Recent Rhymes

I used to write poetry, A LOT.
When I started writing short stories and self-assigned essays I determined that I had formerly written mostly poetry because I didn't really understand how to put eloquent sentences together. How to carry them onto each other in a relevant and smooth transition. I thought I wrote poetry because I could only express in short fragments that were often altered from the original thought for the sake of rhyming. But now I know that my poetry is something I write when full sentences are too much, too stiff and stuffy.(and of course cause poetry makes life sound prettier) And though my poetry is very rare these days, here are a few rhymes that have popped up amidst the stiff and stuffy documentations of everyday life.

(1)
For about two weeks I bought into everything you said
I let you flatter me
let your sweet words go to my head.
I laid in our crib of curious desire
forgot how to walk
convinced myself I slept cause I was tired.
The mobile of your words tinkered round
above our heads
its tune, melodramatic
its colors, passionate shades of red.
I'd whine for your attention
and cry for your touch
I never came right out and told you things
I was afraid of talking too much.

(2)
"Where are these little tears coming from?"
He swore he wanted to know
he begged as he held me
I wouldn't speak but I wouldn't let go.
They're every fear I haven't voiced
and a few I should have explained
They're things I'd tell him if I had no choice
but I'm still scared he'll call me by her name.

(3)
If I was more unaware then
I'd be more like you
I'd run raging, rampant and
oblivious
to who I am.
That's still the mystery for you:
who was I when I was someone
before you ever knew?
That's the case you've yet to open
yet to realize it holds discussion
If I follow with the stats
you'll be much like him
where we're at will be the place
I've already seen her in.

(4)
You tell me stories about Happily Ever After
In earlier times I would have responded with laughter
Now I just listen for the sound of pretense
for that misguiding pause that always says
It's not coming to you naturally
you have to try
you don't know what to say to me
you're bordering lies.

(5)
"The thought of you with another guy makes me sick."
Tell me why, for some reason, I don't buy it.
Why since you lied about your ignorance
everything you say is lacking substance.
Suddenly I'm hearing the uncertainty in your voice
and now what should be meaningful is an irritating noise
Until your motive is absolutely clear
my affection is drenched in fear.

(6)
Stranded in lines sketched across
my sectional
spun till I'm dizzy around this
perpetual
E6B, which reminds me,
I move at inconsistant speeds.
Plotting courses on busy maps
add the weight and then subtract
anysort of skill from the route to
my destination
just moments from the touchdown flare
with no room for hesitation.

Distractions are Dangerous

Alright, here's the thing...

I want to own a typewriter and put it in an empty room with an unevenly stained wooden floor. It would sit on the floor and only occassionaly atop a crate or whatever else I choose to elevate it on. It would be constantly on the verge of running out of ribbon or ink or whatever else necessary to keep it useful. Windows would be the only light and therefore any writing done in the night hours would be completely void of editing, frustrating marvels the next morning.
And this all stems from my age old dream to successfully write a novel... a goal I've shoved so far back in my mind that I almost forgot it until recently.
Recently, when prose of Timothy Sweet ran through my head and I remembered how dear he'd been to me. Timothy, who was "not a man of courtships and romances..." flew back into my head and I wondered where I'd left him. Wandering a park in which sat a girl in a pink coat reading a collection of the cambridge poets, I believe. I tried to reimagine him, reach into his character and pull out words, sentences, paragraphs that would define him... and came out with nothing.

A typewriter came to mind and I wanted to leave this life of propellers and centerlines for that ancient mechanism and a solitary room. The truth is, I'd last maybe two days, crank out perhaps fifty pages of stream of consciousness bullshit and then progress would go to hell and I'd sit, face out the window, typewriter at my back wondering if the ceiling would permit a vfr flight. It doesn't stop there. I'd find my way out of that room and back into this damn, addictive cockpit and then... the pen in my hand would start scribbling nonsensical poems onto my kneeboard originally intended for atis weather updates and radio frequency change reminders.
This indecision over what I want to spend my time doing causes me to never be more than mediocre at anything I attempt to do. Because I can never dedicate myself to one craft... I have goal reaching ADHD

Stage Check (without the mics and spotlights)

