when the crazy wheel slows down While listening to some music on a homework break, I stumbled upon my Musicals collection. This one song had some great lyrics that I think everyone can relate to at one time or another. I also like them because they are not about love or friendship, but personal confessions and fears....how fit for halloween

Who needs a dream?
Who needs ambition?
Who’d be the fool in my position?
Once I had dreams
Now they’re obsessions
Hopes became needs
Lover’s possessions
Then they move in
Oh, so discretely
Slowly at first
Smiling too sweetly
I open doors
They walked right through them
Called me their friends
I hardly knew them
Now I’m….. where I wanna be and who I wanna be and doin what I always said I wanted yet I feel I haven’t won at all
Running for my life and never looking back in case of someone right behind me should be there and say he’d always knew I’d fall.
When the crazy wheel slows down
Where will I be
Back where I started
Don’t get me wrong
I’m not complaining
Times have been good
Fast, entertaining
But what’s the point? If I’m concealing
Most of my thoughts
All of my fears
All of my feelings.
  ¶ 4:09 PM 1 Comments

  My key wont fit white room with all the comforts of everything I've known, nothing dusty or rusted, each nuance fitted to my form. Doors make up the walls, gateways into places never imagined. yes, they are labled, but only with vague titles that stir up the possiblities of the ventures. One close labled "institution". Closing my eyes, turning off the white light and reverting back to my dark place, my eyes roll into my the trappings between my imagining lobes and I see it. Tall building, warm sun, stressed inside woman, prosperous economy, and a less-than-ideal lifestyle. I see approval, money, and breakdowns. Opposite institution I see "passion". Back into my head, a big, gorgeous theatre with blood red curtains and tall balconies. I feel freedom, fitness, poverty, and brokenness. Career? Its a gamble. Disappointment? Even more so. Other doors labled art, work, travel, money, family, love, rest, move, stay.......I dont even have time to imagine because there is a breath on my neck asking me, telling me, pulling me closer. Nov 1...tell me now...he says....He says choose one and only one. May I open it a look in first? I ask. No, just choose. But i cant, it is impossible. I dont know what i want, who I am, where i should go. I am so afriad of leaving this white room where everything fits.What if i choose the wrong door? Tell me sir, can I come back?
Just choose......because even no choice is a choice that chooses for you.

Favorite song line:
"You ain't no Repunsle, I have willingly fallen and you have cut your own hair."
~Rufus, Ashes I dont even know what it means but it sure is poetic!
  ¶ 3:26 PM 3 Comments

  I wanna be naked I am absolutely baffled by the world. I live in a cage, no, a peapod, no, a section of a comp0uter chip. I spent 40 minutes in Costco today looking at the most poetic photgraphs in "National Geographics Best Portriats". Each photograph was from a different place, a different time, a different culture, a different people; more than 80% I had never heard of and even a larger majority I hadn't even thought of. I feel so ignorant, to not even know about the own place I inhabit as to what it contains and the people who live on it. One portrait inparticular was burnt into my brain as I slowly turned the pages, completely oblivious to the franktic shoppers surrounding me in the little world of Costco. It was of a tribal family in some tropical country; man woman and children. It was nighttime and the dense forest behind them provided a canapy over thei heads. Father about 19 sat searingly close to the fire on the floor, body scarred and mudd covered. Two little boys, about 3 and 6 naked in the hutt that reminded me 0f an ancient version of a two person tent we used to take camping. And most embosing was the mother, sitting on a hand-woven matt, stomach swollen with child, breasts dropped on either side, head completely shaved. Her legs were spread to craddle her overpowering abdomine and her hands were full with shubbery. All in the nude and darker than ebony, their white eyes were fixed into the camera lens, wide open with blank expression. You forget that they are still out there, that not everyone lives under rule fighting or supressing to modern society. I am not ignorant to poverty, no, alas I know people struggle, though to what extent I have no comparison. I know that there is war and death and sacrafices and mutilations, but to who these affect I cannot name them all. And I can even say I knew that people still lived naked, without embarrassment or shame and only with the thought of coherent and efficient life in mind. But never have I seen them. They were, till today, an imaginary picture in my mind of something resembling ancient civilizations near deceased. But now, they have a face. I am a minority, not a majority, and it is sad to know that others of my type will remain in their microchip-sized cage for their entire lives.

