RANDOM

So I just heard of another marriage. These people just graduated from college. I'll be that age in a few years. My brother is engaged and I'll be his age in five years. It's just weird because I know I'm not going to be anywhere near that in half a decade.

It's crazy to see these people together so young and so in love. I don't quite understand how it happened. They were very lucky. They were very skilled. They had the right chance. It's crazy.

RANDOM

Differences Reprise

You and I
Often see eye to eye
Yet a different tone pervades.

Where one is a dreamer
A lover and a wisher,
The other is in love
With truth and no other.

Yet both reach an understanding
Halfway they are met
The near impossibility of love
And the rewards one could reap.

Two sides of the same coin
With the same convictions
But different attitudes.

You and I
Watch eye to eye
And draw the same conclusions.

We are observers
Experiencing everything
Through the eyes of others

The sayings are the same,
But the heart is different.

You and I
Are eye to eye
Yet completely miss each other.

RANDOM

But why must you be so old fashioned? Why must you be so narrow minded? Why is it that me being creative, while harnessing today's technology, must always be considered frivolous?

It is not frivolous--it is anything but! How can pouring out your soul be considered frivolous? How can contemplating crazy thoughts about life be insignificant? Why is creating something beautiful so last priority?

I suppose the fault is half mine for I have never really let on how very much these things mean to me. You, like the rest of the world, probably view me as something of a ditz, which I despise. I may be a dreamer, but that does not make me an idiot. I am a fool for love but not a fool for the world.

However, like I said, it is my fault for portraying myself as that way. Yet, I cannot quite seem to find the balance between too serious and almost innocently happy. I know what I am, but the rest of the world knows not.

RANDOM

Writing

Cut off my keyboard's wires
Take my pen and provoke my ire.

But you can't take my heart's desire.

The joy of composing so simply
Is the joy of my soul completely.

It matters not the form or place
I shall be seized by inspiration,
And my soul gives chase.

Remove my hands;
It matters not--for instead
I'll simply write within my head.

Do not seek to destroy
What you can't understand
Such petty destruction of my love
Futile--like the stability of sand.

Leave me be
To my soul's content.
Leave me be
With no cause of lament!

Writing shall forever be
A blessing and a love for me.

Reflection
Writing

I have always wanted to write a piece like this. However, it's a horribly messy, first draft version. Ideally, I wanted it to be a structured poem with a meter and measured stanzas. Of course, my very personality works against such pieces. But I wanted something a little more structured than a stream of conscious prose piece.

The result is a mishmash of the two. It is a thing that cannot quite decide if it is one thing or the other. That is what annoys me. It isn't a beautiful fusion, but more of a lazily created hodgepodge.

I had hoped for something finer.

RANDOM

No one is truly introverted. There is always the need for something from the outside to affect. Yes, one does gather energy from being alone, but not not from within themselves for no matter what, no one is truly alone. Besides, people are humans; humans do not have a huge energy source within themselves that can just give and give. They are quite the opposite--parasitic. They take and they take. They need outside energy to sustain themselves.

However, it works. It is a chain through which the energy flows be it through heat, electricity, water, music, or a smile. There is life in all these things--love in all these things. They are what nourish us.

No one can survive alone.

RANDOM
Critique - Jonas Brothers

I know I wrote about them before, saying that I couldn't find much special about them. However, they are starting to grow on me. Their songs have that catchy quality of once heard, often stuck in one's head. They aren't bad listens, and I do suppose the harmony is pretty nice.

The harmony is what seems to make up for the lack of dynamics in the one lead vocalist. His voice is nice to listen to, but I feel like I've never really heard him showcase his voice. Perhaps I am biased simply because I have not listened to all of his music, but I have listened to many of their hits simply to form an opinion for myself.

I guess it's a "family thing." They shine together as vocalists, but I just wish that they would showcase individual vocals a bit more.

They're growing on me, but I'm still waiting for them to impress me.

RANDOM
Critique - Jonas Brothers

Another critique? So quickly? Well, yes, they've caught my attention for now.

I suppose that they do have the dynamic vocals that I've been going on about--it's just spread out through the three of them. They are a band and a team, so I guess it works.

I'm still not entirely sure if I like them or if they're songs are just so infernally catchy that they get stuck in my head. Catchy songs are not the mark of a good artist. Plenty bad songs get stuck in one's head.

Maybe I'm caught up on the fact that they're a boy band. They're just so young; I'm sure they've had many maturing moments, but bands images are defined by their audiences. It could be an effect of being on the Disney channel that makes them more suitable for younger audiences. There's nothing wrong with that; it just doesn't help me take them seriously as mature artists what with all the horrible actors/actresses turned singers they've churned out.

