From the eyes of a swan where the wishing dust grew

Eyelashes. ive got a habit of pulling mine out. during passive activites like reading or movies or sitting in the car, some people pull out their own hair or eyelashes without even noticing. there's a fancy name for it, starts with a t, but im not doctor so let's not give it the pleasure. Eyeyye i just did it AGAIN, it makes me so angry with myself that everyday i lose three or five or seven eyelashes just because of this sickening habit, but i've no idea how to stop.

When I was five i was in a swimming lesson, rubbed my eyes, and a small curved eyelash rested on my thumb as I pulled my hand away. my swim teacher told me that because it was on my thumb, i could wish on it.
maybe Trichotillomania (oop, let it slide) is a subconsious desire for more chances to wish.
seems like people wish on everything these days, stars, dandelions, necklaces, eyelashes, pennies, fountains, statues, a certain time of day. Seems like msot of what I've ever wished for has come true. perhaps maybe once we wish something, that desire is brought forth from our secret heart, into our hestitant throats, and out of our alwase moving mouths. Once said, it is also heard. Being heard, we feel as though it must happen, to prove something almost. prove ourselves, the power of the object wished upon, or the fate on the side of the wish itself.
im beginning to think wishing is our human way or revealing to ourselves what we truly want to happen, the things we're hung up on, or crave, the people we wish to know, throw it up to the sky. Wish outloud, wait and see.
cause you wouldn't wish for something you knew was going to happen, right?

and the children sing.

Looking at a map of the world, the first thing I notice is the colors, almost every map of the world is some shade of blue and green. water and land, ya know, then I see the shapes of the green, how a couple of them are similar just with bulges or points in different places. And some take up like a whole side while others are so little your nose pretty much has to touch the wall just to notice it's there. then i notice the words, cities islans seas harbors countries towns mountains continents oceans pasages penninsulas channels deserts bays. and i realise how familiar I am with this map and i wonder about the people living in the dark, the people who have never ever seen a map, the ones who don't know what map means or what one looks like, the people that have no word for map in their language simply because maps are not much a part of their culture. maybe they don't even realise there is a whole world beyond their own city or village or family or bowl.
Earlier I was looking at this map in Room right, poking pins into the wall on the places ill go. After looking at the World for awhile, It starts seeming more and more as though it isn't so big after all. just, after all, us, we, you, i, are incomprehensibly..small.
We all know the places spain, italy, paris, china, US, pacific ocean, Mediterranean,brazil, pacific, we all know those. since the age of six we are reminded and schooled of those places at a rate nearly constant. you can see why so many of us say we want to travel the world, we spend our whole childhood hearing stories and seeing pictures. it's human nature to desire to see it for ourselves. how about the south sandwich islands in the scotia sea, just east of the coast of argentina. The great victoria desert in south australia. the white sea dividing russia from the Kola penninsula. Natal, campeche, somerset island, spitsbergen, Sredinnyy khrebet, balakovo, toulouse, glasgow, Corpus christi, la rioja.
overwhelming.
the world is much bigger than us, yes, and we are much bigger than ants.
if i could I would step foot, barefoot, on every inch of everywhere of World, The. beautiful, she is beautiful. and so much. How unbelievable that almost everything we each physically personally know is all on this one place. Every where we've ever heard of, everyone we've ever met, is all here.
i love it.
This place, how could anyone ever get tired of it, there is so much, I look at this map once more with one bare manifest admiration for being so much and so glorious, truly, what is all of this but Gods work and idea.
Our world is one of timeless wisdom, it was brought to life by a being much larger than itself, and from that day it has lived in out through while across under and between all that we know as history. all the animals, personalities, fruits, foods, oils, inventions, flowers, hair colors, bones, from always. it's all here and so are we.
wonderful, i'd say.

GREY or BLUE

she was a bright girl,
with new eyes of a curious color.
she sang when she knew the song
and when she didn't,
she listened until she did.
dreams came easily to her,
her days were spent chasing them
and waiting upon them.
she always hungered for love.
a heart full, and skin warm.
she was a brave girl.
and she would not be defeated.

