Living Dead BOY. part one.

The sky was growing dark with the onslaught of a winter storm. I heard the wind outside, but was too busy with my work to surrender to the desire of gazing out of the window. I instead gave my eyes the unelected opportunity to shift over my surroundings. The room was nauseatingly white, every surface was antiseptic in appearance, every surface seemed impersonal and unnatural, and everywhere was the colorless sanitarium, every bit florescent and synthetic. I hated that I felt more like a patient in this place than the person that helped them. Every particle in me wished for something to break the mundane, penetrate this routine that I had seamlessly incorporated into my life. I felt like I just existed, floating by, vaporous, touching everything but leaving no lasting indention of my presence. I never felt as lonely as I did in this room, isolated and trying to find a cure.

It is in this secluded white room that I sit on a stool in my white lab coat, and all encompassed with Petri dishes that watch and record the observations I encounter trying to find a cure for disease. All I do is watch these Z-cells being devoured by the medicine that I inject into them, trying to absolve them of their pestilence. Zombies are for now under quarantine, and until people like me can find a cure there is no hope for them. To be a Zombie currently is considered a disease, but is it really? And how am I really to help these unfortunates if I have never even come in contact with one? I wondered these things aloud as I hung my lab coat on the hook outside the space and locked the door. I was walking to my car, but I didn’t feel right. The wind was still mercilessly, incessantly blowing. I felt as if I was being watched. I felt out of place.

I took a warm shower when I got home. It felt so nice to allow the water to trail on my skin and wash away all of the proof that I was alive today. Sometimes, I wish I could just disappear. I constantly feel like there is no one that understands me. It is ironic that I feel something like a Zombie myself….

I still felt strange when I went to bed that night. I couldn’t tell you if it was legitimate, or if I was just being paranoid. I work alone, and live alone, and hardly speak to anyone. I never wanted to be a recluse, and by definition I’m not, but sometimes I think my imagination talks too much. I closed my eyes on the world and fell asleep soon after. But hours later, I awoke in a cold sweat and that strange feeling was even stronger. I believed to have heard a noise coming from inside my apartment. But quickly talked myself out of it, and tried to go back to sleep. Until I awoke once more, I had hoped that it was just the wind again, or I had just dreamed it. But I hadn’t, because this time I was awake, and still I heard the noise. Someone was in my apartment.

Frozen in fear as I was, I lay as still as possible hoping whatever it was wasn’t there to harm me. But I soon heard footsteps coming down the short hallway to my room. And soon my doorknob was turning slowly, as I watched terrified and paralyzed in my bed. The door opened, and I fainted.

The first thing I remember about waking up was that my room was filled with the light from my bathroom. And the shower was on, the water running hot with the steam filtering through to my bedroom. It took all the courage I could muster to go and look at who it was. Maybe my sister had come to visit? I got up slowly from my place to see who broke into my rooms, as quiet as was humanly possible. I crept to the door, expecting to find my sister’s body, but was instantly frightened to discover that what was in my shower was not related to me in the least. He was tall, and well shaped, a healthy size. His back was turned to me, but I could see through the steam that he had dark hair and sallow skin. Why was he here, in my apartment?

When the water stopped, I practically dove back into my bed, and closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. I listened as he opened the door, and softly spoke aloud to himself, “...where does she keep the towels?” which was soon followed by “oh, there they are.” His voice was nice, like one of a radio personality or a musician. I wasn’t surprised. Most killers seem nice at first.
I kept my right eye a slit open so that it still seemed closed in the darkness. I watched him walk cautiously into my room, and look at me carefully before gingerly seating himself at the foot of my bed. He was covered only around his waist by my burgundy towel, his pallid skin still glistening wet. He was breathing slowly, painfully it seemed. I wanted to reach out to him. I thought he was crying.

I knew that if he had wanted to harm me, he would have by now. So I made a noise like I was sighing, and when I saw him turn around, I fully opened my eyes, slowly as if from a deep sleep. The first thing I noticed when he turned around was that his eyes were a deep blue, and he had dark circles under them, like he wasn’t well. His skin was pale and he had bruises on some parts of his body. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair was a dark brown, like polished sepia. He was beautiful, but looked sick.

