I can glow in the dark.

Childhood

Two posts in one day again. I wrote this poem, and I wants me to (yes, that was improper grammar. yes, I said it that way on purpose) publish it in a newspaper. So I'm going to ask around, and hope for the best. Yay!!!


Childhood

By Julianna Isbell (ME!)

I used to speak the lingo
that the stars whispered at night.
I used to climb the Sycamores,
breathless from the sight.
I used to watch the flowers bloom,
curious of how.
I used to fly on tire swings
and jump from bough to bough.

I used to dance in cooling rains
and splash the puddles dry.
I used to watch the clouds
and painted pictures on the sky.

I used to catch the fireflies
and gaze at silver moons.
I used to swing and pretend to soar when the sun was high at noon.

I used to be a kid, of course,
but that was way back then,
when innocence and I were joined
like paper and a pen.

Royal Wedding

I can hear bells ringing, dum dum duh-dum.
That's wonderful, just another beautiful thing for TV and ignorance to ruin.
Hello? Two people got married. Two people, who love each other, got married. That's the most beautiful thing in the world, love. And yet, all you faceless mouths can talk about is how gorgeous the bride's dress was, or how extravagant the scenery was at the location of said wedding.

C'mon people!

Laziness

I wasn't in Office and Desktop today, so I didn't write one of those long "poems", I would consider this to be a good thing. Moreover, my brain cleared somewhat. I can now think more about actually doing my math than staring off into space, visions of words flashing before me.
Did I forget to mention I have two F's and one D in my classes now? Oopsies.
Okay, problem: laziness. Solution: un-laziness?
Easy said. Apparently I had to sit down and force myself to do the missing work in History. It's not that I don't understand the subject. Again: laziness. But you can't blame me, right? I mean, these teachers are being brutal, cramming every last bit of information and work in our faces right before summer break (did I mention we only have twenty semi-od days left?) just so they can say they met the status-quo of the curriculum.
We only had two snow days, so we shouldn't be that far behind.

Then again, at my school, these morons.......

Me, Myself, and You

Aaahhh, I know, I know. Two posts in one day, twice in a row? There must be something wrong with me.

But, these thoughts that float around in my head are
getting so cramped , my brain can't expand anymore
than it already is. I need a place to put all of my thoughts.

Welcome to that place.

I have been in vampire mode, lately. Not sleeping.
It doesn't seem to affect me in any way, shape or form.
So I don't count it as a possible threat or a problem.
Which is worse, because one day it's going to creep up
on me, and I'm not going to be able to function. It's also
worse because I cannot dream anymore, and dreaming
was my creativity peak for the night, a way to think the
thoughts that float around in that lonesome head of mine.

What I thought, though, is how in one post I can be
completely blank, with just jutting my thoughts in
your face without any of my emotions or opinions
to go along with them; and the next post, I can be
vulnerable and open to those seven (Hi new
followers) people who, for some odd reason, find
my blog appealing.

Look at me, rambling. My apologies.

We Think Thoughts That Trail Before Completion

We think thoughts that trail before completion.

We think what we are taught,
Yet we never stop learning.
Our minds are limited to the knowledge
That has been crammed into our brains
Generation after generation.
It’s become so cliché and recycled
The knowledge is now the customary.
The standard. The expected.
What to do, how to act, how to speak
Has been pumped through our veins
For so long, that now
We are all ghosts of one another,
Carbon Copies.
Copied and pasted.
The clothes we wear
The hairstyles, the trends
Are following a pattern
They’ve etched in our minds.
And now, we’re all trapped
Locked, being the robotic
Clones they’ve made us.
The rut of thinking
Is so common and reused
That just trying to think outside
Of the box, is thinking inside.

We can never get out,
Because we know nothing else
Other than what we were taught.

Pleasing

I live to please. Not for myself, for everybody else. Welcome to my life, my life of pleasing and not being pleased. But isn't that a good thing?
Maybe if everybody started to please everybody else instead of worrying about only pleasing themselves, we'd all be happy? Maybe, just maybe, the sun doesn't revolve around you.

