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jompyshy posted this and I thought it was neatDiamond needs to figure out if she wants to move forward, maintain old friends, or what kind of friends she has eh? maybe?
Diamond needs to realize what she has gotten herself into okay this is very true
Diamond needs a girl or to find a girl first who is both in the same state/interesting
Diamond needs your help! No, i'm okay, thanks
Diamond needs color in her world? No, she has a girl who does that ;)
Diamonds needs to hear from you that would be you, Milan
This is fun!
- O sweet spontaneous
- earth how often have
- the
- doting
- fingers of
- purient philosophers pinched
- and
- poked
- thee
- ,has the naughty thumb
- of science prodded
- thy
- beauty .how
- oftn have religions taken
- thee upon their scraggy knees
- squeezing and
- buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
- gods
- (but
- true
- to the incomparable
- couch of death thy
- rhythmic
- lover
- thou answerest
-
- them only with
-
- spring)
- e.e. cummings
all ignorance toboggans into know
e.e. cummings
all ignorance toboggans into know
and trudges up to ignorance again:
but winter's not forever,even snow
melts;and if spring should spoil the game,what then?
all history's a winter sport or three:
but were it five,i'd still insist that all
history is too small for even me;
for me and you,exceedingly too small.
Swoop(shrill collective myth)into thy grave
merely to toil the scale to shrillerness
per every madge and mabel dick and dave
--tomorrow is our permanent address
and there they'll scarcely find us(if they do,
we'll move away still further:into now
"Swoop(shrill collective myth) into thy grave" may be the line I needed to write the folklore story I've been wanting to write.
I Name you Calvin.
I Name you Mr. Jenkins.
I Name you Proginoskes.
I fill you with Naming.
Be!
Be, butterfly and behemoth,
be galaxy and grasshopper,
star and sparrow,
you matter,
you are,
be!
Be caterpillar and comet,
Be porcupine and planet,
sea sand and solar system,
sing with us,
dance with us,
rejoice with us,
for the glory of creation,
seagulls and seraphim
angle worms and angel host,
chrysanthemum and cherubim.
(O cherubim.)
Be!
Sing for the glory
of the living and the loving
the flaming of creation
sing with us
dance with us
be with us.
Be!”
– Madeleine L’Engle, A Wind in the Door
which, I suppose, puts something else out there. On here, I thought it'd be easier to go by Diamond and I still think that's true. But Ayli or Diamond are fine. I use both of those as alias online and I respond to both (actually, if you ever spoke to me on the phone or in person, I'd respond to Ayli and probably Diamond too).
My horse was very good today, albeit angry at me for working him so hard for so long. He was decent enough. Better than I could have asked, considering the crowded ring, the miserable weather, and his lack of outdoor time lately. I really wish there was a more ideal situation for him...but there isn't.
And I have to take out a loan from my parents, and it's going to be both embarrassing and terrible. What if they say no?
Of course, I haven't tried to publish it. But that is a side point. I do love this chapter.
Reactions?
Let me know what you think, particularly if you have a forum rp background. I'm off for lunch with Rutgers (which I just realized I nicknamed her but I don't think it's a city. I think it's just a college but whatever) and then the barn.
At your best, you are: straight shooting, ambitious, and energetic
At your worst, you are: anxious and high strung
You drink coffee when: anytime you're not sleeping
Your caffeine addiction level: high</font></td></tr></table><div align="center"><a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkind
I definitely thought of this quote, "it’s practically impossible to kill yourself with caffeine. Practically. Don’t actually try it! After 1 gram, you’ll be a sad panda. If you manage to even challenge the number, you’ll be a schizophrenic, crazed panda, or a passed out panda." I can't remember where it comes from (it comes up on a thousand or so pages if you google it) but here's another caffeine related thing: http://www.energyfiend.com/death-by-caff
Apparently I'd have to drink 73 cups of coffee to be down on the floor.
C'mon, we're all writers here---do they really think it'd take 73? </html>
Edited: Does anyone know why I can't get this meme thing to show up properly?
I have some of the most amazing friends in the world, and for that I am eternally and forever grateful. With whom else do you go sledding at midnight, in chains, making highly sexual jokes and end up walking back, laughing and smiling though your fingers are frozen and you cannot feel your rear-end?
Today was a good day. It was frustrating, talking to Milan for awhile, about two things that she had said/done that irked me that she knew and finally called me out on, but overall, I feel like it was a productive day. I feel happy. No, perhaps, not happy. I do not feel happy yet. I feel satisfied. Immensely satisfied. Tonight I will go to sleep without taking medication to help me. Tonight, I will go to sleep and not cry in my dreams. Tonight, I will not dream of people dying.