“Who are you?” I asked. “My name is Kieran," he said," I’m sorry I followed you here, but I need your help. I’m sick and I fear you are the only one that can be of any help to me. I have not yet been discovered, but I will take any help you can offer. I am infected with the Zombie sickness, and in a matter of days, I will become one. Please, you are my only hope. Without your help, I fear I will most surely die.”

the night before

We stood together at the edge.
I looked down,
and was astonished that my eyes beheld nothing.
Where will we go from here?
A quiet rain fell soft and slow.
It fell upon your face, and stained your clothes.
We kissed as the blood from our mouths ran dark into the leaves at our feet.
Are you there still, waiting as you promised me?
Hold me close, and tell me that this isn’t real; this was never real, as I was never real.
Please, just, close your eyes, and I will avert mine,
and we can have this one last time.
When the cancerous sky swallows itself and the world exhales with the fire inside me…
will you burn alongside, one last time?
Will you follow me into the nocturnal wasteland, adorned with the broken dreams
and the terrified screams of the child that cried?
Will you believe in me, now, with all of the smoke gone and false smiles dissolved?
There are no mirrors here, my dear.
Only our broken figures line the barren expansion…the desolation that longs for something,
outturning us as we searched, we the ones that can feel nothing.
Can you hear me?
I feel transparent so suddenly,
as I am sure my voice is gone, stolen by the freezing wind.
Whispers of transgression left me feeling despised,
but I walked on with you towards our inexorable demise.
You held my hand in the cold, as it desiccated with pain.
I moved ghostlike through the shadows, I was vanishing in the rain.
But you left me there with nothing, well, what else could you have gave?
I was lost without direction, and had no soul left to save.
What else could I do when you spoke your last words to me;
I thought I heard a promise from your broken effigy.
Smiles are rarely found here in this frozen land beyond the sea,
but the dead show little effort as they waste away with me.

there, some of my own poetry. a gift for you.

"may the great spirit always be with you"

i was dragging down the hallway today after AP ART class, not because i was unproductive, but because i had had time to seriously contemplate absolutely nothing, although it was mostly the fact that i had to stay after for Physics. it was the first time i have actually gotten completely enthralled in what i was doing in there because Taylor was taking a cat nap, and the Todd was speaking in hushed tones to AWalker. i thought i would leave them be. anyway, i was walking down the hallway, and Ms.Clancy was standing outside of her door. well, we began talking, and she mentioned how my artwork of a Native girl resembled me. and then i told her of how my Great Grandmother was full blooded Cherokee, and she said that we could be cousins. i laughed, but then i realized that Clancy would make a wonderful relative. she was very exited to learn of my heritage, an that it was so close in lineage. it all lead me to the ultimate thought of the fact that "my Christmas will not be quite so merry if Santa Claus does not leave me those moccasins and that satchel." and that is exactly what i said to mother.

Happy Hanukkah, readers.well, whats left of it anyway.

zombies

find the cure. its happening soon.

Hast du eine Idee?

so if anyone who reads this blog enjoyed my previous romantic interlude and would like to revel in another this holiday season, i will write whatever you suggest. leave me a comment on this blog entry, and i will elaborate based on YOUR fantasy this time. like a romance novel specifically written with you in mind, because you will be. if only everything was written that way...

anywhosen. leave your wishes in a comment. and prepare for pleasure. i feel dirty for saying that. maybe i will delete it. maybe not. i'm feeling lucky. how about you?

Harlequin mini Romance #1: Baroque Beauty

it seems that i was all at once immediately aware that my eyes were closed. i felt that soft feeling of sunlight gently kissing my eyelids. the winter breeze softly played on my eyelashes, a window was open somewhere, inviting nature into this place. i cannot recall where i am, but amazingly i feel an all encompassing safeness. i felt the urge to open my eyes, and take in the vision of my surroundings, but i wanted to let the other senses work their magic on my all too ready imagination. there was a faint scent of incense in the cold air, rich and burnt and woody. i imagined the smoke circling in the air and being carried by that cold breeze from the window, mixing the smell of a natural winter with musky sandalwood. there were candles burning, i could tell they were vanilla. and a fire was in the fireplace, i could here the wood crackling deliciously. the air tasted clean, due in part to the windows, it brought to my mind the vision of an old library, where the air has a slight twinge of dust, but before it becomes stagnant. and then it seems i was immediately brought to a start with the realization that there was someone else in the room. i could hear them breathing.

