Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
- Bliss Carman
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
On the 20th I did my first true classroom observation. I went back to my hometown and sat in on a kindergarten class. This observation was such a relief because after being in there for the day I realized that what I truly want to do is teach kindergarten and all this hard work has not been done so I can have a job I feel lukewarm about. For those who have not sat in on a kindergarten class, the experience is both delightful and exhausting. I promise you, your self esteem will go up 50 percent after just one day. All of the little girls and boys instantly fell in love with me. While the boys wanted to constantly show off on the playground and get my opinion on how daring they were, the girls wanted to constantly tell me how pretty I was and how I was their friend. At the end of the day I was horribly dehydrated, had a massive headache, and my legs were throbbing. Despite all of my physical pain that I felt by the end of the day, I can't wait to go back and sit in on a kindergarten class.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
One Inch Tall
By: Shel Silverstein
If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride a worm to school.
The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool.
A crumb of cake would be a feast
And last you seven days at least,
A flea would be a frightening beast
If you were one inch tall.
If you were only one inch tall, you'd walk beneath the door,
And it would take about a month to get down to the store.
A bit of fluff would be your bed,
You'd swing upon a spider's thread,
And wear a thimble on your head
If you were one inch tall.
You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum.
You couldn't hug your mama, you'd just have to hug her thumb.
You'd run from people's feet in fright,
To move a pen would take all night,
(This poem took fourteen years to write--
'Cause I'm just one inch tall).
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
A Southern Boy
A southern night,
Swimming across the vast acres of corn fields,
Staring at me,
Don’t need to look over to know,
Feel the heat of his gaze,
I need a cool southern breeze to cool me down.
Hear his heart beat as I lay my head on his chest,
Beat Beat Beat,
Rain drops on a tin roof,
Take in his smell,
Like freshly cut trees in a meadow,
Of this boy,
My southern boy.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
The Smell of Movie Star Lawyers
In younger years,
Parents went to parties,
Mom smelled of hairspray and movie stars,
Dad of burly old spice lawyers,
They'd dress up,
Be out all night,
Miss them so,
They'd come home,
Hug them both,
Snuggle in close,
Breath in deep,
Smell of movie star lawyers,
I could tell you who had come,
Gene was there,
With his whiskey grin,
Dave was there,
With his oaky beard,
Could smell cookies and cherry pie on my mother's hands,
Could smell bitter wine upon my daddies lips,
Dream of parties with them,
Sipping raspberry champagne,
The bubbles tickling my nose,
Smell of movie star lawyers,
In younger years.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
There is nothing like having a day with the girls. There is something about getting dressed up and going out to lunch with some of your best friends. With school and a boyfriend, it sometimes seems that there is never enough time to be girly. It feels so nice to go out with the friends and catch up. My favorite place to go and do such a thing was a little place in the historical district in the town where my college is. I found it my freshman year when I was trying to go to my little town for the weekend. It was the second time I had driven back home from school and I was still not used to navigating my way around. Instead of taking a right, I went straight and, after driving around in a very lost and confused state, I turned onto a road and found a magnificent part of my new town. Now, my college is located in one of the most unattractive areas of my state. The campus is absolutely gorgeous, but when I first arrived I despised the town and craved for my home town. When I found this little historical district I felt at home. The next time I drove there, on purpose this time, I found a perfect little tea shop that served sandwiches, soups, and salads. I instantly fell in love with the little tea shop and brought my friends there when I needed to get away and have a girls day. This last Christmas, however, my friends and I went to go have tea and found a sign that they were soon closing due to the economy. It is a shame that the little business that always made me feel so at home and gave me a chance to have tea with the girls from time to time is now out of business. I am glad I was able to enjoy it these last three years. The little tea shop will always remain a pleasant memory.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
By: Mary Ann Hoberman
Let’s dress up in grown-up clothes
That touch our toes;
That hide our nose.
Let’s dress up today.
Trimmed with lace;
Rouge and lipstick
On our face;
(Just in case).
