August (A Potential French Class)

•August 9, 2012 • Leave a Comment


A New Location

•March 7, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Hey, if you’re reading this blog! it took me a very long time to post anything here, so I got bored and just established a new one. I regret to put my short lived, leaky little project to death, but the new little project has a much shorter name, and less leaky design. (Also, I like the colors better, though it’s not finished yet… ūüėČ Interior decorating is still not my strong suit.) So if you’re following this, and want to read anything from me, you should switch to following the other one. It’s pretty much the same thing, so…. ha ha, I think I’ve established the redundancy well enough.

(The name means little)




In the view of my short story

•November 5, 2011 • Leave a Comment

As stated as a poem am I!

So, strung up like a wire.

It tears into my skin, so

as to turn my heart to fire.

Don’t state me, as a poem is lied.

I’d rather be an unsaid song.

My statement isn’t even real.

It doesn’t trail along.

We’re in the city for a while

to find some jewels inside the bile.

Your city isn’t mine, my dear

though I’d see mine inside your smile.

Not like the string of a guitar

but as a string of floating thread

your heart, blindfolded, reaches out

and runs through my ear to my head.

Don’t sing, don’t rhyme, don’t be a thing!

You are to me a wing unsought

that lifts me up into the stars

to find that they’re just painted spots:

A lie that I had known was there.

I’d been up there before, my dear!

Yet in a moment I ascend.

through you an instant turns unclear.

The time that follows.

oh, what time?

that time that doesn’t follow rhyme

that fills with what I wanted not,

that I avoid. I haven’t sought

a single instant in the air,

a glance aside, your eyes, your hair.

And yet it follows me into there!

I don’t want this.

this pseudo air!

The perfume turns a vacant stare

and sends me out into the cold

there isn’t reason to be bold.

I wish that I had not been there.

I wish you hadn’t had that stare.

For I’m a monster in the air.

A Tiny Tidbit of Verse

•March 15, 2011 • 4 Comments

Hello, all of you reading. I felt like writing a minute ago, and this came out of my head. Not a full post at all, but maybe you’ll like it a bit.

I looked out on the sea one day,

and sought for me a sign

of all the days I’d dreamed of¬†naught,

for all my wasted time.


The gray and white of ocean foam,

against which the sun fought,

unheeded by me passed the way,

and still I sought and sought


Soon in my heart I knew they were

dissolved into the air.

And yet I ran my hands through that,

through emptiness’s hair.


Then from an impulse, or from time,

a strength sprung from the naught.

The nothing was exhilarating,

filling me with thought:


To state in passing¬†“time is short”

is understating fact.

Our time here’s so laconic,

and our hourglass is cracked.

Our dreams of young and happy times,

are shadows on a wall.

We neither know nor comprehend,

the vastness of the call.


So will we focus all our time,

and lend our ears to hear,

the call that urges us to wisdom

to look for more passed years?


Those were the circulating thoughts.

They whispered in my head.

What a chord they struck inside,

and what a line they lead.

On True Dedication and Chocolate Covered Popcorn.

•March 6, 2011 • 1 Comment

Hello all.

So last night I saw something that amused me greatly.

To start off: I was eating a midnight snack of chocolate ice cream mixed with popcorn.

I wish I were joking.

This is not the aforementioned amusing factor, however, oh no. Whilst eating, I chanced to gaze upon the package from whence the popcorn had come. And I mean¬†gaze. Often we look at packages before we take what is inside them (unless you are so very talented that you have surpassed the need, or cannot see), but if you’re like me, we seldom study the box or bag (breakfast cereal being omitted). What first caught my eye were the words “AIR POPPED!” on the front. These were red and outlined in white, so even if I had not been intently studying, they probably would have been apparent to me.

Now, the words perplexed me at first, as I had no previous knowledge concerning the manufacturing of popcorn. I have since looked it up, and have now been enlightened. So the words are not as perplexing today, have no fear.