Wonder how big the world is? Go to PopClock and be amazed. Now convinced? Click back and then forward a few times. I counted about 4 per second. What'd you get?
  ¶ 7:53 PM 0 Comments

  Pose a prose of pondering please I tend to take after my father. My mother takes much at face value but has alot going on in her brain that remains unsaid, but my father on the other hand, is different. He has read more self-help book than your local library owns. Everymorning and everynight, he spends a good 15 minutes reading. Actually, I hardly ever catch him in the act; i most often only observe his pondering. He reads everything and anything. Most are either of religious content, about CHristianity or others becuase he believes in knowing everything before choosing something, about sports and leadership, or about desire and life. Every so often if I spend more than a good five seconds in the same room as his lazyboy while he is pondering, he throws random questions at me or cites a quote that intrigues him. I respond to every one of them, understand half, and care about even less. He's involved me in his "quiet time" ever since I was about 7. I think this started the way I think. I take after my father. We think the same, solve the same, and ponder similarly. It is from him that I adapted my most favorite silence'breaking question; "what are you thinking about?" People tend to reply similarly to my response to my father's inquirious questions; they always answer, but hardly even give it thought. Most common response; Nothin. That's BS if i ever heard it. Youre always thinking. It is only when you are unable to label or connect iwht thoughts that say that you are thinking nothing. I can honestly say I have never been thinking about nothing. Every hour of every day I find my mind covering the most random to the most dull of subjects. SO now I pose this; is everyone else like me? ARe you just lazy when replying 'nothing' to the question of actual thought? Or really are there times or mental domanty? Do you, like me, find your self questioning the realities or a governmentless society or the lasting effects of genetic engineered foods or the curiousity of the ability to lable air or sound waves or light or the untangible? I will never know unless someone comes clean here......
  ¶ 9:33 PM 3 Comments

  Swoosh I may not agree with alot of stuff Nike does but jsut today i chave come to appreciate their motto (well, their old motto)- Just Do It.It applies everywhere. Examples:

I am hungry
Just do it
I need to pee
Just do it
I have so much hjomework
just do it
I wish i were dancing right now
just do it
I am not in a good mood
just do it
why dont we have a green peace club?
just do it
I have a booger in my nose
Just do it



Now if that doesnt work, the great thing about the slogan is it works in reverse. Example:

Drugs are bad
Dont do it
The roads are slippery but I have a study party
Dont do it
I dont like Bush
Dont do it
The news is anoying
Dont do it
I am not ready to be a mother
dont do it
My armpits are hairy
Dont do it
I cant decide on a college
Dont do it

Basically, Nike knows everything

  ¶ 6:30 PM 3 Comments

  My corn is hot Cold. It never really feels like one day denounces or announces the presence or rather absence of a season past or to come. Most often it is like sleep; you realise it is upon you once you're there. But today, I am to announce, is the official first day of fall. I don't care about any solctice or moon change, today is the first day of fall. While out finding the perfection that is my pumpkin upon hours and hours of searching in the patchwork of orange and mud, I smelt it. It could not be denied. It is, and will be until i say different, the autumn season. The hills afront me stood still in the puddles of fog. Something stirred in the field and a wave of geese flew overhead. If I'd not known any better I would suggest the entire sky was rather polkadotted than just gray because so many birds crowded the airways. Then I heard fall too. I heard the geeze all squak, chirp, cry, whatever it is they do. And for the first time i can remember, i thought it was beautiful.

