Monochrome Rainbows part 1

In a time beyond remembrance, a child was born with sightless eyes. The child's mother and the child's father lamented their daughter's eternal fall into darkness, and did everything in their power to try and bring even the smallest lantern within her gaze. To bring an inkling of color to those stark gray eyes. Nothing worked, but the child was content. Content because, quite honestly, she had no idea what they kept rambling on about.

She could see just fine.

She saw how the village elder was a lecher, how the scholars studied only how to act as though they studied, and most of all, how deathly afraid each and every one of them was. Afraid of the darkness they could never understand. Afraid of the darkness she couldn't hope to understand either, only because she understood it so well. None would admit it, but she knew all the same. They would cling to their fire like a starving wolf to its hard-earned prey. She had found her own lantern in time though, in her own way.

"Rhia, come away from that moon-cursed flower and do your chores!"

leap of faith

she jumped into the sky
and spread her wings to fly
without thinking she could die
because she just wanted to try,
the clouds sank past her eye
of their embrace she was not shy
to ignore this feeling would be a lie
but she couldn't help but let out a sigh
for she found she could not fly

but you know what?

she tried

while her brother sat there and cried

A Letter of Introduction

I guess it saves a lot of time, but writing has got to be one of the most fallible and infallible ways of getting to know someone. It would be pretty simple to cook up fantastic tales, lavishly coated with sugary details everyone else conveniently forgot and topped with the most enticing sprinkles we never saw. Of course, few are petty enough to fabricate a letter read only by their tenth grade English teacher (and assorted others should the author in question choose to post it on his or her writing blog beforehand).

Does that sound arrogant? It sort of does now that I'm rereading it, but thems the breaks I suppose.

First and foremost, hobbies. Music is my first love, and as you already know, I'm a drummer. Not a drummer in the traditional high school sense, as in someone who's touched a drumset for a few minutes, but every little tidbit in the Percussion family of instruments. For marching band, I play the tenor drums, but this is only my first year on the line. Timpani, which also happens to be the instrument dearest to me, was the part I played last season. I also play drumset and the vibraphone in Cinco's Jazz Band, or whatever else the music says. There's just this indescribable feeling that you get when you hear something beautiful and you think to yourself, "Hey, I did that." Should I go professional or not, this isn't something I'll ever be letting go.

As oh so subtly mentioned before, I enjoy writing as well, even though I don't get around to it near as often as I should. I maintain a humble little blog that was started up about half a year ago, which contains most of my free form short blurbs. I say free form only because rubrics for anything to do with writing just irks me to no end. Yes, it's necessary for grading purposes, but it always just feels as though it chokes the work in a way. Writing to a specific type or theme is a useful skill, but it never feels quite right. These blurbs are read by a rather small audience, but they're all I want, as just knowing that I'm not the only one reading this really helps fuel get into the creative fire.

Lollers, too bad I misread the board and didn't have to do this after all. Not letting this work go to waste though D:!

And for my next trick...

I think it's sort of silly to be writing about nothing, and deeply shameful to boot, since there's always something to be written. But I've had many a conversation about nothing at all (quite literally too), so I figured scribbling a blurb about it could be fun.

It just seems like a testament to how close people are if they can actually talk about nothing at all but still be talking, and for awkward silences to be an unthinkable notion. Starting with a typical howdy-do, generic responses, generic re-responses, a few perfectly comfortable silences, hilariously unfunny but still funny pokes at just what the topic of this exchange is, nonchalant answers leaning in the obvious direction, more awkward turtles that landed on their feet and walked off, the obligatory inquiry as to what each party is investing their valuable time into at the moment, with an assortment of smileys thrown into the mix before achieving blissful randomosity.

But that's just one recipe, should we choose to call it that. Another consists entirely of insults, each getting more and more offensively ridiculous and often having to do with mothers and faces. This will carry on for a while until one party grows tired of the monotony, and calls a ceasefire, which is occasionally followed by a bombardment of grandiose compliments. I suppose it isn't really nothing, but it's ludicrous to call it something.

Needless to say, I lovems my friends, I do. Those bestest broke the sparkling new mold they came out of.

Reach for the Sky

Everything that humans can imagine...is a possibility in reality.

-Willy Karen

Quite a few people would laugh in derision at this. Those new age sillies who think dreamers ought to see a number of doctors as soon as possible. The ones who don't yet realize that while proving something exists is all well and good, proving that something doesn't exist is an entirely different kettle of fish.

Which makes one wonder who came up with that saying because as far as kettles of fish go, there really isn't much to be said about them...

Besides, even if something we can imagine doesn't currently exist, it is still a possibility. We've done the impossible before many times. As someone else once said, impossible is only a word, used by the weak to discourage the mighty. It may have a bit of a holier-than-thou sound to it, but stands true in virtually every application. So far, no one has succeeded in placing an actual limit on just what we are capable of.

Go ahead. Just think of the most ridiculous thing imaginable, literally, then prove to me that it couldn't exist. We've proven our worth with negative uses for our creations, so shouldn't we work on the positive? While it may no longer be literal, the sky is still the limit.

A Question

Body...or soul?

If you had to give up one, which would it be? Without one, you have no anchor to this physical world, but without the other, there's no point. Of course, this could depend on one's current situation. A young buck in his prime cares more about the here and now then the far and away. But the latest addition to the Shady Acres retirement home is likely concerned about where his spirit will be roaming in a few years.

Sadly though, this question is likely what drives some to commit those less tasteful acts...but though it could also be taken literally, the question of now or later is always riding on our minds, isn't it? If I eat this now, I'll just get fat. If I make the deal later, it'll earn more. Really, which is more important? One's mortal body or one's immortal soul?

One answer, however idealistic and simpleminded it may be, is that both tie for first place.

Besides, we all know the heart is the most important anyway.

The Leaves...They're Changing

Winter...is it death..or is it life? Just...a beginning...it seems. Harsh winds promise trials like no other, yet within this darkness is a beacon, granting warmth to those who bathe in its light. Some would call it the most wonderful time of the year, but whether this attitude stems from honest good will or materialistic greed seems to be in a constant flux. While the outside is surrounded by a wreathe of ice, the inside serves only to draw us together. Color me blue.

Spring...certainly a time of life and refreshment. Those that hide from Winter's fury finally emerge to greet the sun...just as if this was the true beginning. Though cascading rains often alter the serene beauty, they wash all the grimy troubles away. It's a time of energy...of youth. Just trying to squeeze some fun into those busy work hours to lighten Atlas's load. A lovely splash of cool water to the face after a long winter's nap. Color me pink.

Summer...a time of fire. A time to burn passionately and dive headfirst into a new project. With such time on our hands, how can we not? Of course, the lazy days go hand in hand...the sleep days...the hot days...those darn dog days. Sometimes it just seems as if that raging energy has been put to bed early. It's a time of rest, of family, and of friends. Party central? Hardly, but exciting all the same. Color me green.

Autumn...one could call it a time of death...sheltered in a veil of blazing art. Time seems to slow in these calming months. Fire gives way to ice, and the passion begins to fade. The young look upon this time with disdain, as the return to responsibility beckons. The old...well, the young cannot speak for them, but a reversal would be somewhat sensible. Light begins to wane, the colors whither away, but this is no ending. Color me orange.

The cycle of life...never changed and never ending.