i opened my eyes to a room splendid with wealth and flooded with light. indeed there were floor length windows, open halfway to the winter chill, draped in a gold stitched tapestry reminiscent of 18th century Versailles. the room was a vast expanse of gold leafing and cherubs. smiling and round, they blushed all over the ceiling as they peered onto the scene. i found myself on a bed, draped expensively with red velvet bedclothes and satin sheets of crimson. the pillows were embellished with Venetian lace, intricate and extravagant. i blushed to think of how expensive it all was when i leaned back to glimpse the carved headboard, complete with kissing swans and roses. once the recognition that i was not alone came back to me, i was resolute on finding the phantom that held me here against my memory's hold.

i scanned the expensive furnishings for any sign of life, until i finally found him in the corner adjacent to my perch, lounging like some Adonis on a daybed. brilliant and seemingly naked, he was beautiful and smiling, his lower half draped with the same color as was on the bed, his hand absently lingering near his head on the pillow. i fancied him one of Botticelli's angels, blushing and corporeal, his luxuriant ebony curls gleaming with Heavenly light. his Alabaster chest heaved slightly with faint breath. his eyelashes gently caressed his cheekbones, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was plagued with troubled dreams. his lips were parted, as if whispering sweet entreaties of loveliness with his sighs. i realized i moved when he opened his eyes with the sound.

i gasped when his eyes met my own, they were a color of green that was quite unexpected. they were brilliant and bright, the springtime captured in human beauty. he smiled at me as if we were lovers, as if i had known him completely for half a lifetime. he spoke my name, his voice filled to overflowing with an angelic cadence, as if the Archangel Michael himself were speaking to me. he got up slowly from his place in the corner of the room. and all at once i remembered everything. he walked towards me, anticipating every step as if his very life depended on it. my eyes wide, i took in his every inch as he came towards me. he was pefect and idyllic, his soft hand on the side of my face in an instant, i closed my eyes to his touch. warm and cold at the same time, he did not seem real to me. his free hand entwined itself in my hair, pulling me closer to his lips. before his soft mouth graced mine, i breathed his name, though i had only just remembered it. his eyes wide, he swallowed my soul with one glance, with a sigh he whispered, "meus diligo, meus angelus, vereor non, exsisto etiam."

at these words i was lost to him, and knew nothing else of the world lest it be lost in his arms with me.



"my love, my angel, fear not, be still."

Neues Gedichten.

so, i was struck with an epiphany. fueled with inspiration from Vicky, i am going to publish miniature Harlequin romances through my blog. and it will be sehr sehr toll.

so which team are you?

alright, so it seems that there is a lot of animosity that goes along with the Twilight saga. apparently, everyone and their mother, and their grandmother for that matter (since even Oprah advocates the series now....) feels the need to choose a side. i have read all of the novels, in fact, i read them before, yes before they were so popular. and i have to be honest with you, my darlings, i always had a soft spot for....JACOB. sure, he can get a little whiny sometimes, but then again, every wolf whines sometime.

i know, i know, you are aghast. well, i was procrastinating for a while, i was scared to see the film because i knew what would happen to my favorite. i just always hated how pathetic Bella was, how at one mention of Ed's name she scorns Jacob even though she had been stringing him along during the entire novel. and then she expects everything to be okay, for it all to go back to normal, like he does not have any feelings worthy of her acknowledgment. i always felt sorry for Jacob. everyone feels sorry for the rebound guy, right?

i feel like such the slacker for blogging about this of all topics. but the movie did entertain me. even if i hate the commercial Parthenon that Twilight has become, i must admit that it is kind of enthralling to witness all of your mental images while reading these books come to pass infront of you. the movie was great. so why am i STILL team Jacob?

