"Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears."

"Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears."

There are some gratitudes
That no words are expansive enough to contain
No notes with which to express in melody
No color or line with which to envision it
And such is that gratitude
That I would offer you
Thank you

For holding my hand
When I was scared to fall
For believing in me
When I could not find strength
To believe in myself
For teaching me
I am what I make myself
That strength is not always visible
That it is in the silence that meaning often lies

You taught me to craft my own wings
With which to fly above
The level plane of tradition
And expectation
You took my hand
And lead me to the ledge
You became the breath of Zephyr
That would carry me in the direction of my dreams

You taught me the meaning
Behind wordless looks and quiet smiles
To understand human need
And that solace
Is in the laughter of a child

There is a sharp divide between
You as most people see
Self-contained
Seemingly attached to no one and nothing
And you as you rarely let others see
Connected
Understanding and loving

It is a paradox beyond words
To see the passion and strength
You quietly cradle in your heart
Concealed by the lullaby siren-song
You sing to keep those from coming too close
There is always distance

When I look in your eyes
I never see hopelessness
But there is never outpouring hope
It seems to be something you
Try not to consider too often

And though I try
I cannot capture
What I perceive in you
Anymore than I can describe
A face
By looking at a shadow

Yet there have been whispers
Teaching me to understand
Tomorrow is not today
It is tomorrow
Yesterday has passed
It cannot be changed
Today is all we have

I will never fully understand
The gift you gave me
This is a fight no one should face alone
Purpose
You handed me meaning
And I have nothing to give you
But my promise

I will fight for them
“[The] huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse”
My Promise
I will be in the trenches with you

But that’s tomorrow
Today all I can give are my words
Thank You
Beyond what words can say
Thank You

When I Grow Up...

When I was very young (four or five) I wanted to grow up and get married; except I wanted to be the man and I wanted to marry a beautiful woman. I grew up expecting to have several children with my wife, live in your average suburb, and be the model of the American family. Because I attended a Christian preschool I was quickly corrected and informed that I couldn’t marry a woman and it was my job to stay home and be the mommy. I spent the next eleven years of my life fighting with myself over what would become of me socially and emotionally. I eventually learned that love is love, regardless. As for my suburban life I realized that there are more options than just Middle America. I have no set goals for my personal life, only to be happy in the end. When considering careers I knew with conviction what I wanted to do with my life when I was quite young. Of course I changed my mind but adopted each new career choice with the same fervor and conviction.

“I’m always sick, and I have to see my doctor all the time so I want to be a doctor. I want kids to have a doctor who knows what it’s like to be sick and not be able to play or have fun.” I succinctly explained to my 2nd grade class. How typical that I wanted to be a pediatrician when I was a little one. I decided early on that I would grow up to treat kids who were like me because I was so frequently sick I wanted the kids to have someone with whom they could identify. During preschool I habitually played doctor and had a habit of diagnosing my patients as having suffered severe head trauma; I blame “General Hospital.” I held on to the idea of becoming a doctor for at least six years.

Another phase of career option I went through was engineering. As my motto proclaims: it sounded like a good idea at the time. I joined the Math Engineering and Science Achievement team at my middle school and began actively participating in math and science classes. I had no real concept of what engineers did, or what the various branches focused on, but I was hell bent on having a high paying engineering job. Eventually I realized I didn’t like math or science and thus engineering might be a poor choice of career.

After my brief affair with engineering I never settled on anything. In high school I began to realize that I have no idea what I want from life. It was only by accident that I discovered what drives me. Without realizing it I have spent a majority of my time creating, over the course of 6 years I have amassed easily over 300 pieces. Throughout my entire life one thing has sustained me: writing.

When I was in fifth grade I had a teacher that changed my life forever. Having dyslexia often meant my writing was, excuse the pun, written off as low quality. My self-esteem suffered severe blows from verbal and psychological abuse at the hands of my first and second grade teacher; I held the firm belief that I would never amount to much. In fifth grade I had the luck to be taught by Kathy Porter: a woman of kindness, compassion, and encouragement. She was the first person to validate me as a human being and recognize my abilities, specifically in the field of writing. We were assigned weekly stories and other various assignments. I gladly took to the task of creative writing allowing myself to start getting a feel for who I was creatively. Student teachers, substitute teachers, aides and Mrs. Porter herself were continually impressed with my writing and encouraged me to pursue it with passion. It was then that without realizing it, a large part of my future was decided.

