Broken Pattern

I met you in my dream, my girl,

There you did sit smiling.

When I approached you, oh so shy,

You rose and said hello to me.

There were no tricks, no play of mind,

You wanted me and I did you.

And so we sat upon the couch,

The lights were dim, just us two.

As I was slow you took the lead,

And lay upon my open lap.

Slowly I tried to caress you,

But got caught up within the act.

I tried too hard to please you right,

All I am was what you wanted.

When I tried to change for you,

Things only got complicated

Next we met, again you smiled,

Graced me with your presence anew.

Once again we stood together,

Just you and I, just me and you.

You kissed me softly on the lip,

And said that you still loved me true.

Then walked away into the light,

As I awoke, alone, no you.

Poem title: Dream Girl

At times like these

            How do we know

Who we can truly

            Call our own

Friends will come

And friends will go

As time does pass

Throu’our hourglass

But how do

Make sure to know

Who to keep

And who to let go?

Poem title: Friends Forever

 ———————————–

My body cries

            And blackens

                        And leaks

At my future

            Which appears

                        So bleak

Without a love

            To hang on

                        To

With all this spare time

            What shall

                        I do?

Poem title: I Sit Alone

Indian Summer

I arrive at my friend Turner’s house at eight since that’s the time he told me he’d be home. When I get there, his mother opens to door and is rather surprised to see me. Why? She had no idea I was coming over. I sat down to a ¾ finished dinner with Turner’s parents and their friends, and not surprisingly, I had an amazing time. The food was great and the discussions were even better. The whole night all five of us (me being the youngest by at least thirty years) shared stories, laughed hysterically and just had a generally amazing time. When Turner finally came home at ten, I didn’t want to leave the table.

Whenever you hang out with Turner in his neighborhood, you also hang out with his neighbor, Spencer. His nickname is Spenis so I call him Spagina. Turner and Spencer should get married for the sole reason of being a couple. They can have other families or girlfriends on the side but they work so well together that it’d be a shame for them not to be wed.

I love how when you’re fifteen or sixteen and couples around you have been going out for a year you immediately expect them to be having sex, though when two people form a relationship at that age the idea barely crosses your mind.

Last Sunday Broken Pattern got eighty visits. Now, I check a decent amount when I’m editing it just because I have no idea how the thing works, but I can’t account for all eighty visits, maybe six or so, but definitely not eighty. I figure it’s all those students procrastinating during a late Sunday afternoon so they think to themselves “Fuck it, I’ll check out the damn site” since I advertise it ever so minimally. And so they open up their internet, type in the site, look at it, say “fuck it” and close it. It’s not being read, there’s way too many words. That’s where I get my eighty visits.

Bowl O’ Beans

Tonight Turner and I rekindled our friendship once more by enacting what we did three years prior, evolved. Still, after all this time separated, Turner sat down and played counter strike, just as he did years ago, and I sat on my bed playing the bass, contrary to how I used to play playstation 2.

On top of that, Turner’s neighbors Spencer came. Everyone calls him Spenis so I call him Spagina. Tonight we realized that we were true friends. It’s rare that you create a sustainable relationship with a friend’s friend. Spencer and I just always got along, from me annoying his brother to us sneaking into Halloween a few weeks ago.

Spencer, new to my room, checked out my gimmicks and toys. He was taken by Gramps, and began to question me about it. I told him how fragile he had to be with it. I then went on to tell him the story of Gramps.

I went to Africa two years ago. When I was there, I constantly saved my money lest I see something that I want and I don’t have the money to get it. Throughout the whole trip, I scrapped and saved till finally, I met Gramps. He looked old, authentic, not a clearly recently made smooth textured giraffe made minutes prior. No, Gramps had an age to him. I was ready to pay all my saving for him. He ended up costing maybe $16, probably less. The only thing I bought in Africa, while everyone else was squabbling away their money, was this cheap little Gramps statue, and I couldn’t be happier.

To accent the old guy, I gave him a new dew upon my return home. I had found an orange spiked scrunchie at the end of session A and so I threw it in my medicine bag. For the rest of camp I always saw it but never really took any action towards it. We lived together, yet split apart, but come the end of camp, I couldn’t throw it away.

