Will you be my Valentine?

I have never been a big fan of Valentines day. I blame this on my childhood experiences of the card exchange. Each year I would go out of my way to give that special someone a special card. I however would never get a special one in return which led to me being bitter on Valentines day. I would refer to it as "Barf Day", "Loser Love Day" or the ever popular "Single Awareness Day". Isn't it funny how the acronym for Single Awareness Day is SAD? Oh the irony. The bitterness didn't just arise from having no significant other but what Valentines Day consists of. I don't like how the day is committed to showing love for you significant other forced upon us by the greeting card company. It was a made up holiday by Hallmark to increase revenues. Nothing significant happened on that day. No birth of Jesus or anything. The point is, if you love someone shouldn't you show it all year round and instead of just committing one day to it? Cutesy little things should be done all year round. I don't think I would feel intensionally loved by someone if it was just shown once a year by a dozen roses and a pretty card. It is good to show it on Valentines Day too, just don't make it a habit of it happening just that one day. On the other hand you get all those single folk who feel sorry for themselves and bury away in a hole to hide from the shame of being single. But there is not shame. No matter your status on Valentines day, you are loved. You should feel loved. Just because there isn't someone right by your side sending you a dozen roses and a pretty card doesn't mean you are shameful or a loser. You are just different, and loved. So to all my single friends, committed friends or family friends-- Will you be my Valentine? For life? Cause I love you.

"Love is fragile. And we're not always its best caretakers. We just muddle through and do the best we can. And hope this fragile thing survives against all odds."

Imagination...

Imagination is something we all have taken for granted. Remember those days of being a child and playing in your tree fort. Pretending you were stranded in a jungle and the only means of food were what you could find around the yard. Remember playing house and dress up? Wearing your mothers heals as your shaking legs walked up and down the stairs with gleaming ruby red lipstick applied in a sloppy clown smile to your lips? Our imaginations would be able to flourish subconsciously into uncountable fairy tales. I believe I still possess the power to be imaginative. But it is a different kind of imagination. Instead of pretending to be grown up in my mother's heels, I now imagine a life and world without poverty and pain. Without war and struggle. It is disgusting to see all God's amazing creations just thrown away like they are recyclable. The truth is they aren't and we are doing a horrible job of realizing it. The power of imagination is wonderful but dangerous. We can't get too caught up in our false life because we miss out on reality. And reality is striking us everyday in the face with horrible, horrific events occurring around the globe and in our own backyards. We are dangerously getting out of control. We aren't able to see that our imaginations aren't reality-- these things are happening today. But every once in a while it is good to have to hope and hide ourselves in our own little worlds of peace, love and happiness. Maybe one day if all our imaginations are strong enough, it will all come true. "Imagine all the people, living life in peace"-- John Lennon

Funny little miracles.

My friend just had something completely amazing happen to her. She received a greeting from her potential Prince Charming, soul mate, frog. The funny little fairy tale happening took place the other night when she so coincidentally posted her in her status for someone to text her the same night her friend added a random as a friend. The random noticed the status and decided to give her a text. The ended up chatting the whole night and unknowingly may have started the most beautiful love affair of their lives. This being such a fairy tale moment makes me just a lil bit jealous. I've always wanted something special like that happen to me. I've always dreamed of my handsome knight in shining armor riding up on a full white horse with a single red rose to my door. That and I used to dream N'Sync or The Backstreet Boys would sing to me from my driveway up into my window. I was a little lame. No bigs. But I've always wanted some little joy like that to happen to me. It is really cute and such an amazing story comes out of it. I hope it all works out for my nameless friend. Even though it is a bit of a sketchy way to start some form of relationship, he seems really cool. They are pretty much the same person and he could be the good little Christian boy she has been searching for. This is so exciting for her and I am so proud she didn't shy away from this God moment. And it just means I now get to live vicariously through her. Which I love.Shes so bashful! I love her!---"I can hear the bells <3"

I found love...

I have never been more in love with a piece of poetry. Anis Mojgani is such an amazing writer. He finds the words that just flow right into your heart. He finds the words that seep into your soul. The words that make your eyes water and your mouth smile. The words so inspirational it makes me feel like I truly am worth something in this big old world. The poem speaks for itself. I just have one thing to say- Shake the dust...

"This is for the fat girls.

This is for the little brothers.

This is for the school-yard wimps, this is for the childhood bullies who tormented them.

This is for the former prom queen, this is for the milk-crate ball players.