Let’s dress up today.
Now we’re ready.
Let’s go walking
Down the street
(Pretend we’re talking).
All dressed up today.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Wes and I have been together for over three years and I have enjoyed every moment. The best thing about him is that he keeps me laughing. He doesn't just get me to giggle from time to time, but he manages to make me laugh with my whole body until my stomach aches and my face is sore from smiling. He has this wonderful sense of humor that I love and that keeps me smiling and shaking my head at how clever and silly he can be. I love that about him.
Friday, March 13, 2009
One of my favorite things is lighthouses. I love lighthouses. This picture was taken by Wes at a lighthouse in Kauai. It was beautiful and one of my favorites. There is something just so magical about them. I think Henry Wadsworth Longfellow says it best in his poem, "The Lighthouse."
By: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
and on its outer point, some miles away,
the lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,
A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.
Even at this distance I can see the tides,
Upheaving, break unheard along its base,
A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides
in the white tip and tremor of the face.
And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright,
through the deep purple of the twilight air,
Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light,
with strange, unearthly splendor in the glare!
No one alone: from each projecting cape
And perilous reef along the ocean’s verge,
Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape,
Holding its lantern o’er the restless surge.
Like the great giant Christopher it stands
Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave,
Wading far out among the rocks and sands,
The night o’er taken mariner to save.
And the great ships sail outward and return
Bending and bowing o’er the billowy swells,
And ever joyful, as they see it burn
They wave their silent welcome and farewells.
They come forth from the darkness, and their sails
Gleam for a moment only in the blaze,
And eager faces, as the light unveils
Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze.
The mariner remembers when a child,
on his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink
And when returning from adventures wild,
He saw it rise again o’er ocean’s brink.
Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same,
Year after year, through all the silent night
Burns on forevermore that quenchless flame,
Shines on that inextinguishable light!
It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp
The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace:
It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp,
And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece.
The startled waves leap over it; the storm
Smites it with all the scourges of the rain,
And steadily against its solid form
press the great shoulders of the hurricane.
The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din
of wings and winds and solitary cries,
Blinded and maddened by the light within,
Dashes himself against the glare, and dies.
A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock,
Still grasping in his hand the fire of love,
it does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock,
but hails the mariner with words of love.
“Sail on!” it says: “sail on, ye stately ships!”
And with your floating bridge the ocean span;
Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse.
Be yours to bring man nearer unto man.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
After having this blog for a month, I have finally figured out how to have music playing while you enjoy skimming through my posts. Please feel free to click on my blog and let the melodies play. Who knows, perhaps you will fall in love with a song or two.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Bed in Summer
By: Robert Louis Stevenson
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candlelight.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people’s feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Sunday, March 8, 2009
I’ve been a taxi driver in New York for eight years now. Everyday is the same, the same people going the same places. You’ve got the people who think they are better than you, going to the big office buildings down town. You’ve got the people who think that you can do something more with your life, going to the airport or church. You’ve got the people who just keep asking random questions to fill up the silence, going to dinner or shopping. Then you’ve got the people who feel as though they have to share their deepest darkest secrets with you, and for some reason they are always heading to Queens. The last category has always compelled me; I have always wondered why they tell me their secrets. What makes me so special? The way I figure it is that people have a priest, or they have me. Only Catholics can use a priest for confession, so most people turn to me. People feel that if they tell someone, just let it out that one time, it magically goes away. Why not tell me; I am a taxi driver in New York. They’ll never see me again and I’ll never see them.
You would not believe the stories I have heard. Some of them are horrible, make your skin crawl, but who knows, they could just be making the whole thing up. After all these years, one story has always stuck in my mind. It was a Tuesday night. Tuesday nights are always the deadest, I mean who wants to go anywhere on a Tuesday night? Well, anyhow I was driving around, looking for someone to pay the rent, when I saw this guy waving wildly. I pulled over and he got in. He was a small guy, Italian I think. His hair was dark and short and his face unshaven. He was covered in sweat and sucking up air like it was on sale. “Where to?” I asked.
