through these lenses

Archive for August 2008


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This summer, I took a class for my degree, but it ended up feeling like a class I might have taken for my own fun. It was a writing (and how to grade it) class and our professor lent me a really great idea. It’s a wonderful idea for the classroom, but for me…it’s a just a plain ol wonderful outlet for words. She read this one book by this one guy while she was in this one hotel in Hong Kong and immediately caught on to this guy’s idea.

Seeds. Writing just a bit of whatever you want to possibly, eventually, maybe develop into something whole. a plant. I LOVE it. You keep a folder for all of your seeds to sit in. Mine was green, appropriately. We had to write 30 seeds for a grade and were to develop 3 of them for “celebration” services we had throughout the class.

I loved this and I already miss writing them…so i’m going to share some here.

Who knew I’d ever be so into gardening?

Seed # 4         7.13.08

I’ve often wondered why I don’t like pets. Dogs specifically receive my hatred. They’ve really done nothing to deserve it, but i just keep on disapproving of their every way. Their every way turns into their every smell, which persuades me to notice their every lick and bark, which makes me disgusted at their urinating habits. All of these things, my irritations, seem to result from a tall halogen lamp and a stuffed animal for a dog named Lady.

Written by throughtheselenses

August 9, 2008 at 4:32 am

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sift me, please

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I cannot stop moving. I cannot sit still. hey, you’d think it was the coffee i just made at 3:50 in the afternoon …NOPE…I made the coffee to make me be productive. strange.

today’s been that. strange. the end of something, the beginning of another. and a million other mysterious things that i can’t decipher. it’s just one of those days that makes me think and think and think and think.

…drinking coffee that’s not really mine, because i can’t find the container i bought the other day
…listening to music that’s not mine, because i’m tired of all my faded options.
…wanting to sit, because i know there’s something in me that needs to be sifted through once i do.

I just can’t escape it. there’s this chord in me that breaks when a certain thing happens. I usually see the thing, sometimes i hear of it, never really smell or taste it..but i always, ALWAYS feel it. It rumbles inside my core, echoing itself against the memories of previous violent storms. I just hate it, but also feel so much familiarity and identity there too. Today, there was no lighting before the boom to warn me. I was at the movies with a beloved friend and while just sitting there, loving the fact that it was 10:45 a.m. and i paid a mere $2.50 for a good flick…BAM!!….hello broken chord. Um…please stop being broken. I’m supposed to be escaping reality right now with with my friend. Why stupid chord, are you sitting next to me? Why are you creeping yourself up into my heart again, being broken where broken is all you really know?

So…I come home and move. i move from my washing machine to my desk, from my dishwasher to my couch, from my mail box to my car, from my cell phone to my coffee pot.

I should have made decaf.

father…sift me thoroughly, sift me real.

Written by throughtheselenses

August 8, 2008 at 5:50 am

Posted in Uncategorized