because:
-he always keeps his word, he never makes a promise he doesn't keep.
-as a naturally COLD person, i prefer to be coaxed to warmth.
-he respects boundaries, like, not staring at you in your sleep which i NEVER found "romantic."
-sorry Edward, but i would much rather have a pack of gigantic Native American wolves behind me.
-with Jacob, there is no secret society of ancients to be scared of, who are ready and waiting for any reason to kill you.
-i would never have to hide myself from my family, because i would not have to change some aspect of myself in order to be with him. seeming as with Ed, one has to change species to be truly happy.
-he breaks the rules, doesn't hide behind them.
-he is patient, and doesn't talk about committing suicide all of the time, or how i am "his only reason for living..."
ugh, gag me. please, he lived for 109 years perfectly fine and angsty.
-he is reliable, trust worthy, naturally kind, and helpful.
-he doesn't lie to your face, leave without reason, then try to kill himself when he finds out that you have moved on.
-he won't try to run your life and make your decisions for you.
-he doesn't weep, he gets angry, and he gets even.
-and so on. and so on.

hahaha, Happy Thanksgiving dear bloggers. on my list of things to be thankful for.....?
freedom of speech. tschau freunden.

i'm meghanN

I'M COOL. I'M ON CAPS LOCK now i am not.

kenesthesis

today fellow bloggers was well worth waking up for in some aspects. i did not feel as though i would make it through the day without my brain liquidating itself, however, when i was making myself ready for the school day with the knowledge that i would not one, no not one, but 2 quizzes, and a test in Psych. it was something to write home about that is for sure. it racked my brain that is a definite...sehr sehr trauig.

but once i got through government, seeming as i had not done my homework, heavy sighs, i made it to art and Nate the Great massaged me. in a not sexual way...groan.

oh and then i was able to spend some much needed bonding time with my Coggs and Vicky. it was a pleasure. and we went to plaza for some much deserved salsa and guacamole. so now i sit here in a home that is not my own, and type this slowly affectious excuse of a blog hoping it brings some sort of closure to the day and document to my mundane life. i speak of tests and tortilla chips while the masses labor over stronger subjects of lifetime ordeals. but my dear readers, i hope to offer this piece of myself as an uplifting moment in time where you can laugh at how humorous and ordinary it is to be just me.

have a happy tuesday. ciao bella.

synesthesia

so the party at the Todd's was tres magnifique. {do you feel enriched?}

it felt so wonderful to spend some much needed time with my Heinerkraut. i love her so and it is hard to have her away... i constantly go to sleep missing her terribly. i find myself wanting to tell her all of these random things, but i only see her, like, once or twice a month. but i am so proud of her, and she is so beautiful, and i wish i had a phone so that i could talk to her daily. and not just through messages via computers.

anyway, Hayley's party was grand. i am so glad she liked the necklaces i bought for her. hopefully she doesn't find them missing when her sister leaves for vcu. ahaha, that would be funny. the fire was gorgeous, and the chips were nice. i was greeted warmly by mama Todd, and assured that the beans were vegan. too bad i wasnt hungry until later... anyway. it felt so nice to be back in my second home. i love being there. that family is so good to me, and i feel so welcomed.

hopefully the weather is nice tomorrow so that i can walk in Williamsburg, get my exercise and revel in the warmth of my apple cider. and maybe while i am there i will visit the bookstore and pick up some poetry. but i cannot forget to stop by the mall and pay a visit to my ever faithful hot topic and admire Davey Havok's newly 34 year old face.

and now i finally have a facebook. so there you go, faithful blog readers. have a great weekend.

blow me away.

so the monsoon is still raging outside. and apparently it is not lightening any time soon. so i am stuck in my house since school is cancelled tomorrow (praise be to the gods.) i mean, come on newport news! honestly, did you really think it at all possible for school NOT to be cancelled? it is a national emergency out there, people are loosing their homes! and it seems it takes trees falling over onto the school buses, or someone dieing, or the school itself being washed away in order to close the school. but i digress. the whole system is in the gutter anyway. might as well cover it with dead leaves and slowly back away after it was kicked a few times. we can come back later and poke it with a stick to make sure it is dead, if you wish.

anyway, so i wanted everyone to know i am still alive. haha. not that this is adequate proof...but for those that care, this blogger will continue on. i faced the rhino in the sky today. and James was right. maybe i need a giant peach fully loaded with insects and fly away. but just my luck i would end up in Asia and a real monsoon would ensue. i sincerely hope i made you laugh, my dearest readers. laughing is very important in times such as these. hopefully my house doesn't float away into the night.

love to all. adieu.

city life in retrospection.

