake is truly devastating. Keep them in your prayers...they need all the help they can get.

Goodbye Simon, Hello...uh, well...hmmm...?

It's official; Simon Cowell is leaving American Idol. So move over balloon boy, Jon and Kate Gosselin and White House Crashers, the media will now focus on this "hard-hitting news" until it has beaten the story to a slow and irritating death.

Though he may be leaving to promote his new popular show in the States, this may be the death of a show that defined a generation. A new judge can be added, Paula can be substituted, even Randy and Ryan can be switched out--but Simon Cowell, the man with the dirty rude British mouth that people tune in to watch, can NOT be replaced. He makes the show outrageous, entertaining and addicting more than any other aspect of the entire program. When people say they watch American Idol to see the amazing talent and watch prospective superstars take the stage, they're really saying they're watching to see how Simon Cowell will shred their performance to pieces and crush their dreams.

If we use simple logic, we discover that: Simon Cowell IS American Idol, American Idol IS America's guilty pleasure to watch on television, therefore--Simon Cowell IS America's guilty pleasure to watch on television.

The FOX network will not risk canceling their biggest ranking show until all life has been sucked out of it--and to their dismay, they are probably shaking in their boots that the end may be sooner than they hoped with this powerful man leaving the show. Let's pray that they don't try to drag on American Idol longer than necessary and it becomes "one of those shows" that stays on just to stay on though its audience has left and moved on to bigger and newer things.

So now the question is who will they try to replace the irreplaceable man with? Well, I guess we'll have to wait until the end of this season to find out the answer, but we will be able to see how well FOX producers replacement capabilities are with the arrival of Ellen Degeneres (though I believe she will add some very much needed funk and fun to the survival of the show).

Bon Voyage Simon, let's hope whoever they replace you with will be as rudely entertaining with an impressively dirty dictionary on hand. Another Brit wouldn't hurt either.

Music is the Key

Music is the key to the heart--and the heart is the key to the soul.


There's a piece of every heart that belongs to music as it: inspires ideas, evokes emotions, breathes life and assumes character. But most importantly, music creates a new realm of truth and fantasy that leaves its listener's heart aching for more at every lingering note.

It amazes me how people forget about the inspiration and beauty that music can create through not only the melody, but through words...because alas my dear friends, LYRICS are a part of the musical experience. Songs nowadays, no matter how catchy they are, or their innate ability to "dance" to, (and by dance, I mean the 21st century idea of dancing which is really grinding on each other) have poor lyrics.

Thank you to singers who perform songs about getting drunk in a club and "doing it" in the car.

Thank you to songwriters who write songs asking girls if they're "down" to well...you get the picture.

Thank you to producers who hire a 12 year old to sing songs about love, romance, dating, and sex.

And thank you to fans who listen religiously to these songs without realizing the message they send!

You are all extremely pathetic, superficial and money-hungry. Not everyone is a skank in a club or a polygamist looking for a one night stand.

So you may ask me now what is a person to do?

Listen to Michael Buble...aka our generation's Frank Sinatra. Ohh Michael Buble...thank you for making the music industry a better place :)

A New Year, A New Me, New Goals but Old Memories.

The start of a new year means new beginnings, new goals and new memories. But a new year also means reflecting on the past and perhaps strolling down good old memory lane...and sometimes, memory lane can be quite entertaining.

At the beginning of this new year, I found writings and poems I had written many, many years ago. One poem in particular caught my attention as I thought I had lost it after several computer crashes. My friends at the time had fallen in love with this poem and used many of its lines in their AIM status (this should help you to know how old this poem truly is, as no one uses AIM messaging anymore). Nevertheless, I would like to share this poem with you as I reflect on the time I wrote this and ponder on the new excitement and joy 2010 shall bring me.


Sometimes I wonder
How the world works.
Why it turns the way it does,
From right to left, and not left to right.

Sometimes I wonder
Why people do the things they do.
How and why they think that way,
Please tell me you don’t do it too!!

It seems like everyone is hiding something
That they kind of want to share.
But sometimes something is really nothing
And that anxiety tends to cause despair.

I wish the world was different,
A much better place.
Where people can be free
And nothing can get in the way.

If only there were something
A manual per say,
Which would help us through life’s journeys
So we will never fall astray.

Everyone deals with great struggles
That they may or may not have made,
Much like a sweet young girl,
That always held on and prayed.

The girl stands by the window.
Holding her precious little doll,
Prays by herself aloud
As the rain gently falls.

She wonders what waits before her,
Looking through the glass.
With all of life's mysteries,
She hopes that happiness will forever last.
But as she grows older,
She realizes her great strength,
She must now let go of the doll,
And experience life’s great pains.

Throughout this world
No one can stand the test of time.
The young girl must open the window
And gaze at the new sunshine.

See, her friends are there waiting
As the flowers begin to bloom,
She knows that she will find happiness,
And forget about the times that were blue.

The young girl knew
That friends are all she ever needs
For when people around you love you,
You'll never have anything to fear.

As we find obstacles in our view
And we want to turn the other way,
We must remember that good times are yet to come
And know that there is always another day.

For when our time comes
To leave this great big world,
We must know we found happiness in important things
And saw life as a beautiful ocean pearl.

Now I know I can’t just wonder
For the young girl taught me how
To always look on the bright side of life
No matter the number of doubts.

So we all now must look out the window
And hope that the rain will soon stop.
Because when the sunshine comes out
We will see the rainbow upon the mountaintop.