Today I am slowly beginning to realize that the world is far larger than what I have seen or known. I have passion but have not chosen a direction in which to focus it. I continue to write. I continue to exercise compassion. I continue to search for my purpose. As for what will happen in the future, “I neither know nor think that I know.”

Buyer Beware

This is a guide to a few of our favorite pick-me-up study buddies: Energy Drinks!

Redline-

Sold in gas stations and health food stores across America this tiny blue bottle looks relatively harmless, at first glance I wrote it off as low power but it would do in a time of desperate caffeine need. Within 30 minutes of finishing the bottle I was shaking and sweating and my heart was racing like a speed addict. There are warnings on the bottle in tiny print warning that consumption should take over two hours and reactions were frequent. Of course I didn’t notice these warnings until I had already slammed the bottle. I remained in this state of hypo manic for 36 hours before I finally relaxed enough to sleep. Even then I still felt the effects such as shaky hands, chills, and difficulty sleeping for another 3 days.

Seeing how frequent these reactions are I would warn anyone who is thinking about trying Redline reserve it for times of desperation and use very little. It is sincerely a dangerous product causing deaths due to heart palpitations and heart attacks in many users. It is only for the truly fearless and hardcore caffeine addicts. As far as I’m concerned, there are much better less deeply affecting products out there.

Sobe Adrenaline Rush-

A common friend to the average college night owl, this variation of liquid energy makes up for what it lacks in caffeine with massive amounts of High Fructose Corn Syrup. I’ve tried using it when pulling all nighters but found that it only works if you are willing to drink it almost constantly. I do have to say that it tastes the best out of the world of energy drinks but as for effectiveness it lacks a serious punch.

Go with Sobe if you’re only looking for a minor pick me up or energy with flavor. If you’re looking for a serious ally you’ll want to skip this one.

Red Bull -

The notorious wing-giving energy concoction can be summed up in two words: caffeinated Smarties. We all remember Halloween and those horrible chalky little rolls of Smarties. At first taste I was convinced they had liquefied Smarties and added caffeine. Although it has a slight kick the tiny cans, exorbitant price, and weird taste are a definite turn off.

If you’re looking for something strangely sweet-ish with a kick and you have money to burn, go for it.

Coke Blāk-

Lesser known and soon to be discontinued this variation of traditional Coca-Cola and super strength coffee packs a punch with a new twist on flavor. The taste is a mix between the bitterness of black coffee with the sugary sweet of Coca-Cola making for a taste bud wake up call. The amount of caffeine is virtually perfect for a late night, not enough that you have serious side effects, but not so little that you have to have a constant stream.

The price is reasonable. The taste is strange but still good. The caffeine factor is dead on. If you’re planning a late night for finals, or any reason, stock up because word has it that Coca-Cola is planning to pull the plug on this one.

Drug of Choice: My Musical Obsession

My collection is not so much a collection as it is a full blown addiction. Although most addictions are characterized by interfering with the user’s day to day life, I am not concerned with interference mainly because my addiction permeates our culture already. What could I possibly be addicted to that is so common? Nicotine? Alcohol? Reality Television? Unfortunately for you I am far more mundane than that. My addiction is music.

Music is such an integral part of my life; my home is saturated with it in every way shape and form. I grew up listening to satirical rock, classical, oldies, rock, alternative, folk as well as blues, jazz, and of course country. By the time I was four I had a small collection of my own cassettes as well as my own tape player which I prized above all else.

As I grew older my collection expanded. When I was nine I received my first CD. It was –sadly- “SPICE” by the Spice Girls. I took over our computer and listened to it as often as I was allowed. I say our computer because my family did not get a CD stereo/boom box until I requested one for Christmas when I was ten. My mother was originally hesitant to purchase one because I would have to expand my collection to make such a device useful. Oh my, did I expand my collection and make use of that poor stereo. In fact that stereo is still in use at my house, although I think it may have recently played its last song.