“Anywhere, just go!” he yelled at me.
I turned around to face him. “Listen buddy, I am not paid to figure out where you should go, I’m just paid to drive.”
He gave me an evil glare. “Fine, then I want to go to Queens.” Ah, the boy wanted to go to Queens, I knew then that I had a confession on my hands.
Queens was about a half hour away, it could take at least an hour with traffic but, like I said before, Tuesday nights are always pretty dead. I slowly pulled out into the street. “Common! Let’s go!” he yelled at me as he nervously looked out the window. I gave the car a little more gas to make the jerk happy, and we were on our way.
We drove for about ten minutes in silence. When he had finally caught his breath, he started to talk. “It must be kind of a risky job bein’ a taxi driver, not knowin’ what kinda psychos you could be pickin’ up. I mean, for all ya know I might be a murder, a crazy ass murderer. Of course I’m not though, I promise… well at least I think I promise, I mean I’m not sure if she’s… Well, never mind that. I can’t promise you that I’m not a crazy ass. That one you’ll have to figure out for yourself. You probably think I am one, the way I’m rattling on, but I’m just nervous.”
To tell you the truth I was getting nervous myself, I mean imagine driving with a guy who says he may or may not have murdered someone. I was about to pull over and kick him out, but he started talking and I was gettin’ curious. “I get this way, you know, nervous. I work myself up about little things, I get to rattling. That’s part of the reason why I was where I was when you picked me up, my damn rattling and love for money got me into it.” He then became strangely quiet as we made our way from highway 278 to 485. Not a sound could be heard but the wind rushing over the taxi.
I usually don’t talk much to the passengers. I seem to only speak up when they ask me questions, and that is purely out of manners, but I became curious about his story and I couldn’t help but asking, “So, why were you there? What happened?”
He seemed to jump when I spoke, suddenly coming out of his own world that he had zoned into. “You really want to know? Well I feel like I need to tell someone, might as well be you. Where should I start…”
I have always been a smart ass, kinda my nature ya know? So I told him, “Why not start at the beginning?” I was expecting him to get pissed off by this comment but he seemed to think that it was a good idea.
“Well, I guess the beginning always is the best place. It all started last week when an old buddy of mine from high school called me up, told me he needed a favor. I asked him what he wanted but he said it wasn’t something to discuss over the phone, so we meet that night at a bar. He bought me a beer and we went to a table in a far corner and he started to tell me about his wife. It seems that he had been unfaithful towards her, been cheatin’ on her for months and he wanted a divorce. Thing was that he was the person to blame, he did her wrong and because of that, she could take him to the cleaners. He needed to have her be the reason, have her do something wrong. That’s where I came in. He wanted me to win her over, get her to have sex with me and have him catch us in the act. I was a little hesitant but he was an old buddy and he offered me some cash, plus a bit of sex never hurt anyone. I agreed and we began to plan the whole thing. I was going to be a pool boy that he had hired and while he was off at work I would romance her. It was cliché, I know, but neither of us are that creative and it always worked in the movies. Two days later I was knockin’ on their door with only a Speedo on.”
“Wow, that must have taken a lot of courage,” I said.
“No, not really. Wearing the Speedo wasn’t a requirement, it was just my own special touch,” he chuckled. “So, anyhow his wife opened the door and when I saw her my jaw practically hit the sidewalk, I mean this gal was beautiful!”
“So if she was so great than why did your buddy want to leave her?”
“Who knows, I never met the other chick he was banging but she must have been one goddess if he was willing to leave his wife for her. So his wife invites me in, let’s just call her Rose, and she takes me to the pool. Their house and pool are amazing, it is obvious that this guy has a lot of money and I understand why he wants to hold on to it so bad.”
“So did you bang her the first day?” I couldn’t believe that I was getting so into this story. I couldn’t help myself from asking questions, but I had to know.