she was a ten dollar hooker. a girl without a name, sitting on the curb of a strip mall, blazing with flickering red neon lights. the electric drone of the chemical light mixed with the dead air, and stagnated somewhere with the sound of cars on the busy street, stained with oil and dirt. a cacophony of sleazy city instruments. the light played on her hair and was suggestive of Walmart dye jobs. a box set marked half off sticker price because it was discontinued. but she didn't care. cover up the past and wash it down the drain. that's what her life was. she wished she could be half as happy as the girls on those boxes. she pulled at the thin jean jacket she had on. her shoes were untied, and her shirt was a size too small. but the air was warm enough not to sting. and that's all that mattered to her. an old woman walked down the sidewalk. she carried a brown paper bag of groceries, with a slight tear on one side. she wasn't in a hurry, but it was 9:45 and she didn't like to be in this part of town after dark. her lips were a thin line of drugstore red lipstick, bright and unnatural, it was slightly smeared on one side. you could see the wrinkles that graced her mouth from smiling so often in her youth, and they kissed at the sides of her eyes softly. she held cigarettes in her left hand, and a book of matches was visible from the lid of the carton. she wore a bright flower print that was almost obnoxious against this setting. she deserves to be somewhere other than here. somewhere else. she handed the hooker a generous amount of cash with a kind smile and a "Jesus saves." the hooker gladly took the money, but muttered under her breath that God didn't exist. "where was He last night then?" the old woman dropped her keys, but the hooker did not offer any help as she left her place on the curb and walked on. there was a man in the alleyway, his face would lighten and darken simultaneously with the sign in the dry cleaner's window. he was smoking a cigarette and watching a young woman in the laundromat across the street as she folded her clothes. she seemed to be deep in thought as she folded her perfectly white shirt into a clean square under the bright florescent lights. her face seemed pensive, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips slightly pursed, though otherwise she was quite beautiful and gentle in countenance. he smoked slowly and admired her youthful shape. she was just worrying over her college exams while her blue jeans dried. the man was fingering a dime in his pocket, wondering if he should offer it to her because her machine ran out of coin but her clothes were left still damp. the hooker walked down the alleyway, hoping that her luck would change soon or she would be left out of an apartment with no where to go. work was slow, but the man who wanted the rent wasn't so languid. she wished she didn't waste all of her time on men who only pretended to care, and left her for dead. at least for a few minutes each night she could pretend one of them actually cared about her. she asked the man for some money to buy some groceries. she told him she hadn't eaten in days. but she knew that she had enough money in her pocket to feed herself. food was not what she really wanted. he told her he didn't have any cash, but instead offered her a small package. more drugs. she excepted and told him with a cheap smile she would repay him, but he wasn't looking for her kind of currency. the old woman listened to a gospel radio station as she drove home. the man walked to the laundromat, but realized later that the young woman had gone. she went home with her clean clothes smelling of mint chewing gum and fabric softener. the hooker returned to her perch on the curb of the strip mall, on the dusty sidewalk where many have walked day after day. where she sits night after night, hoping someone will care enough to take her home, scanning the expanse of the littered parking lot for an honest escape. she looked like at one time she might have been someone. and wrinkles softly kissed her eyes.

broken windows.

it goes without saying that Mr.Laske made my day perfect today. i believe i smiled so largely that my face might have torn itself in half if it were possible. anyway. i have work to do, and plenty of it. a plethora of English papers are spread before me as we, well i, speak. but i cannot bring myself to them yet. i felt like writing something, but i had no idea what. and i have a wealth of time to complete said assignments anyway. i have just felt like writing today. i wrote a prose piece in Trigonometry today. its a bit long, but i think i can post it after this.

today was wonderful, even though even in the beginning i was a bit skeptical, because nothing was going according to plan. but all is well. maybe it had something to do with the weather. who knows. and now i think i will post my prose piece. perhaps it will be enjoyed.

physics is for the maleficient.

it is a fact universally acknowledged that a person who takes physics will one day want to commit an act of self sacrifice. i loathe mathematics. so why did i take an applied science? because i refuse to dissect. being that it is against my moral code. and haha, Kohlberg would say that is because i am in the postconventional stage of moral development. because i question authority. haha. seriously, though, physics gods, if you can hear me, can you please, please HELP? okay, thanks, that would be great. when i get my ankh tattoo, oh physics gods, i will dedicate it to you, dear ones.

