|
[15 Jan 2010|10:33am] |
|
Cringing, I plunge more than half my arm into a sink filled with carrot-colored, opaque water. My hand swims through layers of slime, slop and sludge as I dive for forks, knives, and spoons. Glove-less, I feel around to recover what will be the next batch to fill the dishwasher. With my apron already soaked half way into my shift, I hear orders ring in every direction by ego-driven chefs for fresh hot pans. So I follow orders and stay huddled in the steam-filled corner for several more hours until those gruesome sinks are shining again. By then, just a few of the kitchen staff are lingering behind. I say good night and part ways with my faithful dish washing metal friend long enough to get a good nights sleep. Exiting through the heavy kitchen doors and entering the real world is a breath of fresh air. The crisp air hits me hard and the hostility of my whole days work is immediately forgotten. Still covered in food filth, I walk home through mountains abundant with animals, trees, and rivers.
|
|
|
[08 Jan 2010|05:43pm] |
|
|
|
[01 Jan 2010|02:17pm] |
|
|
|
[15 Dec 2009|10:25pm] |
Dear you,
what to say, what to say... Boise is an adventure within itself. it's funny to think that you've lived at a place for all of your life (or most of it) and still haven't experienced some of the things that it's worth. one of my good friends, sara, left town yesterday to move to new york city with her friend faith. growing up here I've had many friends leave and I'm used to the notion. in fact I think every time it happens, it hurts a little less. sara was one of those friends I could tell any secret to and have it be safe, you know? Good people are few and far between, and getting to know them so closely is even less of a chance. I feel like the friends I've kept are for a reason. I'm not a fan of people, in fact I hate most of them.. so finding the ones that i truly connect with is something special. and now I'm finding that all of them are in different states scattered across the country... Most of the time I'll shove this fact into the back of my mind and pretend that everything is okay. but I only live for a few things and one of them is finding and appreciating the beautiful people that life has to offer. I feel like I've found the special ones that inspire me and have changed me for the better. but at the same time, realizing how young i am, makes me feel like that's such a naive thing to say... Long story short, I miss my best friends.. I miss the closeness and the security and the love that they've always provided. Sure, we're still good friends even being so far apart. but I just feel so much nostalgia these days. I constantly wish everything was the way it was before- when everyone was still in Boise, and things were simple, and love was a joke, and friendship meant everything- it even came before boys. I don't know exactly when I turned into an adult, but I almost don't believe it. today I found a quote from an old journal that said "life is just living." sounds dumb, but it's so true, right? life itself is simple, but we as humans are the ones that make it complicated....
in other, lighter news... the more I think about Alaska the more I miss it. thinking about working at KPL again makes me anxious, but everything is worth a second chance. It seems like I never know whats ahead of me, but that's my favorite thing of all...
Talk to you soon,
Virginia
|
|
|
[15 Dec 2009|09:23pm] |
( +++ )
|
|
|
[01 Nov 2009|08:02pm] |
|
Oh, my darling, what happened to you? How could you forget about those long nights, far far away from society, counting an endless number of meteors? How could you forget making all of those magical wishes you knew wouldn't come true but dreamt up anyway? Or what about conquering those mountains that were taller than God? What about laying in the middle of that field during the biggest thunderstorm you had ever encountered, being convinced that night would be end of the world, yet somehow still waking up the next morning? Did you forget about those times when your favorite song would start playing right as a gush of wind dashed by? What about watching the trees dance with the sunshine in that beautiful, crisp morning light? Those times when you believed in something more than just what was in front of you.
|
|
|
[14 Aug 2009|02:05pm] |
“The traveler was active; he went strenuously in search of people, of adventure, of experience. The tourist is passive; he expects interesting things to happen to him. He goes “sightseeing.”