Spencer is definitely a friend. In fact, he helped open my eyes to why I love Gramps so much. If it weren’t for you questioning me about my wooden figurine I may never have known what that shared essence was between us.

be it a trickle
or a storm
it acts as the great equalizer

loud noises
obstructed by the raindrops pelting the ground
in a rhythmic beat
almost
hypnotic

i sit inside my room
looking out my window
watching the drops fall down

wettening everything in their path
as people flood to their homes
animals to their shelters

there’s a calming feeling
looking outside
seeing that all is wet
white i sit
idly at my desk
dry and warm
thinking away
thoughts
of rain

poem title: rain

It Sounded Better in My Head

Today I arrived at Media class about three minutes late, but it didn’t really make a difference. Six students were standing outside so I asked what was going on. They replied that there was nothing of importance and told me I could go right in. The class was half empty and nothing was going on. I’ll spare you the mystery. There was one group presenting their project, however, they were missing a student so that was hold. The kids outside were another group waiting to get a camera to work during class time.

Absolutely nothing was happening, and due to that the civilized manner of the class started to dissolve. One student claimed that if there were five absent students, anyone could leave class and that it would be illegal for the teacher to penalize them. Other groups started mass chit chatter, others just hung around to do their own thing, and the teacher was starting to get annoyed with the lack of member from the presenting group. With nothing to stimulate the class, it fell back into a primitive state of disorder.

By shear coincidence, the class ended with a lecture about the Television (subject of presentation). For thousands of years, all life on earth functioned perfectly without the addition of technology. In just 500 years the role that technology plays in our world has grown so exponentially, and the question arises: is this good or bad?

In truth, it’s messing up our society. Up until very recently, whenever one thing saw another, it meant that it was physically there. Though, with the invention of the photograph as well as motion capturing technology that entire concept has been reformatted as well as the method in which our brains process information.

Humans are naturally polite with a subject when immediately confronting it; when a friend asks you whether or not they look good you say yes, even though you’d answer no to someone else asking the question. Curiously, tests have proven that we apply this same emotion towards computers and technology. Put into the situation, we do show kindness and other emotions to machines.

Despite what we believe, our brains haven’t caught up to technology. We are technologically more advanced that we are as a civilization. The need for humans to have constant entertainment is a byproduct of our fast paces society, with flashy images and all. Boredom and inactivity have become elements in our lives that we cannot allow ourselves to deal with. If our planned routine, such as an educational presentation, is disrupted, leaving us with an excess of spare time and freedom, we develop the need for constant change and entertainment to pass the time, since that is what we’ve become used to in such a situation.

Insight to my Mind/It’s All a Bunch of Fact

There’s a whole bunch that’s happened to me recently that I haven’t had time to write, not to say that I have nothing to write about, so I’ll try to summarize it all briefly for your reading pleasure. This means I’ll recount my last few days to you with minor excerpts of observation. Hopefully this doesn’t suck.

So far it’s been a sweet week, which is nice because I haven’t had a long track record of good weeks for a while. On Monday we watched and discussed a movie called “Les 400 Coups”. It’s pretty good. French film from the first half of the 1900’s. But that’s not the focus of. You ever answer questions in class? If so, you know how hard it is to get an “Exactly!” from the teacher. “Goods” and “That’s right” are common, but “Exactly!’s “ take skill. Well guess what, I got three. You heard me, three. Best of all, the answers just came to my head. That’s the incredible thing. In Cegep, the 2 year program between high-school (ending in grade 11) and university (starting in grade 14) you get thrown into the cumulative scholastic body of students from all backgrounds. However, for some reason ninety percent of these students choose to never answer a single question in any class. I don’t try to answer to prove a sign on intelligence, or at least not regularly. No, I do it in an attempt to get the class moving. You can only listen to a teacher pathetically try to get students motivated for so long. After a while, “Anyone? Does anyone know the answer? French realism expressed…hello? Anyone? Please?” just gets to you.

Following that I went to a museum for an art field trip. I put the art part on hold and decided to check out the exhibits instead. We humans have done/discovered some cool shit. You ever look at sea shells? They’re rather remarkable. The mix of colours, shapes, along with the different uses for all that jazz is remarkable. Mummification is also a crazy topic. They had a special top 10 countdown recently on discovery channel. 5000 years ago this civilization mummified their dead by pealing of the skin, decomposing the body, then making make-shift replicas of them by tying bones to the skeleton, padding them with grass/hay-like stuff and then sewing the skin back over them. Weird eh? What was weirder was staring at coins from the Roman Empire Era that were used and handled by tens of hundreds of people. It’s just one of those things that are hard to grasp.