So there's this thing we... wow, I can actually include myself in this... we pilots must do which is quite similar to, yet far more terrifying than, a driver's test. It's called (drum roll) a stage check. I know almost nothing about it except that everyone has a sort of hushed reverance and honest sincerity when they tell you about them and it consists of an oral examination followed by, well, basically taking a total stranger up in a plane with you and performing the maneuvers they tell you to do. I have a little outline study guide that's only two pages long and little over ten hours as pilot in command of an airplane and now I have to do a stage check! (I'm including a very adorable video by pixar that most precisely portrays the feelings that accompany such a time as I'm in.
I've been studying my ass off and I still feel clueless. I'm constantly confusing whether I need 5 miles visibility in Class D airspace or 3. And are those statute or nautical miles? I know faaar more acronyms than any one person should ever have to know: TOMATOFLAMES, AV1ATE (yes that's a 1), DRAW Fighter Planes... the list of acronyms is endless. If there's a way to turn something into an acronym or abbreviate it.. oh we do it.
I recite emergency procedures in my dreams "Fuel shutoff valve-on, mixture-idle, fuel pump-off.." I find performance charts everywhere! in all my clothes pockets, in all my drawers... i'm swimming in weight and balance calculations. I check the metar even on days when I'm not flying just because it has the most accurate weather conditions. Life goes on pause the moment I hear an engine overhead, I just have to see it, have to see if I can make out what plane it is. I spend late nights in airplane hangars asking mechanics questions about carburetor intake manifolds. I don't even know me anymore. All I know is planes.
And yet, I don't feel I know enough to pass my first stage check... I'm going absolutely insane with anxiety as though this one evaluation determines my whole life. Perhaps it does, but I'll never know till I soldier my way through it. Let's hope I don't kill my stage pilot!
"Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles, they will walk and not grow weary, they will run and not be faint."

Strangers Know Me Better

I was shaking

clean as hell

close to breaking

you could tell

words I tried making

only failed

till you said the words

I needed unveiled,

"Stars fall from greater heights,

you're still up there, you're still bright."

and all the faces I'd seen on the way

all the places that made me feel insane

crumbled under your confidence

that I was bound for more than this.

"Pity, we never knew each other."

"In a way, I prefer this brief encounter."

"You mean I'm not something you could see enduring?"

"I mean unfamiliarity isn't past curing."

I'm Not Bold Enough to be Noble

(500) Days of Summer is a perfect example... of what I'd always thought I'd never do. Summer had, in my opinion, the perfect man: Joseph Gordon Levitt, a quirky-sweet boy with an icredibly classic yet edgy style. and for goodness sakes, he role played in like... walmart or wherever with her! Yet she said, "I'll pass." this has always boggled my mind, yet I've done the SAME EXACT thing on multiple occasions.

Where does this come from? This inability to see something so clearly in front of me, or rather, to see it and ignore it. I just enjoy reeling them in and then tossing them back... what the hell is wrong with me? And I'll never admit it, I'll never admit I was ever emotionally attached and I just want to know where this came from!

I'm not unfeeling; I'm not un-observant. But I try to play it off like I am. You know what, I feel safer if I'm the one saying 'no', and if I say it first they don't have a chance to say it. Fear, it comes from fear. I fool people because I'm not noble enough to tell them the truth.

I am, in essence, a terrible person. Or perhaps... i just haven't met someone who makes me want to risk myself. Is that such a bad thing? Can I help it if the people I know just don't inspire me to say "even if I get hurt, the wholehearted attempt will be worth it" ? It's not their fault either... it's the fault of fate.

My bookbag weighed at LEAST ten pounds, I had to make it from one end of the campus to the complete opposite end in 15 minutes, got to class 3 minutes late, had the very last seat in the room, couldn't see the professor or the board, followed only by ear, finally got back to the dorm with incredibly sore calves only to find that my student ID is lost, nothing gives a clear explanation of the shuttle times or where they depart from. I want to say F my life... but I have a peace in God. He's gotten me through thicker forests than this and I know he's got an amazing plan.
I'm going to fight my way through this, no way am I giving this big of a dream up!!

I've ALWAYS wanted to go away, far away, for college. And I always considered my near and dear ones, and how unselfish people give up their dreams to stay with the people they love. But I figured it was too soon in my life to make those kind of huge choices: stay or go for it.
I guess I just never considered MY side... you know, the part where I'm left alone too. I don't want to say I have regrets, it's too soon for that too. But this is the first hour being truly ALONE. I never understood alone-ness, not till now. There is quite literally no familiar face that I can sit down in front of and feel understood when I talk to. Damn, I have to build these incredibly trusting relationships all over and get a good education at the same time!
Life is exhausting. But I chose this. I need to keep reminding myself of that, cause now, if I fail I'm failing myself. I also need to keep myself excited for this. If I'm energetic and pumped for it, it'll be soo much easier to be successful. Constant prayer and self discipline are going to be my best friends for the next six months.