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GreeNkiSS2
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read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Janice
Birthday: 8/24/1990
Gender: Female
Interests: [Music]Something Corporate, Gwen Stefani, Jack Johnson
[Books]Memoirs of a Geisha, Tuesdays with Morrie, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Notebook
[Movies]The Notebook, White Chicks, The Incredibles
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  greeenpeach
Member Since:
12/29/2002
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| so.. my cousin got accepted into Parson's university. i dedicate this post to her dream and to her accomplishments. and i must be pretty damn proud of her cuz i havent' written in this thing for like half a year.
i've grown up with kids whose parents have steered their lives. and when i start to question their intentions, it usually narrows down to love. but how can a parent love a child so much that they prevent their kids from discovering their own aspirations? to me, that's something i don't think i'll ever understand. but of course i'm scared. i'm scared that everything i've planned to happen for the future won't happen. i admire those people that live for right now. It seems like they'd never be afraid about what happens next.
you learn a little bit from everybody. from my acquaintances/friends/family/experiences, i've learned that living for the future doesn't always ensure happiness, and there's always got to be that bit of spontaneity that makes it all the more interesting. but thanks denise, for being my live-for-the-moment gal.. i know that it isn't you all the time, but your craziness influences the craziness in me, and makes me different. congratulations on new york cuz& i love you so much. :]
mookie!
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| I knew a boy. His eyes came first.
Blue. Like the sea.
There was a tree and it was green
and cars with mother's picking up their children
and of course the yellow bus.
But that is irrelevant.
I called him Michael and he laughed.
He was the prettiest thing I had seen that day.
I had seen many things that day, but none as pretty.
It was the first day of many new days.
I called him Andrew and he laughed.
"Guess again," he said to me.
"No thank you," said I in response.
"I would like to call you Andrew for a bit longer."
He laughed.
We played.
All sorts of games.
Sometimes I watched him play because
he was a boy. brambly and tousled
and i was a girl
there were many girls, i'm sure.
but it never mattered.
because he was mine
in the same way that i was his
we played. that's all.
and we loved it.
we loved to play anything.
imagination.
because he gave that to me.
not a person, but an idea
a child, like peter.
peter and the lost boys.
reckless tyrants.
pirates, and buckaneers
lions and samurai.
everyday something new
a neverending adventure.
a nearby forest and some sticks-
an excuse for a bloody battle.
"silly boys," echoed a melodious voice.
"tricks are for kids."
it's like a girl to want to grow.
wendy did.
didn't she?
she said that everybody must grow up.
sooner or later.
i am no Wendy.
i don't know who i am,
but if there is a Neverland
i cannot reminisce upon the day that i left.
it was on the island
between the indian burial grounds
(peter liked the indians.
he hollered and shouted
in attempt to communicate
with them)
and the rainbow waters of mermaid lagoon.
the lost boys were plotting a game of treasure.
the mermaids were plotting another.
they swam to me and flipped their fins
high in the air.
if i played with them, i could win.
a conch shell.
and with it, i could call to all the creatures
of the ocean.
and ask of them to do my bidding.
intrigue.
with bare feet, i ran towards the hideout.
underneath the branches, and entwined
into the evergreen shrubbery- a tunnel.
in sight-empty beds.
in ears-silence.
a visitor!
it must be Rufio.
we loved Rufio.
"I will be back soon lost boys," said I.
"I will not forget our games."
I played.
The conch shell was mine.
And with it, I called out to all the
creatures of the ocean.
and asked of them to do my bidding.
One day, as I rode on the
back of a seahorse
through King Triton's lair,
a school of fish swam past
bubbling gossips that would fill a tub.
Rufio had stole a ship
and rafted his way towards
the Southern Islands.
I miss pirates.
I shall swim back
and play with the lost boys.
Treasure should be over by now.
"Peter, is that you?" I asked.
He looked up.
A smile, then a nod.
It's been too long.
I ran my eyes through his,
blue.
Smiling too, I ask,
"Shall we take a drink together?
A sip from the fountain of youth?"
A smile. A nod.
Is this all?
I hesitated. I smiled back.
"Alright Peter."
"I must go back to my game.
The mermaids- they fuss."
Once again
I took hold of the conch.
it was heavy.
ah yes-
i remember it now.
the day I left neverland.
peter loved wendy.
she had stories.
wendy kept peter's Shadow
inside a drawer.
she locked it up tight.
and held the key-
a string upon her breast.
that day,
i had asked Peter if he had found the treasure
that day,
i had asked Peter why he was alone
in the hideout
that day,
i had asked Peter if he had time, for an old friend.
that day,
the school of fish swam by once more.
that Day,
Peter had left Neverland.
I concluded
I observed
that day,
Peter planned on meeting Wendy.
he did not want to play a game anymore.
games were tricks.
tricks were for kids.
besides,
he was curious about his shadow.
what did it look like,
feel like
sound like?
would peter be a different boy
with a shadow.
questions, questions,
Gone.
Neverland was a thing of the past.
I did not anger myself over his curiosity
but I did cry.
like most little girls do.
I followed him from afar.
I, too, left Neverland.
I observed.
Wishing that I could speak
to him.
My words came out
differently- not like they used to.
It was just a jingle jangling of noise,
which to him, I thought sounded cluttered.
Quietness. Peace would be better
between us.
I will leave
and grow up myself.
Often times,
I felt him struggle.
Everytime,
I said nothing more
than a quick Hello.
There was nothing more to say.
A conversation never ran more than
a few short meaningless sentences.
In truth,
it was one of the most difficult things
in my life.
to lose someone, unlike anybody else.
and to hear things,
reluctant to believe that they could
ever be true.
for a time,
most recently,
there was nothing i felt but anger.
all i could see was his shadow.
but for a time,
even more recently,
i ask:
what has anger ever done to solve anything in this world?
"Tink?" he said.
"Yes Andrew?" I responded.
"You have been awful quiet.
Why did you stop playing the game?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, I was daydreaming. We can play again if you'd like."
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| Chevy's Fundraiser on Tuesday August 29th!!
Bring a flyer, invite your friends & family. The fundraiser lasts all day long =]
Support 2008!
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