But are you sure you know that it's you?
It could be someone else, you know.
It could be entirely not who you'd expect.
It could be someone you've never met.
You don't know all that much of me, after all.
All I'm saying is, you've gone farther than most,
and that, my good friend, is reason to boast.
Not that I'm some self-proclaimed prize.
I just usually don't let people really see me inside.
So you, yes you, who may or not know who you are,
I'm a little impressed. You've raised high the bar...

Whelp, the butterflies are flying,

and so are the birds,

A bundle of varied meanings

hidden behind words.

You, yes you,

you know who you are,

have let them fly out much more far

than they have previously

during the time of my life.

And so, thanks.

I appreciate it.

I think it's something I like.

I love poetry. I love it because the writer can be writing about something completely abstract and the reader may never know or come to find out what the origin of the poem came from or was for. A poem can appear to be blatently about one thing, yet can acutally be referring to something completely unknown to the surface reader. Anyways, here's a poem. You'll probably have no idea what it's about. Or, you may read it and think you know, but really, you won't. And how could you, unless you were inside my brain?:

You silly old thing!

Well, young thing for now.

Soon one day,

you might make your father proud.

You've got a bit of wisdom

packed in that curious brain of yours,

and to others, mostly all,

you're a "keeper" to the core.

But to me (who am I

but a wanderer just like you?)

you're a little on the early side

of commitment through and through.

So how shall I repsond

to such advances as last evening?

My heart is a bit unsure,

And my mind is ever pining.

You see, it takes a while

for my heart to appreciate

even those who come so purely,

having no intentions to debate.

And to add to such intricacies,

to add to the web here laid,

I really only come to love

affections dully made.

It takes a while,

a bit of time,

to mature and turn into

something worth investing in.

Should I invest in you?

Who knows?

I don't

As of now.

How could I?

Autumn Relief

I am currently sitting on the second floor of the Ace Hotel, contently sipping my Stumptown coffee, textbooks and notebooks sprawled across one of their black tables, lit dimply by a single lamp. Fleet Foxes is playing over the sound system, and there's a steady hum of baristas steaming and making coffees downstairs. This is one of the things I look forward to most about Autumn and being in college. 

The last four weeks of my life have been filled with busyness just over the limit of being considered healthy. It's good to be busy and have things to do, but for the last month, I've gotten an average of five hours of sleep a night (for the regular me, eight hours of sleep is a minimum for functioning correctly in every-day life), have always had the next thing on my to-do lis in my mind, and have developed what seems like permanent dark circles under my eyes (good thing I have Bare Minerals!). I asked my mom a few nights ago if I looked tired, and she retorted lovingly with, "Um. Duh." Yeah, I'm worn out.

Last night, I wrote rules for myself. Other than Friday nights, I'm only allowing myself one day of the week out, and my personal curfew for going to bed is now 10:30. I also pulled out of a big commitment I've involved myself in for the last two months. Simply by doing that, a huge weight was lifted off of my shoulders. Also, my dear friend Avena is here from Seattle for a few days, which, in a weird way, has really relaxed me. Last night we had appetizers at Greek Cuisina, then went to Portland City Grill for sushi and virgin strawberry daiquiris. We walked the rainy city streets, took pictures, and got home late, but it felt good to be with someone who gets me on many different levels than lots of people. And now I'm rambling.

The moral of this blog is this: I've been worn out, I'm determining myself to not be so, I'm at the Ace, and am already feeling quite relieved.

Boom.

New Find...

Oh man, have I forgotten the glory of discovering a good book!

Recently, I posted a status update on facebook saying, "Anyone have any good book recommendations?" I have always loved reading, and I often take (a little too much) pride in my growing library at home, but in the last six months or so, I simply haven't gotten around to reading anything outside of the Bible and textbooks. And now that Autumn has arrived with its brisk winds and turning of the leaves, I have especially craved finding a book that would pull me in and compliment me well with a blanket and hot tea by my side. Thus, I posted my status update and received a ton of responses (26 I think?). I simply had no idea which recommendation I should take, so I closed my eyes, twirled my finger around, placed it gently on my computer screen, and decided to buy the book my finger landed on first: Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis. I bought it on Half.com, received it yesterday in the mail, and am now three quarters of the way through it. It's exactly the book that I've been craving. Hemingway has whit that makes me giggle out loud, Tozer writes with such thickness that I must reread each paragraph he writes in order to absorb it all, Sue Monk Kidd writes in a way that simply warms the heart, but Lewis in TWHF writes with the same drive and excitement that Tolkien exhibits in The Hobbit. It's that magical, epicness that leaves a wake in the reader's mind after the book is put down.

