word up.

There are so many different ways to write. There are short stories, biographies, novels, poems, songs, diary’s, memoirs. The list goes on. Words, scribbled across page after page. Words ring throughout the world in hundreds of varieties. How does one begin to write a book when the worlds written or said everything that’s needed to be said? What can I say that will be unique? What do I have to offer? I’m a simple and complex human. I have thoughts that run with the sun and the moon. But how can my words even come close to interesting. Who am I? What is Interesting? All words seem to be tainted, tainted from past lips. Passed down and reformed to fit each individual. A thought is the closest thing I have to being simply me. Although it is influenced by its surroundings it is also unique in this. But a Thought is kept to one’s self. It can be shared, but in its most simplest from can only be in the mind of the thinker. So how do you portray yourself without the world tainting you, splashing you with its influence?

A list of extraordinary things to do when bored

• Do a repaint of the Mona Lisa
• Color yourself happy
• Create a new language
• Make a giant sized cookie
• Invent an awesome list of 20 Qs and ask them to everyone who calls
• Attempt to invent suction shoes to walk upside down
• Give yourself a new haircut
• Try to put on as many t-shirts as possible
• Attempt to find the phone number of someone famous
• Invent a miniature city out of multi-colored marshmallows
• Do a wicked air guitar solo to the next person you see
• Attempt to count backwards from a million
• Write a brilliant laugh-so hard you pee your pants knock-knock joke
• Defy gravity
• Stick a cookie on your forehead
• Build a rocket ship
• Have a water chugging contest
• Try to beat a Guinness World Record
• Attempt to do a back flip, then front flip
• Spin until your dizzy
• Learn to converse with your dog
• Clap your hands for the next person you see
• Dig a hole till you find treasure
• Build a boat out of paper count the seconds it lasts floating
• Play a prank
• Catch a scare on cam
• Count the stars
• Face paint…your entire visible body
• Learn an instrument
• Puddle jump
• Dance outrageously…in the middle of a store
• Build a robot
• Grow a mustache
• Smile till your face goes numb

words from a silent mouth

Satisfaction in our fiction minds.
Where is our release found?
In our chaotic, crazed world?
Crap TV
Dazed Minds
Static in the ears
bound to our delirous thoughts.

Happiness In A Cup.

Happiness. Happy, A feeling: simple and joyous. Easily obtained. Easily lost. Seconds to change.

Associated with good.

How are you? Good, And you? Good, thankyou.

Good: good, happy, fine.

Sweet little lies we tell you.
Good, really? In this chaos, where is good?

Good is the ocean, in its violence?
Good is the tree, which snaps in the winds might?
Good is the people, with sweet little lies?
No.

Good is the ocean, in its peace.
Good is the tree, which sits swaying its sweet leaves in its flames of color.
Good is the people, the honest ones, truthful in their love.

Happiness, a feeling.

No Name

It's been awhile...no reasons, just no inspiration lately.
Its difficult wanting, yearning to express the way I feel when I myself have no I idea how I feel. But yet there are these spurts of moments, thoughts, words jutting out as if to touch the sky and then reversing, evaporating all to quickly to even write down. So its difficult expressing me. Instead I hide, blend in with cream smudged walls in back row seats of classes. Fallen into pattern I am just a silent being with a lost mouth. And so I come here in hopes of expressing myself, my thoughts, & feelings.

Lurking.

My head it swarms with thoughts. And as I write it is my hope my head will empty. But filled it is with thoughts of you. No matter how many I spill, your still here.

Report Card.

Today I recieved my report card. An A, B, B, and C+. For grade 11 those are decent marks. In fact looking at my past grades those are my best grades to date. But I would say this report card bogged me down the most. I felt little satisfaction in them. For a short moment I was pleased but that was all, nothing more, nearly 3 months of effort and that is what I recieved, a single piece of paper with a few comments and letter grades. 3 months! 3 months! And that was it? a piece of paper. enraged, with an urge to crumple it in to a ball and throw it off the earth. I keep asking myself is it all worth it, and I guess/hope in the end it is, because in this moment I am filled with such discouragement. A longing to quit sits in me, but with one report card left, I need, must, have to continue...

Day Dream. Snap.

You dream of being an artist, a fancy photographer, a traveller. A creator of pockets of imaginations. To live on the beach, or a house in Paris. To drink expensive wines while eating foreing cuisine. To listen to the music, move your feet and sway to the beat. To be known, admired, loved. Maybe this is not your dream, maybe its just an image to be longed. Snap- reality just called me. Lets follow our own feet, maybe we will end up in a foreign country, taking photos, admiring their culture. But maybe not, so lets be content in the present.

The Mighty Stand

I have forgotten the beautiful landscape that I am surrounded with. Giants. Magestic mountains stand tall, meeting the lines of the sky. I find peace within these stilled giants. I'm sure you would as well...

Rythems of Life..

You hop in your car, take off in a turtle speed, accelerating to the maximum potential on the quiet neighborhood street. You follow the guidlines, the signs, warnings, and street lights. A curve here and there and an urched stop, and your ride is done. Your a tad over the line but none to worry about. And off to the everyday rythem. A beat familiar to all. A bell, a bustle, a lesson, an assignment. Again, again, lunch, again, again, end. The end a relief for seconds, until you feel the mound of homework weighing your bag. Finish, eat, relax, sleep. Again.

First Post

Dear Readers

This is officially my first post. I've never blogged befor. But a craving to empty my meaningless thoughts has been pinching at me for some time. And so I've turned to blogging. As you will notce I am not a good writer, but nontheless this is MY blog so bare with me.

Where to begin? I guess I shall start by introducing myself and giving you (whom ever you are) a bit of background information...

Well first off my name is Sophia, I'm seventeen, and live in a small town in BC, Canada. I've two older sisters, a foster brother, foster sister, two wonderful parents, a dog and of course a cat. Theres the general information for ya.

Break.