nominus patre, nominus sante, nominus.....

english major's are one of a kind.

i am tired, and about to go to sleep. but it is Friday now. which means the start of my official A Fire Inside weekend will be celebrated today. i am so beyond excited. i will be sure to post all of the details of Monday's concert. Mrs. Traner called me a genius today, and gave me a head start on the next reading by giving me my book after school before it was even assigned. she just let me take a copy right off the shelf in her office. i felt so special, like i helped her choose which work we were going to study because she asked for my input on whether we should read it or not. and i loved it so i said "of course!" ha ha. so, its on!

and apparently, Mr.Laske told my mom he misses not having me in any of his classes terribly. and i miss him too. it is strange how attached you become to a teacher after you have had them for 2 years consecutively and then suddenly not at all. i will make it a point to visit him before school is over, although, tomorrow i will be so sonambulant.

oh yes.

and an update on that party i had to go to for my uncle. ahaha, funny story. i stayed for about an hour, and upon arrival was scared out of my mind when i was engulfed by all of these strangers from their church. and of course i was wearing all black, and they consequently looked down their noses at me like i was nephilim or Satan or something...

all of the "salads" that they had were soaked through with trans fats and cholesterol, because i could not find anything that was void of some type of pork product. what is so "salad" about a pile of meat and sauce on a leaf? no idea. but i digress. so then i just decided i would get a beverage. and that was also a challenge because all they had was soda. and i don't drink soda. so i had some tea, after being called difficult by my adoring cousin. and being harassed by church goers who were ironically enough blowing their beer breath in my face the whole hour and something i was there. apparently, it is a sin to be vegan because you "must try everything at least once." and of course, there was 4 different kinds of pasta salad, but all of them had these vital ingredients. egg mayonnaise and swine. lemon lemon lemon.

while i was waiting for my friend Elaina to call so that i had an excuse to leave, everyone else was waiting on the chicken. mind you, there were at lest 25 people there. or more. but when the chicken was brought to the table, i felt like i was watching a sacrifice to the heathen gods take place. there were so many carcasses, i thought they had staged a heist at the Purdue plant. like an entire walmart had been robbed of its poultry. i kid you not, it was insane. there must have been 2 pigs and 40 chickens murdered for their carnivorous feast. it was awful, and the smell was nauseating. and all i could eat the whole time i was there was bread and strawberries. i kid you not. and i was accosted the whole time.

reasons why i dont go to church #539: the people judge my lifestyle while they get drunk at a party and murder helpless animals in a wasteful manner.

no sir.

A Fire Inside.

i know i said my next post would be an analysis on normalism. but it will have to wait, because i have been listening to my afi cd nonstop for 2 days and find it quite amazing and just had to share. i am so excited to see them in less than two weeks, and to be honest, i know it is going to be so surreal. i have loved this band for 5 years, maybe even 6, i cannot recall. and i did not have the opprotunity to see them when they came 4 years ago on the decemberunderground tour. so now, i am pretty much scared that because i have anticipated this event for 4 years, when it is over....i will have nothing left to look forward too. (which isnt true at all, because there is halloween, then the holidays, then the H.I.M cd will release, and they will tour, then graduation, and my tattoos.) so i mean, i do have things to look forward too. but this is going to be beyond epic. and i dont care what the hell these "critics" say about afi finally selling out. they said that when decemberunderground came out too. its just because the band is moving constantly forward, and forever changing their sound. you cant wear the same expression all of the time. i dont care if years from now they have evolved so much that they start playing their music in Limited Too's, i will always support my favorite band. davey havok is my own personal john lennon. and no, that does not mean i am going to worship catcher in the rye and then shoot him. even though i have loved that book since 9th grade, i could never want davey dead. haha, more later.

sing for me.

i was searching for inspiration. and usually when forced to, i look towards music. but then the rain started to fall. and i said to myself, now i can sleep. and i promised myself that i would go to sleep before this time, and i am now going to fall asleep in Psychology with dreams of Frankenstein, and innate fear of going to a surprise birthday party for my uncle. my aunt who just so happens to be one of my very best friends, informed me that my grandmother was going to make deviled eggs just so that i would have something there that i could eat. because you see, unfortunately, my uncle is a strict carnivore, and obviously, that is not conducive to my lifestyle. and i have not yet had the opportunity to tell my grandmother that i am vegan, even though i have been for a month now. and so.....that's my life. really i do not have that much to worry about i guess. except starving. but they should have bread, right? and water? inmate status.