My plan last evening was to be in bed by 9:30, being that I'm trying to get over being sick. Yet, I didn't sleep until 11:30 due to my hands and eyes being glued to the pages on my new find...

Whee!

Scatterbrained 5

She doesn't even have any room to breathe.

Well, she's got some, 

but not much--

just a little jail cell window

with fresh air that comes through,

yet is quite close to the ceiling,

so it's unreachable.

And this inmate was meant to be released last year!

Crying shame, it is.

Though, 

she's made the best of it,

and often forgets that she's even bound up.

But, 

every once in a while,

she looks up and sees those gray, lonely walls,

as cruel as they are familiar.

She takes a good, hard look at 'em,

cries a tear or two,

then reminds herself 

that she's stuck for a reason,

even if she has no clue what the reason may be.

And again,

she goes back to making the best of things,

hopeful and longing

for what the future might bring...

Freedom?

Maybe.

But maybe

not.

A lesson?

(that can only be learned

by solitary confinement?

I've never heard of such thing).

But she tells herself 

there is such a thing.

And she goes on believing...

Autumn Term and Chocolate

And so the Autumn term has begun here in P-town, and the first week of classes has proved, yet again, to do what it has always done: clamor my long-time empty to-do list with too many things to reasonably complete in a week's time. Though, as much as the first week of classes always frazzles me up a bit, I completely and utterly love being in college. I love riding the bus here and being downtown. I love being on a campus that holds so many diverse people. I love studying in the park blocks when the sun is shining (the "park blocks" are a line of blocks that spreads the length of the city and are dedicated to grass, benches, statues, and very large trees, similar to, though not as romantic as, Central Park). And, I love learning. Yet, there are two things here at PSU that I have come to find will probably be the death of me: second-hand smoke and textbook prices. Both of these agents for my death that plague Portland State seem like a giant that can't be beat. PSU is known for commuters riding their bikes to school, saving gas and the planet from harmful exhaust emissions. Yet, so many people smoke within 30 feet of most building entrances that I've begun to have this yearning desire to bring a gas mask with me and put it on before I go outside. I guess we'll know if it affected me 30 years from now when I have lung cancer. That is, if I don't die from hunger first, being that all my money right now is going to textbooks. I will, Lord-willing, graduate in three years with a degree, but at the same time I'll also most likely be living on the streets begging for food. Ha.

On a lighter note, I had a nice walk yesterday. There's this great little chocolate place called Cacoa here in Portland, and on my walk yesterday after class, I discovered that they have a second, more convenient location (that's closer to PSU). Upon finding it, I burst in the doors, only to have the warm, glorious smell of chocolate wafted onto my face. This place is the best. They serve what they call "liquid chocolate" that is, for lack of a better word, divine. It's not hot chocolate, though it is hot, and it's not like chocolate syrup, though it is rich. It's something that cannot truly be described unless experienced first-hand. And for a girl especially, this place can be quite a comfort during certain periods of time in the year. 

Anyways, so I spent a good ten minutes in line to get a cup of this stuff. I was so excited, but then came to my senses and remembered that I am on a VERY tight budget right now (refer back to section on textbooks), and after a 2 or 3-minute brawl between my mind and my stomach, I finally decided to walk out. Yet, I had spent so much time in line and sewed so much into my excitement of getting this drink, and it was now my turn to order with people waiting behind me, I settled for asking the lady behind the counter what the hours were of Cacoa and if they were open on Sunday in a British accent. I love talking in a British accent with my friends to just be silly, but doing so in public with no one who knew me around, watching the sales lady's eyes perk up a bit upon my speaking, seemed to humor and satisfy me greatly...

All this nonsense to say, the year has begun!

(ALSO: I just bought Jared Anderson's cd called "People of Troy"...there's only ever been one cd that I can listen to over and over and over and it always seems new, and that's Chris Thile's "Deceiver." Yet, since I bought "People of Troy" on Monday, I haven't been able to stop listening to it, and, like Thile's music, there is something new I discover in each song every time I listen. If you were wise, you'd buy it on itunes NOW).