This is for the nighttime cereal eaters and for the retired, elderly Wal-Mart store front door greeters.

Shake the dust.
This is for the benches and the people sitting upon them,

for the bus drivers driving a million broken hymns,

for the men who have to hold down three jobs simply to hold up their children,

for the nighttime schoolers and the midnight bike riders who are trying to fly. Shake the dust.
This is for the two-year-olds who cannot be understood because they speak half-English and half-god.

Shake the dust.
For the girls with the brothers who are going crazy,

for those gym class wall flowers and the twelve-year-olds afraid of taking public showers,

for the kid who's always late to class because he forgets the combination to his lockers,

for the girl who loves somebody else.

Shake the dust.
This is for the hard men, the hard men who want to love but know that is won't come.

For the ones who are forgotten, the ones the amendments do not stand up for.

For the ones who are told to speak only when you are spoken to and then are never spoken to. Speak every time you stand so you do not forget yourself.

Do not let a moment go by that doesn't remind you that your heart beats 900 times a day and that there are enough gallons of blood to make you an ocean.

Do not settle for letting these waves settle and the dust to collect in your veins.
This is for the celibate pedophile who keeps on struggling,

for the poetry teachers and for the people who go on vacations alone.

For the sweat that drips off of Mick Jaggers' singing lips and for the shaking skirt on Tina Turner's shaking hips, for the heavens and for the hells through which Tina has lived.
This is for the tired and for the dreamers and for those families who'll never be like the Cleavers with perfectly made dinners and sons like Wally and the Beaver.
This is for the biggots,

this is for the sexists,

this is for the killers.

This is for the big house, pen-sentenced cats becoming redeemers and for the springtime that always shows up after the winters.
This? This is for you.

Make sure that by the time fisherman returns you are gone.

Because just like the days, I burn both ends and every time I write, every time I open my eyes I am cutting out a part of myself to give to you.
So shake the dust and take me with you when you do for none of this has never been for me.

All that pushes and pulls, pushes and pulls for you.

So grab this world by its clothespins and shake it out again and again and jump on top and take it for a spin and when you hop off shake it again for this is yours.

Make my words worth it, make this not just another poem that I write, not just another poem like just another night that sits heavy above us all.

Walk into it, breathe it in, let is crash through the halls of your arms at the millions of years of millions of poets coursing like blood pumping and pushing making you live, shaking the dust.
So when the world knocks at your front door, clutch the knob and open on up, running forward into its widespread greeting arms with your hands before you, fingertips trembling though they may be"

-

Shake the Dust by Anis Mojgani

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HuydRgVxWg4

Just when you think it couldn't get any worse...

Have you ever felt like the world was out to get you? Technology hated you? Or that bad things always happen in threes so you just wait for the third bad thing to happen just so you don't have to deal with any more misery? Holy have I ever. Let me tell you a little story... Things were going great! I was in love with my fresh start and made so many new friends with familiar faces. School just felt right and I finally felt that I was on track towards something great. It was different but a good different. Then just when I got in the grove of the whole "everything is going right" thing, a big fat wall of "I am going to rain on your parade" hit me. Don't get me wrong no one died or anything, nothing major happened. It was just the little things. The stupid little things that will set you off without even your knowledge. Then the next thing you know you are crying over spilled milk. It all started with the stupid-good-for-nothing cell phone. It broke. Completely. Snapped right in half. No fun. Then, my internet stick broke. Snapped right in half. No fun. Just to make things even worse... the milk went bad. I couldn't catch a break. Everything was not going according to plan. Everything was sour milk. After listening to Florence and the Machine's "The Dog Days Are Over" for the zillionth time trying to convince myself the dog days were really over it struck me- I am the maker of my own happiness. I don't have to feel this way. Even though I am going through a crummy time, things will get better in the end. Don't cry over spilled milk for it is the big picture we really need to look at. It is never worth feeling sorry for yourself. Even when you are in a rut and you are thinking the whole world is against you. It's not. Thats the beauty of life. Although it sometimes doesn't go our way all good will come some day. We just have to wait. And when it gets better, it feels so good! I feel so good. I am so much more optimistic about things. There will always be struggle and there will always be heartache and pain but you just have to remember we are all in this little game together. We are given nothing we can't handle. So push on. Live above what is bringing you down. And for all that it is worth- don't cry over spilled milk.

... and then your phone breaks again. But I am much more optimistic this time around. Because I know life has everything to offer. It will be amazing as...