I bought a Zippo lighter that day too. With winter around the corner, cold winds only mean one thing: my fingers will freeze as my friends and I light up outside. I wanted a cool Zippo thought, not one of those “Weed is my religion” ones. This one was cool: man playing a saxophone with a city background. Silver contours and profile. I walked by it for a week so I would develop an obsession for it. It worked.

My French teacher also dropped out until December. That really sucks because I made a strong effort on making a good impression. She saw me as that “kid that doesn’t do well but tries hard nonetheless; a pitiful yet warm creature.” I suppose writing a short essay of her and her super hero ego helped too.

The last thing I did on Monday was leave a note in someone’s locker that read this, “Hey Alexia. My name is Trevor Burnett. I’m about 5’11, have very dark brown hair and brown eyes. I enjoy long walks on the beach during the evening, candle-lit dinners and petting dogs. I’m also friends with Emily Rubin. I’d like to know if you would mind sharing a locker with me. I wouldn’t need it for much, just to keep my jacket and dictionaries in. Let me know what you think. Love, Trevor.” I never got a locker this year and with winter coming along I feel like I’ll need one. Alexia managed to get a double locker for herself, and when my friend Emily opened her locker to put her nap-sack inside, the idea spawned in my head: why not see if I could get in on this. Since then I’ve been informed that Alexia is going to try to clean up her locker to make room for me. Score.

Tuesday I made a new friend. Making new friends is quite the event. You can learn so much about someone in such a short time. What’s also interesting is how as you grow up, the way in which you make friends changes dramatically. Anyways, we just started talking and we hit it off really well. She reminded me of someone I knew and it turns out they know each other. Don’t you love when that happens? What was especially good was that my regular friend for that class wasn’t there for that period so it was like one of those lose one get one deals. If such a deal has yet to exist, I copyright the term as of now: 10:02 pm. I also taught her how to draw eyes. She was rather grateful, but still totally cool about it. She’s a keeper.

Tuesday also means hanging out with new art class friends, Francois, Lauren and Emily, aka Bubbles. I hung out with Francois a lot yesterday and he’ll probably be “that guy” that you become good friends with in cegep. Or at least I hope so, he’s a cool guy. I also got my midterm back for my art portfolio. I’m in two art classes this semester and I’m pumping out drawings better than anything I’ve ever done before. I was upset when I got my 78%. But what ever, that’s the beauty of art. The teachers a dumbass, and a narrow-minded one too. And instead of ranting about him, I can think this, “Art is what I create. I love what I make. If anyone else likes it too, of which there are many, that’s surplus.” The moron also forgot to mark one of my assignments and lost my sketchbook. When I had him remark one the one he messed up on he talked about how it was a passing grade so there wasn’t much to worry about anyways. I think he’s missing the big picture on life.

FYI, Francois bought his girlfriend a rose for their one month anniversary. I suggested white over red. He should save red for later. Good call?

If you’re still reading I am super impressed. You are rewarded with Kudos. I’ll try to wrap up the rest in the following two paragraphs.

Today I realized what my thesis will be if I ever have to write a long ass paper for university: The Science of Social Activity on Buses. There is so much to work with. For instance: Etiquette of letting old/injured/pregnant people sit down vs how long you’ve been waiting for the seat when they enter the bus, who gets the seat when two people are standing over one, when you sit in between two people, one who has a spare seat to their side, and when they leave if you should move to their spot to provide maximum comfort to all or if you stay still as to not create any self destructive assumptions in your neighbors mind. That, and more. Today I also finally received my Macbook after two months of hassle, tech support, getting stamps, mailing back a defective one and trying to get a new one sent. Yes, thank you. Huzzah huzzah!