I apologize for the short, simple, sweet, to-the-point posts. And you know I don't usually post twice in one day. I was doing the dishes and this thought just came to me, so I rushed over to put it down. I deem it worthy enough for Blogger's eyes. I just didn't want it to slip away from me, then I would never have it again.

Silly little me, documenting every little interesting thought, dream, word. Silly little me, I need to save my brain-space.

We Are All Newborns

We are all newborns.
Starry eyed and overwhelmed
With whatever bizarre entity stands before us.
With whatever outlandish concept is too perplexing to fathom.
We are all locked onto one thing
Whatever the demented brainwave short-circuited the mind into wanting
Is almost in our grasp.

But. How are we supposed to reach out
When we have no jurisdiction of our movements?
Since we are brainwashed with inept propaganda
And since whatever you see now suddenly becomes the truth.
Fact. Not opinions, not false numbers twisted
By the nimble fingers of big corporation
Trying to sell us their bullshit.
Or the pathetic lies of webzine,
Magazines, that tell you size 0 is beautiful.
This, alike rain, is going to fall
As a shower, regardless of whether you want it to
Or not. And rob us of our innocence.

We are all faux, in the sense that we are created,
Carved by the hands of others,
A work in progress,
A ball of anxiety and confusion
Rolling down a hill
And picking up whatever just happened to be lying there
Just waiting to infiltrate our minds.
Our minds that are now not minds.
Minds that are just dark matter consisting of pandemonium
And the perpetual conflict between the desire to stand out
And the need to blend in.

One more time, we'll try this

"Helloo helllooo. Hi,hey.Hooooo. just.like.that.  You were mine, then gone.just.like.that. okay?

So. ANXIOUS.for nothing whatsoever to happen. Why does the world have to be so despondent?
but. I like it.am it, want it. more and more. But you, child. You?
Wasted half my life on pushing pushing pushing and now this boat is empty. The helm is vacant.
Where is it supposed to take me?
My illiterate dreams,wasted on pushing for something to happen to occur to shine,a hope.

Nothing.

But I can't blame you for resisting resisting resisting my desperate pleas. Oh God, does this.make.me.desperate?
but,one more.time we'll trythisand hope to fucking God."

Oh, could you imagine if I, me, this grammar Nazi, typed like that? My illiterate dreams, I figured since I dream in symbols and numbers and words I'd put some down for you. Yes, I actually saw this in a dream of mine. I'm still trying to figure out what it's supposed to mean. Okay, so, I'll be doing this more often. Putting my dream words, dream sentences, dream whateverthefucks, down here. On this.....blog?

Love you...you know who you are.....don't try to hide it from me.

I know you still read this.

My Father

I don't know where to start with this one. I love him, in all. I don't really know where to go with this either. So let's just start at when my mother got home.

There was fighting, that's all I will say. But again I retreated to my room and thought the unthinkable. Although most things lately - good or bad - make me want to jump right into this pathetic little escape from reality (for lack of better description). But that made me think of him, for some odd reason. So I grabbed my phone and texted him, just to make him smile. And that's when I decided that I just couldn't go through with it, for him.

I think it'd be a lie to say that it's only my father keeping me alive, but right now it feels like he's the main reason. I mean, I couldn't just throw my life at Grim's nimble fingers with being my father's only daughter. I just can't do it. I know, I know, he's not been active in my life of late, but honestly, he's just going through a rough time. He's still a good man, he's still a good father.

I don't want my talent (or lack thereof) to go to waste. I got most of it from him. I mean, this would completely obliterate him, and I just can't do that. I'm his only daughter, better yet, I'm his only child. He's just going through a rough patch, everybody does. I figured if I'm going to stay in this corrupt world I might as well do something productive. Why not help my father through this?

I love him, and he deserves the stars. We both do.

Major and Minor

Thursday, while watching Amelie for the fifth-hundred time, I decided to record La Valse D'Amelie and Comptine D'un Autre on my cell phone and attempt to play it at school the next day. Mr. Coleman had said the piano is such a successful instrument because it can play both loud and soft, major and minor. That got me thinking about how different chords can affect your mood.


It strikes me as odd that you automatically think of something depressing, sorrowful, or even angry when listening to a piece of music written in a minor key. Or that you automatically think of something mirthful and ecstatic, even chipper, when listening to music written in a major key. So I decided to experiment with it, trying to write music in a major or minor key, and ending in the opposite.