The most aesthetically pleasing scene so far this year was given to me by God today. Thankyou. Happy Autumn!
  ¶ 1:51 PM 0 Comments

  Chooo Choooo I have been loving this weekend. I feel like everyday has been the 7th day, total rest. ALthough dont get me wrong, there have been many a on-goings, but none which have grabbed me with ym normal sense of stress and anxiety and push to achieve.Love it

I love getting phone calls. Anyone, anywhere, anytime....wait, that was a lie. I cant take morning phone calls. First off, i cant speak for about the first hour after i wake up. Non-verbal comminutcation up to an hour after i awake is all my parents have come to expect from me, and that's fine. A simple "goodmorning" from my father met with a shoulder shrug and grunt from me. It's like my vocal cords as well as my comminucation skills need more sleep than the rest of me so i let them sleep in. So to be woken up with an abrupt ring, followed by the demand for a verbal response with the attempts to not sound like you were just hit by a train or smoked about a thousand packs of ciggarettes is not only difficult, but unpleasant. So, don't ever hesitate to call me, because i will always answer, but morning calls are one of the few things i can honestly say i have no appreciation for.

It's a beautiful morning with the promises of a great day. Off to dance i go
  ¶ 9:21 AM 0 Comments

  Move cloud please, that is better note: dedicated to Chaucer (although i decided 4 beats is better than 5)

Cool behind my small warm neck
the breath of tainted tone makes wreck
into my mind as if through skin
and opens for the bad to enter in
my eyes drop low, my pressure drops
each happy thought goes kaplop
my world is trainted from yellow to gray
be weary all who stand in my way
everything you wish to say
will not be met by me with gay
and pleasant response is far from here
for bad attitude day has shown its rear

like a cold without a carrier
it cannot be traced for i was merrier
before it came to prune my noon
and make everything so gloom
i said things i wished i ought not say
and by night fall had wasted my day
so apologies i do for make
and all for my loved ones' sake

sorry i was so pissy today mommy. Its not your fault


  ¶ 10:37 PM 1 Comments

  umm Heavy eyes make for a dull brain, while the weather outside simply adds weight to my lids. I like the tranquility and
the dew from the vast gray skies. I think i want to take a nap. goodbye

Back from my poetic backstab that led to an unfulfilling nap, but a very satisfying rest. Tonight while driving home and listening to my favorite jazz station, I realized that I was not driving. All should get off the road, kara is free and loose and not looking where she is going. By the time i had arrived onto my pine street, i realized i had driven the entire way unconciously. Not once do i remember actually looking at the road, sterring, breaking, gasing. I could have been speeding, swearving, going to canada, who knows. But no, i made it home safely. Is it possible that i actually was very concious in the efforts but had some kind of time lasp where I forgot the evetns of the drive. After all, i have driven that pat ha million times and the memories of the road are already pasted into my brain from the past 100 times. So why keep this new one? I believe i threw it out. Although I do remember it beigne very peacful, very foggy, and very slow.

I read something today that i will probably paste tomarrow. The idea that freedom is inate, and the need for it is incesant. But the confusion arises when we experience fake freedom, one that has an ultimate result of confinement. Real freedom results in the free. So iltimately, we need to find and hold onto the ultimate actions of freedom....interesting...more to come
  ¶ 2:35 PM 1 Comments

  Cigs and Chocolate Milk, yes Rufus At times in my life, I have often been apt to suggest (along with my dearest friendsAndrea) that we should pick up smoking. While the homework thickens, the dance auditions push closer together, the IB dates creak around the corner, and college seems to hit me in the face, my arm often bends at the elbow and out of nowhere my two prominant fingers are pressed against my lips as I inhale on nothing. Ok, so maybe not, but I can't help but imagine how soothing a long cool drag would be. The release of the narcotics into my blood, the rush of hormones through my brain, the throb of my full lungs, the release of my physical tensions and hopefully my mental ones too. Obviously, I oppose smoking whole heartedly and would rather inject rubber into my blood stream than voluntarily release tar into my lung sacks, but still the option remains. Maybe I will just lighten my load instead of dig my early grave. Anyone got a light?
  ¶ 10:33 PM 1 Comments