“Oh no. I had to scope things out first before I made my move, I didn’t want to scare her off. I started to flirt with her and noticed things such as daisies are her favorite flower. Well, by the fifth day she started to get into me too. I knew that it was time to make my move. That day I brought her daises, just by giving her those flowers she was like jelly in my arms. We had our first kiss, it was so sexy, so sensual. She desperately wanted to go farther, but I said we should wait. Told her to meet me at a hotel Tuesday night, this very night. I left her house and called Rose’s husband to fill him in on the details so that he could catch us together. The whole thing seemed like it was going perfectly, but I was wrong-”
“Hey man we’re in Queens, which way should I go now?” I didn’t want to interrupt but I had to ask.
“Um, take a left on 170th and drop me off in Kissena Park. As I was saying, I was wrong. I was to meet Rose at the hotel at 6:30, an hour before her husband was to arrive. I got to the hotel at 6:30 on the dot. I went in the room and turned on the light to see that Rose was already there sitting on the bed with a gun. I thought she was being kinky but she was serious.”
“Did she find out?”
“Yeah she found out! Luck just wasn’t on my side. For some reason she was bored that day so she went through her husband’s old year books and found my picture, then she read a note I left to him that said, ‘If you ever need a favor I’ll be there’. What are the odds? Well, whatever the odds were it was obvious that I was in big trouble. She started screaming at me, demanding to know if her husband knew about us and if he was trying to screw her over. I didn’t know what to do so I told her the truth, the whole truth. I started rattling away about how her husband called me up and how he was cheating on her. I thought that by telling the truth I’d get out of there alive, but my damn rattling seemed to make her more upset. She pointed the gun at my head and told me it was all my fault. She was going crazy. I didn’t know what to do so I jumped on her and the gun went off. I felt warm liquid on my hands and I thought I had pissed myself but it was Rose’s blood, I was covered in her blood. Luckily I brought a change of clothes with me so I quickly changed into them and threw my other clothes in a dumpster behind the hotel. Once I was all cleaned up, I just ran. Then I saw your taxi cab and decided to wave you down. I don’t even know if she’s dead; I was so scared that I didn’t even check. I think I am just going to stay low for a while, it wasn’t my fault at all but what court is going to believe me? She was rich, filthy rich, and I am just a poor low life.” He became silent and looked out the window, we were finally at Kissena Park. “I guess we’re here. How much do I owe ya?”
I slowed down and parked on the curb. “Twenty bucks,” I told him.
“That’s pretty good for that long a drive.”
“Well, I gave you a discount for the story.” He smiled, handed me a twenty, and walked off into the night. I watched him until he disappeared. As I drove off, I was tempted to go to the police to tell them what happened, but I didn’t have anything to go on. I didn’t know his name, the hotel, anything. Plus, who knows… the guy could have made the whole thing up.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
The Lonely Old Woman
I live in an old apartment building and the window in my kitchen looks directly into my neighbor’s. She is a little old woman whose hair is gray and soft on her shoulders. Her hunched back makes her midsection into a perfect U. Although her body is covered with waves of wrinkly skin, I can tell that she was a graceful beauty back in her day. Every night she spends hours in her kitchen preparing amazing meals. She always sets her table for two, along with her finest china. As she brings out the plates she always smiles at the setting across from her. Slowly she lowers into her chair and looks lovingly across the table. All during dinner her mouth is moving, spouting out words whether food is in her mouth or not. She is just so excited to tell about her day. As I look across the table from her I see the same empty seat every night. Three years ago her husband passed on from heart failure. I often wonder if she knows her husband is dead, or if her mind still sees him there, sitting across from her, staring lovingly into her wrinkled face.