The music seems to feel morose with a shine of hope at the end, or the complete opposite effect, jubilant becoming afflicted. I tried switching from major to minor to major again, which gave the piece of music an edge, something unique that allows to be called legitimate art. I like this.


The mood of the song also has to do with tempo. You can have a happy slow song (which can only be achieved if you're an artistic genius) and a fast sad song, but it wouldn't fit as well as a slow depressing song and up-beat happy one.


I tried reading up on what colors or pitch in your voice can affect mood, but found that music is the most effective way of changing from blissful to daunted. I tried watching movies, like Moulin Rouge! (which has been my favorite movie since age seven) and paying attention to scenes with no dialogue, and found that it is mostly music that attaches you to that scene.


Music makes the world go 'round; and, if it is well written, it can change your perspective on a certain situation or change how you perceive the world around you. My next experiment will have to do with tempo and chords, major and minor. I hope to make something so completely unique no one will ever be able to achieve it.

"There is a special kind of truth that lies within music. Truth in the form of a sound, a lyric, a voice, a chord, a key change, a whisper. Truth that can heal you and break your heart in the span of four minutes.


Like love, like air, like heartache, you cant see it, but you know when you feel it." - Claire London


Silly me, I set my goals so high.

Skylar Grey

"In the beginning of our story
The future looked so bright.
But the same turned out so evil,
I don't know why I'm so surprised.
Even angels have
Their wicked schemes.
But you take that
To new extremes.
But you'll always be my hero,
Even though you've lost your mind....

Now there's gravel in our voices,
Glasses shattered from the fight.
And this tug of war, you always win,
Even when I'm right.
'Cause you feed my fables
From your hand
With violent words
And empty threats.
And it's sick
That all these battles
Are what keeps my satisfied."

Two

Striking A Chord

What I love most in this world would probably have to be writing, which I've started doing again lately (Yes, silly little me took up writing again). But that has nothing to do with this. The second thing I love most in this world would have to be music. I'm going to be learning guitar next year, my close friend Allie is going to be teaching me piano, and another friend of mine is going to be teaching me both Ukulele and Banjo. I want to start a revolution in the music industry. It eats people alive, fades those shinning stars. I can't stand it.*

So yes, I love striking a chord. Whether it be F or E Minor, I just love doing it. So I use that everday. People may be selfish or corrupt, but that does not change the fact that they are actually human. They have feelings, just as well as those whom are teased and bullied do. So, whenever I see someone who looks as if they are in need of a smile, or a warm compliment, I give them just that. I strike up a chord, and talk to them.

Maybe if we all notice the feelings of those surrounding us, we can all strike up a chord. We can all smile at one another, and we can all give others the joy of that simple little compliment. Maybe if we opened our eyes, and REALLY look at each other, our worst enemies could become our best friends. Everybody needs a confidence boost every once in a while.

A subtle difference can change a lot.

*((Their music is just another testimate to the fact that anybody can make it in today's music scene. You don't need any talent either - they can just write you a song, auto-tune the heck outta your voice, and stick you in a music video that veils the fact that you can't dance or perform at a level concordant with the amount of attention and money you'll be recieving. In my opinion, those are not real artists. How dare they call that machine-made techno-beat ART? If you do not play your own instruments, or even sing your own songs, I do not believe you are an artist.))

Beautiful

Do you know what I think is beautiful?

People faces when they think something is beautiful. When they can see something worthy of their undivided attention. What society can be. What people can do, and how people can change, and relate, and love. The unscathed, the untouched by humans' filthy hands. Those society hasn't ruined.

Innocence. That is what I think is beautiful.

I guess sometimes the only hope you can hold onto is that, maybe, someday, somewhere, things will change.

There will be no drugs. There will be no irreverence. There will not be a certain way you must act. There will not be certain things you must do to become 'pretty'. There will be no such thing as 'sexy' or 'hot', just beautiful. There will be no manipulating of minds. There will be no liars, or cheaters, or fake people. There will be humans, who understand that they can make mistakes, they will make mistakes, and they should learn from those mistakes.



Someday, somewhere, somehow, everything will be alright.