>added this I’m sorry. Today I hung out and caught up with my friend Gabby (f.,s.) at lunch (for me 2:00 pm). It was really cool, fun, and nice<

Lastly, I kicked ass in English class. My teacher is legit crazy. She also can’t read poems to save her life. For someone as interested in the English language and literature as me, to hear some moron babble on messing up all the inflections and fluidity of a poetic worse is comparable to getting repeatedly stabbed in the eye with a pin. I just realized now that I could add more information in previous paragraphs without anyone noticing. The part where I teach my new friend to draw eyes was added after this sentence. I’m back. But what it all came down to was when we had to analyze the poem “The Last Duchess.” I had done the work so I knew what it was about, unlike everyone else in the class. We got back to one of those teacher vs student standoffs where no one says anything and yours truly is getting hungry and antsy. I raised my hand, heard my name called, and continued to spew out three and a half minutes of words. When I finished, her jaw had dropped and the class began to applaud.

Those We Worship

Armies cried while legions of followers flocked to the stadiums to support their gods. Clad with costumes and face paint to resemble those whom they worshipped, they filled up the arena, all the while chanting for their heroes. Those who could not enter waited outside as sacrifices were made. Whole families waited for their champions’ entrance. Smoke and light billowed from the ground as the god warriors emerged from the ground. A cheer was had by all, followed by yells and screams of violence.

Tonight a victor would be had. Half the Gods would be defeated, as the others would reign supreme. There would be no mercy for the losers, no forgiveness. Another year they would have to wait before they could try again. The Earth and its beings lay motionless, unconscious to all but what was in front of them: the game of champion, the game of the gods: football.

Beatle’s Love Nevada

I awoke from my Zen with Modest Mouse’s “The Good Times are Killing Me” playing into my ears. Confused, my dad told my brother and me to lock up the car after we got our shoes on. We had arrived at an American diner in Needles, Arizona, home of Snoopy’s cousin Spike.

Full from the muffin I had eaten earlier, I was not too thrilled with the idea of gorging myself, but alas, American diners are always fun. Entering, my mom told me it was a sight; An old fashioned family diner with gimmicky stuff everywhere, Metal lithographs, wood benches and a cheery service. Opening the menu, my eyes soon took sight of “Breakfast Burrito”. Remembering my camp experience, I was set. I got up to check out the lithographs for my brother ($ wise) and to head to the washroom.

Upon my return, I saw our cheery waitress taking the orders. When it came to my turn I was pleasantly surprised to find out my family had successfully ordered my meal already. On top of that, however, I placed my order for my new favourite drink: Raspberry Iced Tea – no ice. When I got it, there was ice, but I was in a good mood so it was ok.

The real thrill came towards the end of the meal. Full from the start, I was slowly eating my hash browns with my breakfast burrito staring me in the face. My attention was relocated to a deep, booming voice a few tables over saying how he was going to leave and bother some customers. He walked up to our table and I knew that we were in for a treat. He took off his necklace which held a metal ring and proceeded to show us a trick.

Having always been a fan of magic, I was trying to figure out the trick while he did it. He simply held the ring around the necklace and dropped it, at which point it would get locked in the necklace. Possible noticing my interest, he asked me if I thought I could do it. Seeing it as a challenge, I said that I probably couldn’t do it right now but that I could most likely learn how. He shut me down and said that I could do it right now.

He handed me the necklace and ring and walked me through the steps, wording to me exactly how to do the trick without me noticing. Expecting failure, you can imagine how surprised I was when I unconsciously pulled off the trick on my first go. He pointed out the fact that I had done it, and making my wish come true, he said I could have it. As he walked out, I thanked him gratuitously as the waitress said “later Bruce.” I asked the waitress about him. He was a local: the retired chief of police.

I came out of the diner with a full stomach, a half eaten breakfast burrito, a postcard about western jackalopes, a memorable experience and a conversation piece I had been unwittingly searching for; a magic trick that requires little to no skill but is nearly impossible to replicate, thanks to the knowledge that Sheriff Bruce and I share.

Tin Lunchboxes

Two nights ago I came across a profound realization: Lunchboxes are amongst the few things which, over time, have gotten effectively better while aesthetically worse.

I would’ve loved to go to school carrying a tin lunchbox with my favourite superhero embossed on top. Not only that, it’d have two cool latches on it to keep my teddy grams locked away from my conniving friends. But no, instead I had to bring this stupid-looking, plastic coated and interiorly insulated bag to school for seven years. As if that’s not bad enough, the lame thing had zippers. Zzip that.

So what if metal conducts heat, the damn thing looked cool.