The first CD I ever purchased with my own money was the soundtrack to “Muppet Treasure Island.” Thus began my life long affair with musicals. After that fateful trip to Sam Goody it was all down hill. My home now houses upwards of two thousand CDs: there are discs in every room, and I do mean every room, except for the master bath. However in my journey I managed to rope the rest of my family into the frenzy. My father focusing on jazz, blues, and classical; my mother prefers certain veins of gospel, pop, country, and even the select musical. My sister who was my original cohort in my musical escapades has tastes as diverse as mine: our musical libraries look eerily similar because we share so much of our music.

As technology evolved and the iWorld emerged I managed to persuade my parents that it would be in their best interest to purchase a 20GB iPod to accompany my sister and I on our backpacking adventure across Europe in the summer of 2005. They agreed because they knew of my uncanny ability to lose large amounts of CDs: when I was thirteen I lost a CD wallet with nigh on forty-five CDs, again when I was fifteen I lost another wallet of twenty or so CDs, in between I managed to lose individual CDs quite often.

After we added the iPod to our arsenal of musical equipment I discovered the beauty of iTunes and their ripping tool. As the aforementioned iPod belonged to my sister I requested one for my eighteenth birthday and my parents obliged with a 20GB color iPod which was with me until the hard drive bit the dust for the second time recently. I confess that when it died I had a full blown panic attack knowing that I had no source of music thus I was a junkie without a fix. Eventually they replaced the iPod and I happily resumed my musically hedonistic life.

Upon receiving the iPod on my birthday I set to work collecting every song and CD I owned and thought I would possibly be interested in listening to at any time. My collection of digital music grew exponentially quickly ballooning to several thousand songs.

After discovering that cursed iTunes Store I found myself even more doomed. Over the past two years my collection has grown by at least a thousand songs I have purchased from the iTunes Store. The latest track count on my iTunes library is 4,248 tracks (totaling 11 days 14 hours 19 minutes and 11 seconds of total playing time, accounting for 15.53 GB of memory on my external hard drive) which is no small feat. My library is so massive I was forced to purchase an external hard drive solely for the purpose of housing my audio library.

To some the sheer volume of this collection seems baroque but to me it simply acts as an artistic outlet. My life is constantly provided with its own soundtrack, music to uplift me in the harder times, music to console me in times of loss, music to motivate me, music to make me think, music to relax me, music to do just about anything. Music is designed to provoke emotion and make people feel certain things; it is no different than any common drug.

I can quit any time I want… except I don’t want to quit.



Is Music a Drug?

http://www.1729.com/blog/IsMusicADrug.html


Feeding the Habit

http://www.theinquirer.net/default.aspx?article=28646
http://weblogs.jupiterresearch.com/analysts/wilcox/archives/001100.html


Links to my Favorite Bands

http://www.placebo.co.uk/
http://www.pulponline.com/
http://www.myspace.com/bloodorwhiskey
http://www.righteousbabe.com/ani/index.asp

Quote-y goodness!

They're like literary Wheaties!!!

You all know me well enough to know I'd usually choose something profound and somber but today I'm feeling chipper so they're somewhat comical and offensive (okay, really tastelessly offensive). Despite their questionable nature they're still profound in someway. Enjoy!!


"Only for now! (Sex!)
Is only for now! (Your hair!)
Is only for now! (George Bush!)
Is only for now!

Don't stress,
Relax,
Let life roll off your backs
Except for death and paying taxes,
Everything in life is only for now!"

-"For Now" Avenue Q The Musical

Why do I enjoy such a profoundly tasteless quote? Because it's honest, it's funny, and most of all it's true. Though I rarely give an explicit definition of why I try to live life without fighting against the impermanence of it all, my mantra is the above song. These words have gotten me through some of the hardest times in my life. Buddhists define pain as clinging to the things in life that are impermanent, as most things are. Change is one of the only guarantees and the sooner someone learns this, the easier his life will be. This doesn't mean giving up entirely but rather learning to "roll with the punches" and keep going. This quote is about not letting the things in life that suck keep you from achieving what you want. Remember, all of life is only "For Now."


"We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?"
-Marianne Williamson


I recently discovered this quote on the homepage of S.A.R.K. (Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy) who is one of my favorite authors. I love it because it pushes people to recognize and revel in their inner fabulousness, something most folks rarely do. People rarely recognize or validate their own creativity claiming they "aren't good enough." I think this movement of self doubt should be done away with; people need encouragement. We watch a handful of "celebrities" act out these fantasy lives, claiming all the glory and recognition for themselves, and then we doubt that we have a right to be amazing. Children should be allowed to believe that they are inherently good people, they are wonderful humans and they have a right to shine and be recognized. Never let anyone take your right to be an amazing human being, and never let anyone tell you that you aren't amazing because, honestly, everyone in the world has something inside them that makes them unlike anything or anyone else. Shine.