Oh well. Back to more listening and analyzing.

RANDOM - Presents

Nothing says I know your name and face, but didn't have the time or thought to spare to find you a good gift better than a gift card. Oh yes, they're useful, but it's sometimes nicer to receive an actual gift that a person takes a chance with even if I end using it everyday. It's the thought that counts.

RANDOM
Critique - Jonas Brothers

I promise that I'm going to stop cluttering my drabble thread with critiques of the same artists over and over! Really!

Anyways, I think I know what it is that doesn't sit right with me. It is that they are for the younger audience. Up until a year ago, that was me. I was in high school; I was silly and immature; those songs were right for me. They are young. They are innocent. There is nothing wrong with them; they are just the wrong season for me.

I like them because they hark back to my younger, sillier days. It's something like a nostalgia. It's nice to get lost in their music and pretend that the inane drama of the "liking" is all that matters. It's a soundtrack of my youth, but not the soundtrack that I listened to in my youth. Other artists and songs hold that place.

And so these artists are talented, but not truly for me. I do not think I can love them. I can enjoy them, but I will not adore them.

But then they may grow up, and who knows? Maybe then they'll dazzle me.

RANDOM - Both Sides Overrated

And I'll become / Even more undignified than this / Some may say it's foolishness...

Supposedly, it is harder to be a fool than it is to be a man of pride. I understand where the song is coming from. In a society like today and back then, image is considered very important. You always have to look your best to impress everyone else. It's for the world--not God. To say one will let go of that is an act of great sacrifice.

However, are we not all savages underneath it all? Were we not granted minds and reason to think and discuss? Even a savage can dance, but it takes a learned man to understand why he should dance. Is it not more difficult to learn and study the why?

It is easy to dance. A fool can leap into the circle, but what does he know? It can be done by fools and learned men alike.

I find that being undignified is just as overrated as being dignified is.

Response to d2hiriyuu's Popular drabble:

Challenge
What is love?

The automatic response that comes to my mind is "Love is like oxygen. Love is a many splendoured thing! Love lifts us up where we belong! All you need is love!"

Of course, that does and doesn't answer the question.

Firstly, what manner of love is the question referring to? There are many different types of love. There is a familial love, romantic love, godly love, and philosophical love. Within these types, there are millions of variations and deviations.

There is puppy love or the slang of love. People throw the world around so carelessly today, that it ceases to mean much more than "like."

And then there is that term called "true love." If anything, it is just as ambiguous as the plain term of "love." One often hears about it in fairy tales, referring to one's soul mate. However, it is often spoken about as a love that is unconditional--agape love--where one will do the very best for that person no matter what.

The definition of love that I hold to is closest to agape love. It is unconditional and truly inexplicable. It is deeper than an attraction and more binding than a lifetime. It is goodness. It is the force that makes the world turn. It is that hope within each person's heart that allows them to smile. It is the greatest power in the world and cannot truly be contained by a definition.

Love is something you will know when you feel it. It can be explained no other way. The words of the greatest writers can describe epiphanies and passions, but all fall short. It is like trying to define the ocean but a million times more difficult. What words can truly convey the wonder of the blue hued waves catching a million reflections in the light? How then can one even begin to describe love?

Nothing in the world is like it. It cannot be bought or taught. It can only be felt and given. It is unique, and being so, no comparison is enough. Love escapes all descriptions and leaves the writer at a loss for words.

RANDOM

Why is it that the writer is so under appreciated by the masses? I can be asked the question "So what have you been doing this summer?" and the reply "writing" just doesn't sound very productive. Even for those who don't have much musical appreciation, they nod approvingly when someone responds by saying they've been playing the guitar. They all stare appreciatively at the art piece. But writing?

Psh. Anyone can writes. People write everyday, and, frankly, who wants to read through that garbage? They don't even like reading.

So nothing is read; nothing is understood; nothing is realized. Writing is just writing a list. There's no thought behind it. Writing? What's so great about that? You're just playing.

But am I?

I am hardly playing, but of course if you choose to take me that way, maybe I will.

And satire is born.

RANDOM

Oh! How you are like a dog! You will sink your teeth into one topic and gnaw and gnaw until the clatter of another bone thrown to you catches your attention. It's an annoyance, yet it's almost too easy.

RANDOM

"My favorite little lady."

And what the heck is that supposed to mean? o_0

But then I think about it, and it seems a very apt description of me. I suppose it has something to do with my romantic mindset, but I do enjoy playing the lady. I lack elegance enough to truly be one, but I find it fun to assume the manner and act he part. Little lady is a fitting name.