— Daniel J. Boorstin, 1961
|
|
|
[31 Jul 2009|12:36pm] |
|
|
|
[21 Jul 2009|12:33pm] |
|
My search is over. The metaphysical questions have all been answered. Every aspect of my being is always right there in front of me. I am my lipstick, my lotion, my jeans, my condoms, my condiments- a thousand points of light that shine brighter than the stars. God is dead, but I'm more alive than ever. My cream is exactly me.
|
|
|
[30 Oct 2008|04:46pm] |
|
|
|
[25 Aug 2008|11:43am] |
The roads were worn with strings of weeds popping out of every crack between the cement and dirt. The trees hung like curtains over the road, letting only enough sunshine through to create an everlasting glow on every leaf. All of the space between myself, the road and the plants was filled with an earthy aroma. Small white flowers would casually but elegantly fall from the trees and float very slowly down to my feet, creating a summer snowfall. A small gust of wind throws my hair in my face and without thought I realize that my feet are pushing me forward. I run straight and steady, not away from something but toward something. The road slowly disappears and there are trees in every direction. I keep running. The path is created for me and by me with every new step. My off-white dress is now filled with air and my feet are no longer touching the ground. I don't have to look down to realize that my full body is floating. I am still moving forward and the only thing my feet are touching is air. The dress plays the role of my wings. The sun winks at me through spaces between branches and leaves. I breathe in the summer soaked air and my body and lungs are filled with euphoria.
|
|
|
[23 Jun 2008|03:16pm] |
|
street lights green, all signs go. my legs wrap around your waste and my hands too quickly cling tightly to your clothes..
|
|
|
[26 May 2008|02:43pm] |
my walls are filled with pictures
of all the places I've been
and all the places I wish I were,
all the people I've seen
and next to them
the people I've yet to meet.
I live through these photos
which is quite pathetic
but it gives me the room to dream.
It gives me room to breathe
when I am waiting for the time to pass
between the past and the future.
so i sit in the natural light of my room
and draw pictures of oceans and skies
and all of the places I know I'll never see
except when I am dreaming.
And I'll continue to sit and watch
the dead flowers rotting
in the corner of the room
and the empty packs of cigarettes
shoved behind the bookshelf
full of books I've never read.
The leaves hanging from the trees outside
cast a swaying shadow on my floor
and I'll follow it with my eyes
until the sun steals the shadow
and retires for the night
as I return to dreaming.
|
|
|
[03 Jan 2008|10:49pm] |
Tonight the winter wind was different. It had a freezing temperature but the feel of an inspiring summer breeze. I sat on the closest bench I could find, with my head in my hands and the only thing I wanted was to run. I don't know where to or for how long, I just wanted the momentum of speed to pass through my body. And I remembered when I was younger and I would hear all of the love songs on the radio and how badly I wished I had someone to feel them for. And now I wish there was no one at all to feel for.
I think about all the things I was and all the things I could be and how right now I am nothing but stuck in the middle ground with no idea why. I'm beginning to think that the inspiring people I've met were the change in me, but now they are gone and replaced by winter's cold. Except for tonight; there was a chill and there were answers. If I know there is more than this and have experienced it, why then have I trapped myself in the present?
|
|
| funny |
[26 Oct 2007|01:10am] |
|
how some of you can own the world and still want more and others of you are spending the last of your quarters and nickels and pennies to buy a bag of Top tobacco only to then ride off on your found bike in winter's cold. and i am neither of these things. just a simple observer who expects too much of myself and the rest of the world. i am an ant with elephant sized dreams.
|
|
|
[19 Sep 2007|11:53pm] |
|
Suppose a child is born devoid of all senses; he has no sight, no hearing, no touch, no smell, no taste-- nothing. There's no way whatsoever for him to receive any sensations from the outside world. And suppose this child is fed intravenously and otherwise attended to and kept alive for eighteen years in this state of existence. The question is then asked: Does this eighteen-year-old person have a thought in his head? If so, where does it come from? How does he get it?
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
bl00dysunday's journal
