Monday, 21 February 2011

You don't understand

You don't understand
That every word you say hurts.

Every sentence you utter
Cuts me and scars.

Then you wait, and say it again.
Like pouring bleach on a wound.

Don't you understand
How talking to you makes me want to cry?

Saturday, 19 February 2011


I went to a fashion show today, and I was struck by the intensity that all the designers must have felt. They took everything that they could and put it into their 5 garments.

I want something like that.

I think that's why I started my blog. I needed a way to tell people things about me, without actually having to tell them. I wanted to showcase my writing and my photography.

But I don't get nervous. Well, not nervous about anything that I'm passionate about. I want to feel that excitement. That terror. That feeling that all the time you put into this project is finally coming together.

I need to find something that I can be horribly nervous about. Any ideas??

<3 e

Tuesday, 15 February 2011

Do You Remember?

Do you remember when the sun shone?
When the flowers bloomed?
And you smiled?

Do you remember what it feels like?
The warm caress of light?
And the lazy wind?

Do you remember the laughter?
The feeling of freedom?
And the lack of stress?

But do you hear it?
The sound of water running?
Of birds starting to sing?

But can you see it?
Puddles forming on the ground?
And ice deteriorating?

I miss it.
So much it hurts.
So much I want to cry.

<3 e

Monday, 14 February 2011

Happy Valentines Day

After a really bad day, thank you for making today so nice.

From sitting outside Dunn Bros drinking coffee and hot chocolate, to walking down wet, slushy alleys letting me take as long as I wanted to take my pictures, you made today one of the best.

Happy Valentines Day!
<3 e

Sunday, 13 February 2011

Melting Candles

This is a project that I had to do for my English class. We were supposed to think of a memory and then write a scene about it. Enjoy! (WARNING, it's kind of sad, sorry!)

[The stage is filled with chairs lined up facing the audience with an isle down the middle. At the end of the isle is a podium that faces upstage. A door on stage right leads off to the entrance of the room. On stage right, downstage, there are wooden boxes stacked on top of each other with worn teddy bears sitting on top of them. White Christmas lights weave through the bears. On stage left, downstage, more wooden boxes are sitting on the floor with stacks of old, used books on top of them. Candles are on the stacks of book with wax dripping off of the candles and onto the books. On stage left another table is lined up with more books and photo albums, and stray photos. The walls are painted a happy yellow, which contrasts the mood of the room. In the far right side of the stage, downstage, there is an old couch separated by a screen representing another room. Next to the couch is a table with a box of tissues. The lighting is seemingly bright, but a sterile bright. The light is focused on the stacks of books and bears. As the curtain raises people begin to slowly fill the room, all are quietly talking, some are crying. Some people sit down right away, but others walk over to the table and flip through books or photo albums, but they seem distant and unengaged. A couple enters the room, and the light focuses on them. The wife, mid-50s, looks tired, with no makeup, puffy eyes and a shawl that wraps around her. The husband has white hair and is balding; he keeps his arm around his wife as they walk in. People are drawn to them to apologize for their loss, but they walk away once this is said. A family enters. A father, teary, but not crying wears a classic dark suit. His wife, who is in a black dress that seemingly fit her very well a long time ago, but has lost its beauty over the years, follows him. Behind them is a girl, mid-teens, who is quiet but not crying, unlike the others in the room. Another woman walks in, louder and with a forced happiness. She walks up to the podium and the light shifts to her.]
Woman: [Clearing her throat] Hello, everyone. Please have a seat. [People leave the books and photos to sit down. She waits until there is silence.] Thank you. [Pauses] We are here today to remember Lorin. A young man who left us too soon. But he is in a better place now. Now, he is with God.
[Her voice drifts off as the light switches from the woman to the young girl. She seems distracted and slightly bored. Every time the woman at the podium mentions God, her face changes as though the word doesn’t belong. The woman begins to sing a religious song. The rest of the room joins her except for the young girl. The song ends.]
Woman: [Her voice growing louder, until it finally reaches it’s original volume] Thank you. He will be sorely missed. [She turns to the wife.] Karen? [Motioning for the woman to come forward].
Karen: [Walked toward the podium, slowly. The lighting shifting from the young girl to the woman] Thank you all for coming today. It means so much to Dan and I [Motioning to her husband, who nods in agreement. She starts to say something else but her voice catches and she is forced to sit down again.]
Woman: [Standing from where she sat down, but not returning to the podium] If anyone would like to share a story about Lorin, now is the time.
[The room is silent. Finally a man near the back of the room stands up.]
Man: Hello, I’m Frank. I worked with [Pausing] Lorin at Northern Brewery. I knew him for years. I never knew that [Pausing. He decides not to say anymore about Lorin’s death]. Well, anyways. I remember one day when all the guys in the warehouse were having a debate on Aristotle’s philosophy. Then then next day, Lorin walked into walked into work with a sweatshirt that had a pizza stain on the back. When I pointed this out to him he looked at it and said “So there is…” but didn’t do anything about it. Lorin was a wonderful friend and we are sorry to loose him. [His voice fades away and he sits down]
[Another silence fills the room and everyone looks around to see who will share next. The father slowly rises from his seat. As he does this, the light switches to the father and his daughter who seems surprised at the fact that he has gotten up.]
Father: [Clearing his throat] Lorin was a wonderful boy. I knew him for almost his entire life. And he knew my daughter [Motioning to the girl] since she was born. I don’t have many anecdotes about Lorin. But I remember how he would show her [His daughter looks down to her lap, trying to disguise the fact that she feels like crying] video games that she probably shouldn’t have seen [The entire room chuckles quietly, all thinking about Lorin]. He showed her Grand Theft Auto when she was probably seven. I’m not sure if I agreed with his choice of showing her how to steal cars and beat up prostitutes but it was his way of connecting with her. That has always meant a lot to me [The young girl seems as though she is going to begin crying but she regains herself quickly. Her father sits down and the room remains silent until the woman stands up again.]
Woman: Thank you all for coming. There will be a reception at my house, I can give directions to anyone who needs them.
[Everyone rises from their seats and walk over to the tables or the couple who remain seated. The young girl walks over to the stack of books. The candles have dripped onto the books. This seems to bother the girl and she begins to pick at the wax. Her mother walks over to her and tries to talk to her, but the girl dismisses her and walks away. She slowly walks across the stage to the couch. As she does this the lighting on he rest of the room drops down to almost complete darkness. The lighting in the room with the couch remains dim. The girl sits down in the couch and reaches over to the table next to it and takes a tissue from the box. She remains silent as she plays with the tissue in her hands. All of a sudden she begins weeping. She continues weeping for a few seconds until the lights dim and the scene ends.]

It's Been A Long Time

Hey there Blogger!! It's been a long time since I've posted anything. I have been writing blog posts, I just haven't gotten around to taking the pictures for it, I'm just too lazy.

I don't really have anything to write about. Most of what I've been writing about lately is stuff that is personal and that I don't want to post on my blog, sorry!

I just wanted to post to let you know that I'm still alive and writing and taking pictures.
<3 e

Sunday, 6 February 2011

I Miss You

I feel like you're not here. And I keep trying to pull you back towards me, but whatever I do you seem more distant. Maybe it's just my skewed view of the world but it seems like you don't want to be here.

I miss you.
<3 e