Of course, this is not quite what the slang has come to mean. Slang hardly takes things literally. Instead, it is simply a term of endearment. Yes, it's literal meaning is an endearment as well, but the slang term does not go so far to apply that meaning. It is coincidence that it fits my nature.

RANDOM - Favorite Color

"So what's your favorite color?"

He always asked the question to other people. It was a conversation starter, something to think about. The answers were usually different, sometimes the same. He asked because he wanted to know why. He wanted to see how these people ticked--how they gathered such an opinion for he could never settle on one himself.

He liked orange, but he liked reds. He liked colors he looked good in. He liked colors that looked good. He couldn't really decide.

"What's your favorite color?"

"I don't know."

RANDOM - Favorite

What is it that makes one have such a preference for one so high above the others? Sometimes there are logical reasons. This one looks best. This one is most comfortable. This one tastes good.

But then there are those impulsive favorites. What's the reasoning behind those? One seems to pick it upon a whim, and then it's his favorite for life. How does that make sense?

RANDOM

Toes are such strange members. Feet are even more bizarre. Their shape is oblong, slightly widening, and separating into the odd toes. The toes perhaps resemble elongated grapes in a fleshy tone. Their very shape and make is weird. There are wrinkles by the knuckles--huge lines across the stubby sticks. Then there is the toenail. They've never shaped quite the same. They crown the toe like some strange armor.

Strange how people think hands are so beautiful, and feet are so ugly when they are so similar.

RANDOM

It uplifts my spirit.
It keeps me going.
It makes me tick.

Plays my heart.
Calms my nerves.
Chills my spine.

It's familiar.
It's new.
It's timeless.

Shakes up my soul.
Inspires me to shout.
Quiets myself.

It's music to my ears.

RANDOM

Few things can inspire such simple joy as hearing a familiar song on the radio. It's something so unexpected--a wonderful, little surprise. The previous song was alright, but now you're swaying to the beat and singing along. This song simply enraptures. And while it might not have by itself, the familiarity of it sweeps you off your feet. You've fallen in love again.

RANDOM

Is it so strange of me to fall in love with everything around me? Perhaps I'm some sort of freak. Honestly, what kind of person picks up a bottle of notebook and falls in love with the sheer notebook-ness of it all?

But this is the way it is with me. I fall in love with something purely for what it is. I revel in its purity of self. However, that does not mean I hate the contradictions. I glory also in their simple self crossing selves. Is it not foolishness? Is it not idiocy?

And the people! The people mesmerize me. Ashley is so very Ashley! Lara is completely Lara! Alysa is so herself! Max is utterly Max! Edgar is just Edgar! Each is to their own, yet they are all different from each other! They are so very much themselves that I cannot help but love them. Perhaps it is the artist in me that has fallen prey to such a fatal attraction.

Alas...

RANDOM

So long as I sit here
So long as I forget
So long as I lose myself
I can keep the world at bay.

It is the intricacy
Found only in thoughts
That renders me complete
No longer incompetent
In my world, I am me.

RANDOM - Continuation of drabble written on 7/21/2008

I love a thing because it is a character. It is a character in this great novel of a world we make up. The way I love people is not proper at all, but it is as if they were out of a book. Meanwhile, I love books as if they are people.

Perhaps this is what comes of being raised by more books than friends, though that's not to say I was friendless in life. I always had friends, many friends. I was blessed. However, I simply had more books.

RANDOM

I hate the way you see me.

Am I really such a shallow creature to you? Simply because I only listen does not mean that there is nothing there. I choose to listen because you needed someone to listen. I choose not to tell because you don't need to know. Who benefits? I waste my breath. It isn't necessary for you to understand me. Frankly, I do not care to invest such time into you. Honestly, I don't invest that in any one.

You make the investment. Of course, it's not fair. I don't give as freely as you did, but who said this was a world of give and get? Yes, it's polite to reciprocate, but nothing forces one to. I don't have to actually give back unless I want to.

And why would I want to when you never seem to take me seriously? I listened to you and advised you. Perhaps you don't mean it, but you never consoled me. Everything I say is a joke. I am lighthearted. I don't have problems. I am simple.

That is the most irking view one can take of me. It is the one thing I try so hard to deviate from. I complicate; I interweave; I create so many twists and lies. I am made of layer upon layer of subtlety, and I am proud of it. I am proud that there is more to me than just that.

I take it as the greatest insult when you ignorantly strip that all away.

Of course, you don't know, and this isn't something I'm likely ever going to inform you about. Thus, I simply fade away. If all I am to you is that, then I shall fade away. You do not deserve to know me.