Jealousy

The Yarn of the Nancy Bell
By: Sir William Schwenck Gilbert


"O, elderly man, it's little I know
Of the duties of men of the sea,
But I'll eat my hand if I understand
How you can possibly be..."


This is a classic-in the truest meaning of the word...  It was written in 1866 and I am sure that there are stories out there where this sort of scenario actually happened...  I just wanna be able to write in this style - I think it sounds so awesome, but it confuses me and I fail miserably. 

But in a way you can see what is going on - the man gets caught in a ship wreck after his ship hits a reef and sinks.  It creates good imagery for me... maybe I am just crazy or something but ever since I had to memorize this in fifth grade it's always been in the back of my mind and it's cool.  Even though it talks about cannibalism-(eww) that's what he had to do to survive... and to me, it supports the image of this crazy sailor man who is old and worn out and still traumatized by his experiences at sea, and all messed up from the events that took place-it's really clear what the author is trying to get across but it can be taken in many different ways.  It is kind of tricky to memorize because of the writing style and sometimes it is confusing but it's good work and really old!!!  I like it, and it has been passed down in  my family for a long time so it's special (:  I like it, hopefully you do too!

This is for YOU:Shake the Dust

This is for the big girls.  You are beautiful.  Shake Ya Hips.


This is for the 7-11 employees working graveyard, crossing their fingers they won't get robbed.
This is for the pottery laying in shattered pieces on the floor, where the madman threw it in his fit of rage.


This is for the killers who weren't killers until they were pushed to the limit and went postal.
This is for that lady at the shoe store with a rock the size of China in her shoe, RAWR.


This is for the wrestlers, Pin 'em down.
This is for the football players.  Swag.


This is for the balloon that's afraid of heights and the kite that is afraid of flying.


This is for the dog that's afraid to bite.


This is for the ring sitting in the case at the jewelry store wishing for a finger to rest on.
This is for the person who sold that ring to the pawn shop, because it didn't work out.


This is for the teddy bear with crooked zig-zag stitching and one button eye sitting on the back of the shelf at the toy store waiting for someone to come along who will love him for who he is.


This is for the photo album of happy memories shoved in the back of the musty closet being feasted on by moths that are eating away the good times and forgotten photographs.


This is for all the spirits that surround us every single day, and the people who wish to understand them. 


This is for the almost 2-year old that no one can understand because he speaks half English, half God.


This is for the gym class wall flowers.


This is for the abused pets, children and adults.


This is for the kid who hasn't had lunch money since the first day of school and sits by himself in a corner alone, while everyone goes on with their busy lives, never once turning their attention away from themselves and onto him.  Just once.


This is for the girl who listens to the yelling and screaming, thinking that if she wasn't there things would be better for everyone.  
This is for that same girl who was once planning ways to disappear, and her plan to be happy no matter what happened.


This is for the kids who wish they could be somebody.


This is for the girl who sees her reflection and finally realizes she is beautiful.


This is for you.  This is for me.  This is for the everybody's, the nobody's and the wanna-be-somebody's.

This is for the people who know how to live.

To the people who treat everyone as an equal.  

And this is for the man who lives fully and is prepared to die at any time.

Shake the Dust.

Still Looking for the Clarity of my Voice

I am still looking for the clarity of my voice...


Not because I want to be heard - but because I NEED to be heard.  
If not by an audience - at least let me hear myself.


When I was a kid I didn't care about other peoples problems. 
As I grew older I began to care more & more.


I began to stop worrying about myself and more about other people.


I stopped making life treat me kind, and as I stayed up into the early hours of the morning helping friends through their difficulties, I began to watch my life slip away.  


I cared more about keeping them happy and non-suicidal then trying to watch out for myself.
I watched people I loved and needed slip out of my reach.


I watched my once brilliant mind go to mush. 
I began sinking deeper into my icy box of stone cold walls I had thrown up around myself.  


The walls were made up of my insecurities, my problems and my insults from myself and others. 


I was a stranger to myself.
I was running from my mind.


Through a musty labyrinth with green mold growing up the walls and a temperature low enough to freeze your heart mid-beat. 


I was running aimlessly through the twisted maze, trying to decipher what the voice in the back of my head was screaming at me...


Daylight sliced through the darkness, and into the dusty recesses of my mind- and realization hit.


I kept forgetting to be kind to myself.
I still forget that.


Life was beautiful-I just needed to open my eyes enough to see that.


There are moments I could never forget, but I could try.


Moments I can remember where I tricked people into thinking that I am something I am not.  


Regrets. 


Hidden in there somewhere - trying to hide as my mental broom swept through the cob-web filled closets of my core -they were trying to grasp the doorjamb in one last attempt to stay before getting shut out in the cold.  


No one wants to hear what I wanna say.


But I can keep talking to myself-I have not given up on trying to coax this injured soul out of the stone box where it sits.


My mind is finally beginning to grasp the concept of living outside of the box.


I am remembering to tie my shoes, match my socks and paint my toenails.


I may still flip my pillows to the cold side when I wake up during the night, and I may still come across as annoying and obnoxious just because. 


But I am getting worse at forgetting.  


I still forget to stop feeling guilty about things beyond my control and I may still forget to say my prayers ~


But the clarity is coming back - One. Blurry. Pixel. At A Time.