Maestro

outside the festival gates, i laid and you sat. The stars hung above it all, silver suns on a string. the wind reached even them, leading them nearly to a slow dance in the sky. close eyes, lean back, look up, open eyes. open eyes. breathe. "Do you think other people exist somewhere way out there?" "maybe. but i don't think we're ever intended to know them." your words fed life into the night, they covered me from the cold thoughts of mind and body. how odd that all else seemed so small compared to us right there, the lights, people, cars, sounds, town, fried food, it was of an entirely seperate place. a place of of much significance to its inhabitants, but little to the thoughts that inhabited us.
perhaps the stars were listening, or maybe that grass had been up late waiting. but something about it seemed almost destined. an unscripted arrangement by God himself, him and her and there and then. or maybe we somehow overcame the passing minutes and lost keys and maybe we stumbled right into place, all unintentionally intended of course. transpersonally, instantaneously, gracefully, we stumbled to that ground and the words flowed from within us, we are fountains. we are sky. two heads and one planet, waiting to stay. and wondering vastly beyond the attainable and further reaching into that infintie abyss of the possible and the doubtful, and mastering the art of blending the two. fountains we are.

red light, green light

tonight, i was speaking with two adults. two adults that have generally supported me always, i told them about some things that i had recently discovered, things that have me biting at the bit to get in a car and flee to boston.
anyways, i told them these tidbits and they responded with a lovely story of someone they know going to boston, just like i want to, and being "outgoing" and "wanting to travel" and how he got there and by the second semester wanted to go back home.
for God's sake, if you're going to indirectly attempt to bring me down just grow a pair and do it bluntly. tell me. tell me i can't do this, i dare you.
funny how often, people that have allowed their dreams, desires, and plans, to fade and grow dusty in the back of their minds have a hard time handling it when they see others inches away from holding all they've set their hopes on.
kind of venting here,
it just really upset me, first i started to cry and then i realised all of their doubt is derived from all of their fear. that's where they're different from me, i don't have much fear to give me much doubt where they are stocked up with both. if there was a mirror nearby, i would've looked myself in the eye and said lex, you're going. you're going. alas, there was not so rather i repeated to myself most of the thoughts i've had in the last year or so.
God did not create the whole world so that we will stay in one place our whole lives.
boston will be good because it is where i belong.
God has placed this desire within me for a reason, he's led me to this hope.
don't. listen. to them.
maybe i'll want to go home, then i'll either go home or perhaps realise that boston is home.

this all may seem naive, biased, or piped,
or it may seem what it truly is,
driven.

holding up a boombox into the sky.

it's crazy how we all have birthdays. Every day of every year belongs to someone. they're really truly lovely, birthdays, and entire day for a one little person just to be able to celebrate their existence, I've been craving a birthday lately. sometimes when people hi about forty they start to deny their birthdays. They say that its no big thing, its just another day. No bad wrong. it is not just another day it is your birthday, the one day of all that marks when you breathed your first breathe and opened your eyes and began this life you've been given. it's a really special day to be taken so lightly. my teacher turned 36 yesterday and in class she was telling us all the good things about thirty six and how cool it is. thirty six, you are 18 times 2, you are 6 squared, you are 12 sets of 3, you are growing wise but not yet cold, you are dancing on age without losing your balance. there are good things about every age. Great things.
when someone turns a year, stories are told, a song is sung, cake is baked, gifts are given, but also it's kind of like taking a really big step. Or finally finishing a really long lap. going to sleep and knowing that when you wake up you'll be a whole new age is one of those feelings that deserve a whole big day. When I was little on my birthdays people would always ask me how it felt to be five or nine or thirteen. I always said the same, which is both melancholy and glorious. age isn't so powerful that it alters a whole person, it's a change without much of a ripple effect. You're the same you you have been just with a new number pinned to your being. perhaps that's why birthdays are often overlooked, people deem them as a simple number when really they are a beginning and an end. Like putting on new shoes then contiuing on the journey. Birthdays are really rather nice to have around.

of time, six weeks til the sun gets high.

when i was a little girl, my brother and i would spend hours outside trying to find this one berry bush. some times they were perfect. black and purple and lovely and thriving. ripe, ya know. they were ready and that's when they were best. but when they weren't ready, it was quite unpleasant. you never want to eat wild berries before they are ready. you might be ready, but they might not be. and ever though you are, if you just show them patience, in the end it will be better for the both of you. this applie to lots of things. peaches, for example. any fruit really, but peaches have my favor. the best peach is the one that is ripe and ready for you. they sit on the counter for days, taunting you with their color. their color leads you to believe that they are aboslutely ready, but biting into them you realise the opposite. think about love. chasing after love before it's ready to be found and enjoyed will only end with a tummy ache and a rotting love with a big bite taken out. or maybe thats peaches. close to the same. we are ready for so much, we are youth. we want everything in life to be right now. but lots of that everything is not ripe and ready to happen. wait. the word is agonizing, yes, but wait. loss only remains until love arrives. furthermore, peaches, like many things in life, grow to be ready in their own time. peaches are in control. they won't wait for you to eat them. when they are ripe, you take that peach and make the best of it. the same goes for love. when love is ready and around, you take that love. accept that it may not always be there, but love it deeply none the less. it's day will come, the peach the love eh ou whatayer you make of this. the day will come.