An Open Letter to Rush Hour

Dear Rush Hour,

I understand your excitement at your release from the work day and your frustration at wanting to get home but I have to say that our relationship is starting to bore me. You leave me sitting for at least 30 minutes waiting for you to move or show signs of life.

At first the rush was exciting and I got caught up in your slow, easy pace. Now I see you for what you are: a carbon monoxide emitting, smog addling, fossil fuel wasting time leech. And it’s not just your environmental impacts that are starting to hurt our relationship, we also want different things. I want to go places and see things; you want to clog the roadways and slow life down interminably. I can’t see us working out.

Not only do you waste my time, you push me around. I feel abused when you don’t let me change lanes, merge, or make it through the stoplight ahead. Furthermore you never remain consistent, you are everywhere I want and need to go. You block exits I need to take, you place construction zones on streets I need to use, you close lanes when I least expect it. Worst of all you put “Turn Only” lanes when I need to go straight and “No Turning” lanes when I need to turn. Why do you have such a personal vendetta against my vehicular freedom?

As much as I want to understand and help you, this situation is beyond my ability. I suggest you seek help. Find alternative routes of travel, seek out public transportation, and find support in a carpool. I hope you see the error of your ways soon, and make an effort to change. Please, don’t count on me to be among the masses of victims you consume each day across the country. I’m finished wasting my time sitting and waiting for you to move.

Good Luck
Kate Taylor

Broken Flight

Wings fluttering hard
Against cement
Flecked with obsidian
This cuts my fingers
Turns them white with torn layers of skin

Tiny wings:
Colored to hide in wooded secrecy
Stand proudly against the drab grey of the morning
Shadowed pavement cold
Inches from the blinding sun

Small and helpless
Wings softer than silk
Are trying to fly
Panic desperate
Faith and fear
Keep you fluttering
Beating your wings

Tiny
Cannot fly
Your soft body heaving hard
Again
And again
Against the shard-walk

You are not strong enough to live
You will die soon
As Darwin dictated
You will have to sacrifice yourself
Waiting anguished
Extinguishing in pain
To serve another creature

Waiting pain
Quietly and quickly end it
Save you
By killing you

But is it right of me to take your life?
Which you seem to cling to
As you cling to my finger
In my cupped child-hands
You spend your energy
Not escaping

Soft wings
You leave cold dust on my hands

I am cursed
Steinbeck’s simpleton
You are soft
Contact comforting

Was it mercy that I killed you?
Is it ever mercy that kills?
Can you forgive me for what I did to you?
I’m sorry

I wish I could have seen you fly.

Greatest Site EVER!!!!

So boredom has dictated that I find something to do on el inter-web. This said I scowered Google for something worth my interest. Lo and Behold I have found the Holy Grail of RANDOM!!!!

http://www.superbad.com/ - it makes no sense, you randomly click your way through a series of webpages/images but it is infinitely fascinating because it has no logic to it. It goes on forever. Long Live Surrealism!!

http://www.intute.ac.uk/artsandhumanities/cgi-bin/fullrecord.pl?handle=artifact565 - the origins of SuperBad. it all makes sense.

if that doesn't suit your fancy pick something else
http://www.bored.com/

Curiosity killed the magic.

The smell of rain is a magic in and of itself, especially here in the desert. Probably because rain is a kind of magic, the wetness as it falls from the sky like a rite of purification. For centuries literary masters have taken the ideas of rain and run with them. Off the top of my head I can’t think of an example but I know they have. The smell of it, before and after the rain, has inspired authors and poets as much as the rain itself.

Of course, being captain curiosity I had to find out what makes rain smell. I felt sadly robbed of the magic when I found out it’s the smell of bacteria. You can buy it in a bottle. I think a little part of my soul just died. Damn you science!!!

Here, see for yourself. Science kills a small part of the magic of youth: http://www.weatherchannel.com.au/WWSM/images/0003/GlobalImages/30933.pdf