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So last night I was listening to the song “A Few of my Favorite Things” from the musical Sound of Music and I thought I’d start my own personal list of my own favorite things. You know. ‘Cause stuff like that is…fun.

Yeah…

So my first favorite thing would have to be…

Oooooooh yeah. Sweet stuff. More specifically, chocolate. Most specifically, any kind of chocolate.

Yep. That’s the good stuff. If you load me up on enough of it, the sugar shock makes the rest of the day quite enjoyable.

Yay for being hyper!

Till next time =D

It’s been a while since I posted on here and…well, I missed it. So I’m gonna tell you guys something you need to know.

You see this? Do you know what this is?

 Best. Movie. Ever. Watch it now :D

No- seriously. It’s not just a great movie; every time I watch it, I get inspired to write. I don’t know how he does it, but Miyazaki creates something so beautiful in his films. Coupled with Joe Hiasashi’s music, it becomes a piece of art that will be forever engrained in my heart. Yeah, some of the scenes can be strange, but a big part of it is the culture and the mind-blowing awesomeness that is Miyazaki’s mind.

So…that’s all for now. Just…watch it. Seriously; if you’re open to it, your mind will be blown.

As the semester winds down to a close, I just wanted to take a moment and thank the people in the class who really made it productive and fun for me.

Thank you to everyone who listened to me spill my guts as I stood at the podium; your feedback was much appreciated and I will take it all to heart.

Thank you to Emily Maeder for stopping in the front of the room (every day before class) and make us question why we were all there.

Thank you to the people I sat next to and shared ideas with; your encouragement and critiques made me feel more confident in my poetry.

Thank you to my poetry group who listened to me and were amazing observers of my poetry. You showed me what to correct and told me why. Without you, I wouldn’t have half as much confidence in my poetry.

And last, but not least, thank you Dr. W. for making poetry, if anything, easier to understand. You encouraged our learning and didn’t make the idea of poetry some unreachable, undefinable enigma; instead, you helped make it personal which is what poetry really is. It’s personal to everyone who writes it, and the reason why people don’t often understand it as readily as they would like is because often, they aren’t with the poet the moment they are writing it.

I really hope that makes sense.

Anyway, I feel as though I’ve gained, not only an understanding of poetry, but more of an appreciation for it. I had written poetry before, but the concept of it frustrated me so much because there was a lot less to work with (as opposed to a short story or a novel). I’m not as frustrated with poetry any more because I see it now as a more personal interpretation. A poem doesn’t have to mean the same thing to everyone who comes across it. So thank you, Dr. W. for all the help.

By the way, your baking is amazing! Just thought you should know. 

So much depends upon
A single thing to say in a moment of tragedy
If only the mouth can find the words.

So much depends upon
An umbrella
When walking alone in the rain.

So much depends upon
A working clock
Oh no- I’m late!

So much depends upon
The probability of a pencil sharpener in a classroom
When one is taking the SATs.

She lives in a fairy tale
Somewhere too far for us to find
Forgotten the taste and smell
Of the world that she’s left behind
It’s all about the exposure the lens I told her
The angles were all wrong now
She’s ripping wings off of butterflies

Keep your feet on the ground
When your head’s in the clouds
Well go get your shovel
And we’ll dig a deep hole
To bury the castle, bury the castle
Go get your shovel
And we’ll dig a deep hole
To bury the castle, bury the castle
Ba da ba ba da ba ba ha

So one day he found her crying
Coiled up on the dirty ground
Her prince finally came to save her
And the rest you can figure out
But it was a trick
And the clock struck twelve
Well make sure to build your house brick by boring brick
Or the wolf’s gonna blow it down

Keep your feet on the ground
When your head’s in the clouds
Well go get your shovel
And we’ll dig a deep hole
To bury the castle, bury the castle
Go get your shovel
And we’ll dig a deep hole
We’ll bury the castle, bury the castle

Well you built up a world of magic
Because your real life is tragic
Yeah you built up a world of magic
If it’s not real
You can’t hold it in your hand
You can’t feel it with your heart
And I won’t believe it
But if it’s true
You can see it with your eyes
Oh, even in the dark
And that’s where I want to be, yeah

Go get your shovel
And we’ll dig a deep hole
To bury the castle, bury the castle
Go get your shovel
And we’ll dig a deep hole
To bury the castle, bury the castle

———————————————————————————————————————-
Brick by Boring Brick- Paramore

Today I write about magic.

My pen is my wand,

My paper, my cauldron into which hot, bubbling thoughts are poured and stirred.

I begin to see the eyes of dragons- golden with a fantasial glow.

Their breath is hot at my throat as they pursue my hand to fly faster across the gleaming white page.

I am giving breath and heart to the creatures of my imagination.

They overflow, and bound off the page and onto the cold, wooden floor of my inner chamber.

What a mess they make!

Scuttling, Flying, Inching, Running, Flipping, and Shooting themselves around the room.

One spills a glass of water, making the edges of The paper soggy.

A pixi- like creature lands on my thumb, trying to wrestle The pen from me.

One knocks over a candle, and fans the flames, making the fire grow.

I hear a roar that rattles everything from my windows

To my bones.

I look up and see a great golden eye staring back at me.

One glance would have been enough to presume…

This is NOT my imagination.