Butternut Squash

Fact: Two plastic bags take up 72 percent less landfill space than one paper bag.

I’m drowning.

I have looked across the shimmering clear surface of education. Shadows play in the silver ripples like children laughing merrily to one another. The gentle lull of the water is pulled against the bank is pulled by the soft, unseen tug of the moon’s gravity, and I knew that this beauty alone was the true beauty of the endeavor.

Each year I would dip my toe into this living mirror of learning, gasping quietly to myself, “Oh! It’s a little chilly.” But then I would ease myself into the process, ease myself into the water and into the cycle of school. With this I would continue on the year, faltering here and there, but as a whole, swimming briskly.

This year was different. I dipped my toe in out of basic routine; not gasping this time, for it wasn’t so cold. Then I eyed the water menacingly, almost excitedly, as if it had held me back for so long. I then took a few steps back and dove off the dock, dove into the crystal clarity of hard truths, math equations, late night studies and stockpiled exhaustion. Immediately my chest seized up from the icy liquid, my limbs seemed too big for my body and I rendered them nearly useless as I flailed toward the surface of the pool. Above me lay the high expectations, low grades and utmost effort that lived in vain.

Occasionally I would manage to press my lips above the beautiful waters that suddenly seemed so malevolent, only to be sucked down again by an unforeseen undertow that carried me away from where I needed to be.

And I knew I was drowning, slowly but surely, I was.

I am.

[CD]

It has Begun and Shall Begin Again.

Fact: The bonnets and caps of city fire hydrants are painted certain colors to alert firefighters to the amount of water pressure available from that hydrant.

There is a lot more to life than happiness, than equality and beauty. Yet all else I’ve tried desperately to sensor, to cut off any vulgar characteristics or actions, to mark such things impossible. Despite my efforts there is no way around the malevolent fraction of life. It exists in places you least thought, in times you least need. But still it’s there, tumbling blindly with the better qualities I search so frantically for. Without these atrocities the elation would have no meaning, there would be no reference to declare that such a coincidence is actually a wonderful thing. Without evil nothing can be defined, without it good would be unrecognizable in the facets of life.

[CD]

"Twinkie: Deconstructed"!

Fact: There is one strand of corn silk for each kernel on an ear of corn.

Curiosity is,

By nature,

Common.

The results are rare.

Lead in death,

Likewise in imagination.

A fascination beyond compare.

[CD]

We Define Alive

Fact: The flashes of colored light you see when you rub your eyes are called “phosphenes.”

I am an amature
with no desire to fail
yet I'm too thoughtful to write
I'm to empty to feel.

[CD]

I Know That she will Live Forever, she Won't Ever Die

Fact: Nightmares can be an indication of a fear that needs to be acknowledged and confronted. It is a way for our subconscious to make up take notice. "Pay attention!"

(What does this mean for me?)

Last night I dreamed a horrid sickening dream of vivid clarity and repulsion. The fact is that one of my friends has died recently of cancer and I have failed to mourn her properly, an upsetting inactivity in my mind, for I feel I was not truly moved by her death to the point that I should have been. It makes me feel less human.

So why end dreams with human emotion?

We were all gathered for the morbid reception after the funeral, it was much more intimate than I thought it would be, reminding me so lucidly of a long forgotten birthday party at their house before any tragedy had befell this undeserving family. We were all gathered in the small family room, speaking to one another of gruesome concepts like death when word that one of my other friend’s father had killed him self erupted. This in itself was an awful calamity, worthy of extended lamenting. And then for some reason that had gone undetected, the mirror behind the mother of the girl who had died shattered. We all began picking up the pieces carefully, and as I was throwing one away I noticed that the mother was turning over a particularly sharp triangular shard in her hand. I watched in a detached way as she held the shard to her chest. Then I snapped into action, screaming for her to stop and lunging for her, but it was too late, she had pierced her heart.

This was far too much for me to handle. I sprinted out of the house, running down the street to an abandon home where a life size, large round clay container lingered in the shadows. I remembered that I had hidden in this container before and quickly befell to such actions again.

This container I recalled from other dreams, for all my dreams occur within the same areas and boundaries.

Here I shook in terror but for an unknown reason I could not cry. I did not know how, but I knew, everyone at that party would eventually die, if not by their own means then by another’s ends. I refused to think that I too would fall to this fate, instead imagining how I could save each one.

I ended up crawling outside and meeting with a few others by an unused train station that was currently being used for storage. Here I was accused for being a coward where I spat back with all fire the many battles I had endured in pervious adventures. After this meeting everything seemed to return to normal apart from my perpetual thoughts of ultimate death that hung over every thought in my mind like a dark omniscient cloud.

And then they began to die.

I was babysitting a number of small children when a murderer came for them. Though I cannot recall the particular deaths of each, I had visions of them dying right before they actually would and with these visions I would try desperately to get them away, to save them, but no matter what I did they would perish.

The last death resonated with me in a sickening and unforgettable way. There were three children in my front yard, including me, and we were speaking of the wreaths we had made of the leaves from the trees when someone pulled in my driveway. Terror and apprehension struck as a vision of one of the girl’s death occurred in my mind. Her name was Sarah; she was small with dark hair and round cheeks. I quickly grabbed her and began pulling her away from the car who’s owner had stepped out to reveal an equally small man, very short and stalky with dark features. I was pulling her across the street now where the cornfields awaited, determined not to let her die. Her face was full of alarm as she look up to me, and I returned this gesture as we went further.

“I will kill her.” He grunted in an assured tone.

“I won’t allow it.” I barked back with authority.

And then the man pulled out a gun and aimed it at us. I halted in my tracks, staring down the face of the barrel in a trembling display.

“Then either you die or she dies.” He uttered in a throaty voice.

The look of indecision was evident on my face while I refused to meet the gaze of the young girl Sarah that I held so tightly in my arms.

I knew not how much time had transpired before I spoke, but I was sure the man thought he knew what my next actions would be. He was wrong.

“Dying is not an option.” I murmured, and with great difficulty I let go of Sarah who fell to the pavement in ultimate weakness. The man, clearly surprised but unwilling to hesitate leaped onto Sarah with a bladed knife. I turned my head away and heaved over into the grass on the side of the road.

I know not how, though nothing is impossible in my mind, but at this point my entire body turned purple.

Latter, my mother was speaking to me in a whirled furry.

“You let her die? How could you!” She seemed rather animated.

“It was my life or her’s, and when I thought of the rest of mine suddenly being gone I refused the concept, this life is all that’s certain to me.”

And then I woke, curled tightly in a ball, trembling with my eyes squeezed shut. I lay like this for so long, terrified of myself. I could not seem to calm down, and refused to move, but eventually my eyes pealed open. There was a strange noise coming from the right side of my room that sounded like tapping. My chest seized up as I held my breath and waited for it to conclude. Finally it did and I tried to convince myself it was a rodent. In peroration I eventually heaved over onto my left side, facing the window which was beginning to show a dull sunrise at 5:18 am. Exhausted and assuredly hating myself for knowing that, should that dream had actually transpired the outcome may very well have been the same, I fell back into a fitful slumber of chase and run dreams.

[CD]