just going to scrapbook

I was thinking of a moment of my childhood on a certain day, my parents had me in gymnastics, I was around four, and I didn't have a partner. Everyone already had one, so me in my jumpsuit and tennis shoes did the excersizes alone. One day while driving home I remember asking my mom about license plates and what they meant, and why some people were allowed to pay to get them to say funny things like "gtrich" or something, and then I asked if I could stop going to gymnastics anymore. I was tired of no one wanting to be my partner, and it was the beginning of me making sure that if I was unhappy alone I would make changes.


tears lost amongst the partner picking,
the conscripted extra curriculars of youth,
but still counting beats in a bar, heals high,
shouldering cold instant fear and fascination
why they continu to put you through, and then they stop,
one too many days come home and play forts,
one too many nights spent listening,
or crying,
or wishing that there was no class tomorrow,
the snow would just swallow us up,
tennis shoes worn until beam time,
ribbons in the hair,
it’s a feminine quality


I guess this is just going to be a mashup of things I wrote on tumblr and decided to transfer here...so..

I want to go somewhere where beauty isn’t defined by running water or a media screen, but by the amount of sand and grace that can be accumulated withiin one afternoon. I want to explore a nation that isn’t owned by intertechnology or any descendent of Henry Ford’s creations. I want to enrich my life with the whole foods of a place where “supersize” is foreign and “more please” is polite. I don’t like the way “normalcy” is defined here, I don’t like the way woman have to look here, I want to find a place where the people are involved and passionate and the surroundings are infinite. I may not crave strict adventure, but I crave the great, wide, mysterious somewhere