Friday, March 6, 2009
The Purple Monster
The purple monster fights to free itself from his green prison,
He pushes with his whole heart,
His hands bleed,
His arms burn like a well-done steak,
But at last he sees daylight,
The bright glow of the sun makes him shield his white eyes,
He keeps shoving,
But his ass is too big,
He wants to prance with deer,
Eat rotting road kill with vultures,
Smoke cherry cigs with teenagers,
But his ass is too big
Finally the purple monster gives up his fight,
Forever he is half in,
Him and his green prison.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Beauty is a butterfly kiss,
Before the moon comes up,
Bedtime stories whispered between flannel sheets,
An old married couple,
More in love each day,
Beauty is a boy, who opens doors,
The child who runs after birds,
A father who colors,
No matter how tired,
Beauty is a teardrop,
Fallen out of joy,
A new hair cut,
Beauty is the first day of school,
Heart racing hard,
Veggie tale band-aids.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
It was a day so long ago,
That I decided to go to Mexico,
I told my friends about the trip,
But no one seemed interested in this hardship,
Except for one by the name of Nate,
He said he’d help me navigate,
A tall man was he,
Always acting fancy free,
Dark curly hair crowned his head,
Long away was he from his deathbed,
His eyes were pools of milk chocolat,
His nose was always filled with snot,
And thus he spent his time blowing his nose,
He could barley smell a rose,
He did not possess a job,
For he dressed like a slob,
But never the less he was my friend,
And I was glad that he could attend,
This long journey to Ensenada,
Where we could eat an Enchilada,
We agreed to keep me awake,
As I drove after daybreak,
He would tell me tales three,
One including his Christmas tree,
To this we shook hands and popped in my red steed,
He started to tell his first story as he had guaranteed.
“It was October the 31st” he said, “and the big moon hung low,
In a tree was a fierce black crow,
I swear to the heavens the crow spoke,
'Don’t do it' he said and I nearly had a stroke,
I was dressed as Robin Hood,
Up till now I had always been good,
Slowly I walked to the park,
I stumbled over stones because of the dark,
There sitting was, Bob, my buddy,
When he got up his butt was all muddy,
He went into his sack and pulled out a thing,
It was cold white eggs to fling,
Nearby I heard children laughing with ghoulish delight,
This sound filled my heart with fright,
I started to back away,
For my conscience told me that something was not ok,
'Where are you going' said Bob,
I began to feel my heartthrob,
'I don’t feel right about doing this' said I,
'Common' said Bob, 'Don’t leave me high and dry,
You are only a kid once,
If you leave now I will tease you for months.'
Well I was too chicken to stand up to him,
I didn’t want him to beat me up or take off a limb,
So I grabbed some eggs and we took off,
No sounds between us but a cough,
We went to an old house,
Climbed into some bushes quite as a mouse,
We stayed there for a half an hour,
The bush smelled fairly sour,
When the lights went out inside,
I through an egg with a sigh,
At this Bob seemed satisfied,
But he did not see I was teary eyed,
I thought of the old lady cleaning up the mess,
While I was having fun at my recess,
When the eggs were all thrown,
We ran from the combat zone,
To our own houses we went,
A story for my mom I did invent,
For why I had not one treat,
I told her a tale that was so sweet,
About giving it all to a child,
Whom never smiled,
She ate it up and sent me to bed,
I went into my room and hung my head,
I felt so guilty for what I did,
There was only one way to make it better so I slid,
Out the window and went to the garage,
I grabbed a mop and some camouflage,
I spent all night cleaning the mess,
But in the end it was a success,
Not one egg shell was left in sight,
And thus I made my wrong right,
Bob never knew that I had done this,
So my arm he never did dismiss,
To this day we laugh about it,
But I never will admit,
That I went back that night.
To make my wrong a right.”
“That was a nice story” said I,
“Such sincerity bring a tear to my eye.”
And all Nate had to say was “Well I try”.
An hour had passed and I was getting sleepy,
And the country music was making me weepy,
So I poked Nate in the side,
“What is it?” he replied,
“It is time for story number two.