What amused me so much was nestled on the dorsal side of the bag. Alongside was a picture of an Amish horse and buggy. I have absolutely no doubt it was transporting popcorn.

If you look closely, you might see Orville Redenbaucher.

And beside that was a descriptive essay on how choice this particular popcorn was. I will not use a direct quote, as I do not wish to hurt the feelings of whomever wrote it. (You notice I did not mention the particular brand. And I don’t mean to say this popcorn wasn’t good. Though honestly, smothered in chocolate peanut butter cup ice cream, popcorn is popcorn.) It spoke of the necessity to “air pop” popcorn, so it held a crisp taste. This made sense. It then spoke of the luscious butter, which again, made sense. But afterwards, it described how they chose the ingredients:

Drawing inspiration from our surroundings, we search through the fields to pick only the sweetest kernels of corn to put into our delicious air popped popcorn.

Ha ha, I have no doubt you do.

But seriously. How in the world do they go about this? Do they just rush into the fields, nibbling on different cobs? Is that legal? And inspiration from their surroundings?  Like what? The corn? I decided that they had merely mixed up the word inspiration with ingredients. Still, that left the actual harvesting, a system which I now had no doubt was extremely intricate. Yes, my friends, this popcorn manufacturer was certainly dedicated. I almost felt bad smothering his product in chocolate.

Almost. I mean, really. LOOK AT IT.

This system still confuses me. I hope to one day see it in action, the many workers carrying baskets of corn, in a phalanx formation, sweeping through the fields of what I assume is Lancaster County, and chewing on random cobs. The legality may be questionable. On that day, however, I will have seen true dedication.

Ha ha, this one was random, but I hope maybe it made you laugh. This isn’t going to be an all chuckles blog, but chuckles and their many companions are a valuable part of life. Thanks for reading.


My first post: Why I will never become a professional decorator.

•December 22, 2010 • 2 Comments

Hello all.

When faced with the problem called indecision, the greatest fear is often that you will be asked to describe it. Multiple possible adjectives spring like rejected alley cats into your mind, and for yourself the quality of kitty is a redundant factor. You are the equivalent of a passive humane league mediator. But you realize that whomever desires the adjective is looking for a well groomed Maine Coon.  (This would lead me personally to believe that your targeted adopter is from the actual state of Maine, as it is, as you might assume tentatively, the official state cat. I was previously unaware that we had state cats in the United States, but this breed has enlightened me. Thank you, Maine Coon.)

Back to indecision: I was in the process of putting together this blog, when out of nowhere, a topic that has seldom come to my attention suddenly did so. This topic is called color coding. Now, I know that in order to go out in public and look initially pleasing to the eye, you must have a basic eye for matching color. This is a human characteristic that most have by default, given to us by God. (Those of you that do not have this, likely have some other significant skill set  to make up the empty space in your closet wherein matching shirts might lurk.) But faced with the problem of what background to give this site, I was left blank. What would best suit the impression the writing might give off? I thought. Blue? Black? Cream? Perhaps maroon? Maroon Five… what was the reason for that name? To me that implies a rip off of the Blue Men Group, or perhaps a Native American band actually comprised of four men and a tribe spirit… Only the music would probably be a heady mixture of Dub Step and 80′s hair metal…. I think I might actually listen to that! Yeah, that sounds tight! I should look it up- oh, wait, did I come up with that myself?…

And so it would go on. After virtually five minutes of staring at a screen (and looking up fictional bands on Google), I decided that I was being stupid. And so I was. A simple task, one that probably should take minutes, and yet when I am asked to pick out a color (abackground color) I come up with nothing. It is for this reason that I will never become a professional decorator, my friends. Colors are scary things under the right conditions. When handling, always use gloves. And never corner one. You will get a face full of tint and shading.

Thank you sincerely for reading my very first blog, and I hope the color pleases you. (It’s an ocean now).