and i know, i know, Meghann, this is so mundane and unimportant. go forth to your resting place. well, my reply to that is: every one's life is mundane unless it means something to you, and if i thought this post was anti-climactic, mon dieu, you must be gauging out your eyes with dull pencils by now. oh, oh, Oedipus. libre me.

here's something to anticipate....my next blog will be exploring the real definition of the word NORMAL. that should strike your fancy, correct? i promise the diction will be much more refined than my midnight absent mindedness. forgive me. adieu, aesthetes.

Dead Humor

originally posted: Thursday, September 3, 2009


Its a strange thing when you get so close to one person, so close in fact that it feels like it would be impossible to be away from them, or that if they were to leave you it would be like cutting off a vital blood supply to your heart. It feels like you could never be as close to anyone else as you are to that one person, it would be inconceivable to even try to imagine yourself with someone else. It is almost painful, that closeness. And it is also exquisite. But the most shocking pain is when that person really does leave you, and you are faced with the brutal reality of having to learn to live again, on your own. And if that brutal attack on the senses was not enough on its own, soon after that they want all of thier things back, and you start to realize just how much you gave them and just how much the fact that you no longer have that connection with them is going to hurt for a long time. After that they delete your pictures from their myspace, and terminate your friend status. And a few months pass by, and by then you see the new pictures of them and thier new someone. And you are surprised. Because it doesnt hurt at all to see them happy. In fact, a slow smile creeps silently over your features. And you realize the impossible...all those tears, and all those screams, were worthless. Because life goes on, and people move on, and the heart heals itsself. And you are amazed with yourself, because you can be happy for the one person that let you down more than anyone ever has before, and your only wish is that you could tell them congratulations on their newfound happiness.

But life doesnt work that way.

secret gardens.

i was walking through the streets of Williamsburg, particularly along the campus of William and Mary college the day before and i must admit i found it quite inspirational. the well worn brick walk ways and the gently swept courtyards were so beautiful i found myself compelled to walk on in search for more hidden treasures. even though the wind began to stir after the twilight deepened, i kept on in my search. i chanced upon a clandestine cemetery, perfectly apart and yet completely a whole of the school, and i thought to myself how romantic an idea that these students can everyday pass here and witness this beautiful testament to knowledge and intellect! it was so beautiful there, and even as i regretted the fact that the local Starbucks was out of soy, i found the crisp air refreshing and welcomed my walk deep into the evening. the leaves are starting to change colors there, and i found it so inspiring to sit on a worn bench under one of the most beautifully unique trees i have ever seen. it was most apparently ancient, with tall sweeping branches, and a gloriously twisted trunk. and i found that i could last here forever, only on the soul happiness of these little secret places! what a joy that little walk through the historic area was, as it always is! i have no idea why i do not live there myself!

Death of the Seasons

One of the most perplexing things about the end of summer, is that one has so much time to just stop and think. As I was sitting with my soy Latte outside today, the richly dark taste of my delicious vegan chocolate bar still lingering on my tongue, I found myself ignoring my worn copy of Frankenstein, and just watching the season slowly melt. The slight breeze that was dancing on my skin had that bitter twinge of cold that carries the leaves from the trees, and I was pleasantly surprised at the involuntary chill that ran through my blood. I have always found Autumn and Winter to be the most beautiful of seasons. The leaves are drenched in blood stained hues, that fall like burned love letters, a bittersweet farewell. The softly chilling breezes serving as a sorrowful last kiss. I have always longed for the sweet, heavy scent that is all encompassing during Autumn, the faint scent of death...wilt, and decay, a funeral pyre of the faded portrait of summer. There is nothing else like it in the world. The scent of winter is clean and stifling, and fills the lungs to overflowing with something like satin, cold and silken. It offers me something much more than the warming comfort of velvet Autumn, it calls to my soul of a beautiful watercolor in greys and shadows, and sings to me of a promise of redemption.

It seems that the soft fog that emanates from the winter sighs of parted lips is just a gentle character beseeching for a slight glimpse of the favor people shower on the warm embrace of the sun.