Wake up” I said, “it is long over due”
“Ok I’ve got one for you,
And I promise this is true,
It all started when I was walking home one night,
I heard a rustling that gave me a fright,
It was dusk and no one was out,
So if there was trouble no one could hear my shout,
I began to walk a little quicker,
Took a short cut and the trees got thicker,
I heard foot steps from behind,
It did not sound like the human kind,
I heard a roar,
It sounded like a dinosaur,
I turned around,
And I found,
Something furry with bad breath,
Oh lordy, I was scared to death,
It was a grizzly bear,
I hoped this was just a nightmare,
But everything felt too real,
I let out a little squeal,
I laid down quickly and tried to play dead,
The bear began to sniff my head,
I tried to be silent but it tickled so,
I looked up and realized he was in woe,
He didn’t want to eat me,
He wanted to be free,
Of the thorn in his paw,
It was quite raw,
So I sat up to take a closer look,
His paw was bent in a hook,
I took it out of it’s position,
And pulled the thorn to my intuition,
It came out with ease,
The bear gave me a lick with grateful please,
He walked away without looking back,
And I went back on track,
On my journey home,
That night I wrote a poem,
Of how looks can be deceitful,
Something ugly can be beautiful.”
“Yeah right” I spoke, “that story is far from true.”,
“Well” said he, “that is your point of view.”
Together Nate and I ate lunch,
To drink we had fruit punch,
We each had a wrap,
He looked inside the flap,
And found a carrot,
He was about to disinherit,
The one whom did trespass,
Even though you needed a magnifying glass,
To see it’s orange shimmer,
But it’s fate looked grimmer,
As Nate threw it in the trash,
So hard against the bin it did crash,
We got back in my car,
Mexico was not to far,
It was time for Nate’s last tale,
He told me it was about a female,
Little did I know he was speaking of none other,
Than his sweet little mother,
“It was a Christmas long ago”
He started, “That I wanted a stereo,
To Santa I wrote every night,
And wished on stars so sparkly bright,
I spent so much time wishing,
And not enough time fishing,
For the money for presents,
That cost some major cents,
Before I knew it, Christmas was here,
And I had nothing for my mother dear,
I looked around for something cheap,
But nothing was good enough for her to keep,
All I had thought was about was me,
I needed to give her something for underneath the tree,
I thought if anyone could help me Santa can,
I was surely his biggest fan,
So on Christmas night,
I kept the fire place in eyesight,
Santa seemed to be very late,
But I stayed up at any rate,
My eyes began to tire,
My plan started to transpire,
As my eyes began to close,
My dreams were filled with stereos,
I felt my mom shaking me,
There were presents underneath the tree,
'When did Santa come?' I asked,
She answered, 'I think half passed,'
'Oh no!' I gave a yell,
'I am going straight to hell,
I didn’t get you a present,
But this was not my intent,
Time just got away from me,
So there’s nothing for you under the tree,
I tried to get the help of Saint Nick,
But he came and went too quick,
Mommy I feel so bad,
I hope that you are not too mad.'
With this she gave a smile
'Hun I haven’t seen you worked up for a while,
You have nothing to worry about,
So there is no need to shout,
I already have the best present and that is you,
Believe me what I’m saying is true.'
So then my mom gave me a hug,
And my dad walked by muttering humbug,
It was that day I realized not all gifts have a bow,
It is the unseen gifts that make us grow.”
“Awww Nate” said I,
“All your stories make me want to cry”,
And once again he said, “Well, I try.”
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Enjoy the poem!
Before I Die
Before I die I want to live in London,
Smoke cigs atop Big Ben,
I want to open a restaurant called Pears and Fries,
Ask “The usual Hun?”
In a red and yellow outfit,
I want to fall in love with a boy,
He’ll say bless you,
I’ll invent the everlasting gobstopper,
Make children smile,
Before I die I want to become the baddest pirate around,
Be known as Tea the Terror,
I want to swing to the beat of Big Bad Voodoo Daddy,
Wave my hands and jive to the rhythm,
I’ll meet Ringo Star,
Kiss his large nose,
I’m gunna scream in pain as they tattoo peace on my foot,
Before I die I want to streak down 140,
Feel the wind pressing against my body,
I want to make up a word,
Here lovers sayin’ it,
People fearin’ it,
Have my monkey dance to it,
I want to be free,
I wanna live.