a place where only dreams go.

I think every child wishes to be in a movie, a television show, a music video. When I was younger I would pretend I was in a movie - pretend that a camera was watching my every move and would try to look wonderful at all times. As I grew older, obviously I stopped pretending a camera was always on my heals and began to realize that fame isn't something that everyone gets to live. Still, I sometimes wish that I could just stumble into the mall and accidently run into a producer or director and for them to look at me and say, 'You're it!'

Yeah, right.

Today I spent the day sleeping and watching Across the Universe extra features with my cat. Yes, life is quite exciting. However, as I watched the behind the scenes, that childhood wish came back to me - the idea of being noticed. I watched the actors practice their vocals and act like normal, everyday humans. That whole idea of realism in someone so noticed made me wish that someday I will be able to get on stage and sing or that someday I will get my chance to shine. Whether it is from creating a novel or a screen play or actually going in front of a camera - I just want to be noticed. I'm not looking for fame, I'm looking for respect and recognition. Who doesn't wish for that?

A raison in the sun
is just a grape with a tan.
Something that wishes
to be better than something else.
The taste may be sweeter
but the life is oh so ill
Why try walking in shoes
you know no one can fill?

this will be the summer.

If I want to be a writer - I will do it.
If I want to be healthier - I will do it.
If I want to pay the rent - I will do it.
This will be the summer I do what I must.

So, I have decided that I need to go back to being myself. I will begin reading over my novel and editing it as well as adding to its pages. I will go to Bally's five out of the seven days of the week before work to become healthier. I will work everyday and not miss any so I have the money to comfortably survive on my own. It's strange how quickly a child has to become an adult - no matter what. It's frightening - my first summer away from home and in my own apartment. Yet, I will do it. I will write; I will work out; I will work. I will survive like I have before.


She climbed out of the ditch, her car spread across the tar in bits of broken glass. The color seemed to had faded from a maroon to crystal and she dared move an inch. She was stranded in the middle of the summer, in the middle of a bed of fire that surrounded a body so fragile and tired.

She knew she could do better. She knew she had faced death more than once and could survive past this trial. She got to her feet, brushing the gravel from her stone-gray jeans. She began to walk, pressing the number 911 into her phone. She knew she could get help and she knew she had to keep her head looking up towards the clouds that washed past her eyes with the brightest of whites.

The angels has carried her once again and would continue to be her shadow.

the birds wont sing if we don't listen.

paper cup flowers drown out my eyes
like neon lights streaming over the dullest streets
small and delicate, hiding a secret fear
will the wind blow them over?
will the rain drown their light?

there are tin foil trees falling down with the petals
their colors are of the brightest golds and greens
strong and reckless, but hiding a fault
why fear such beauty
when it has never been seen?

floating like mist we all tumble down
through highways of soot and pebbles and sand
they walk into our paths as we crawl through their own
but the end is rewarding
the end tastes so sweet
when a silver seedling
is what you meet

"i'm a rover."

'My eyes are as bright as stone
yours are as bright as the sea
come to me, fall into my arms
let's be all that we can be.'


Time has always been an important aspect of my life. Whether it is time for me to be alive during the days of chemotherapy or time for me to take a step forward or back just to see what lays ahead. Right now, time is a strangely difficult factor. I want time to move quickly because I want to move into my apartment. Yet, I want time to move by slowly so certain feelings or specific memories can last a little bit longer. I wish time could fast forward, stop and rewind. However, life isn't that wondrous.

I don't know what it is, but I remain in a rut. This 'writing rut,' you could call it. I feel stranded and unable to even get further into my novel. Does this mean this novel will not succeed? Does this mean I will never become accomplished? I believe not. I finally got the MCC magazine I had submitted a story to and read my short story. I was utterly impressed and proud. Still, I need something more. Maybe it all revolves around time. I need more time. But all we will ever recieve is less.


there is a boy.
my heart beats twice as fast when our fingers touch.
i worry, however.
i worry he will dissapear.
i worry i will fail myself again.
i worry that i will never be enough.
there is a boy.
i'm falling for.