Perhaps. My dreams often consist of situations that I cannot control. I always feel a persistent desire to put myself into uncontrollable situations. I don't know if I want to know how I'd react, or what I'd do, or how selfish I really am. Because, no matter what I say, I know, deep down, that I am very selfish.
I have some ptsd from september eleventh, as I suspect a number of people in this country do (i lower-cased september eleventh on purpose--I am afraid to make it uppercase. it makes it seem more real and like the letters will fall farther) and when I fly, which is frequently, I sit on the airplane and think of all the things that could go wrong. I wonder if I would be amongst the passengers who did not move, or the passengers who charged the hijackers. I decide whom of my neighbors would cry, and who would not. I decide who should be the leader. I sit in the emergency exit rows, not for the legroom--I don't need it--but because I love when the stewardess asks me if I could assist in an emergency. Because somewhere deep inside of me, I want there to be an emergency. When I walk into buildings, I wonder what a fire in the building would be like. When I am around strange men, the fear/wonder/systematic calculations of reaction are based around my fear of rape. I am a crazy person, you may say, but I think more people do this than are willing to admit it.
But I do not think I will have dreams of collapsing buildings tonight. Tonight, I will smile and simply sleep. And for once, that will be okay.
I am hosting prospective students for my college on Friday night. I have two of them. We are taking them iceskating. I hope they brought money with them. If they didn't, I'm leaving them at home and going iceskating anyways. Because I haven't hurt myself enough this weekend. Sledding is rough on my back and well, everything, and tomorrow I am riding my horse and sledding again. And then Friday I will be iceskating and Saturday I will be giving tours.
My friends are wonderful. My Kansas City, Rutgers and St. Louis (to my new readers: I codename my friends after cities that remind me of them--either where they are from, or in character).
Good night, all. Sleep well. And tomorrow, I will have a poem, some talk about my pony, and perhaps a piece of art to share.
-Diamond <>
Apple juice is the way to go.
I admire coffee shops.
I am enjoying this private journal. I feel bravest, I feel most free, and most liberated writing here. I could write whatever I want. I can appear pompous and philosophical--and no one I know in real life will ever judge me on it. Reverse my earth, I say softly (as I listen to I Dreamed A Dream from Les Mis) and it happens when I open up Diamondfeet. I do not know if I have readers yet, but I am joining communities I would not normally join in search of people. Confidants. Trustworthy folk who can read my purest thoughts. Every thought wants to break free, but freedom's nothing more than nothing left to lose. <i>I have nothing left to lose!</i>
I love to read poetry. I consume it by the gallons. I will simply sit on poetry sites and read it everything I can. e.e.cummings is a personal favorite, as is WB Yeats. Shakespeare but I prefer his plays to his sonnets. Wordsworth and Coleridge are just splendid. I want to read Spenser's Faerie Queen this summer. But anyways, I get a poem a day in my email. Today's poem was Rain by Edward Thomas. This poem is excellent, however, I just didn't feel the poem today. Where I am, it was sunny today for the first time in awhile. The sun doesn't shine too often here, and when it does, I rejoice. There's nothing more brilliant feeling brightness on your skin. So, to post, I searched for a poem that matched my mood:
I do but ask that you always be fair
Edna St Vincent Millay
I do but ask that you be always fair
That I forever may continue kind;
Knowing me what I am, you should not dare
To lapse from beauty ever, nor seek to bind
My alterable mood with lesser cords;
Weeping and such soft matters must invite
To further vagrancy; and bitter words
Chafe soon to irremediable flight,
Wherefore I pray you if you love me dearly,
Less dear to hold me than your own bright charms,
Whence it may fall that until death, or nearly,
I shall not move to struggle from your arms:
Fade if you must,--I would but bid you be
Like the sweet year, doing all things graciously.
Additionally, I peeked around the Internet for awhile while relaxing for the first time all day. I have a meeting with my advisor later, and I wanted to sit, listen to music, and read good blogs, see good art, and read excellent poetry. And perhaps think a bit. Milan just signed online, which means that she is back at the residence where she should be, which irritates me because I'd much rather speak to her on the phone than on a screen. Thus, I will be ignoring her. I am childish, my friends, when it comes down to it. Though her lack of speech to me tells me that perhaps someone is on her screenname. Occasionally her mother has a nasty habit of doing that.
I love the LJ spotlight of the week, because it helps me find other people who may read this journal, and with whom I may converse. Exchange of ideas, that's all I ask. So I did the add_a_writer this week. We shall see what comes of that. I am afraid to join photography because I posted my photography under a different journal that is less secret. Will someone recognize it? Why am I so scared?
*sigh* I am such a pushover. Talking to Milan.
I feel so drained. I feel like I'm on the edge of tears. I can't write. I can't think. I can't sleep anymore. For once, all I want to do is homework.
If she calls me this week, which she won't, I will not answer. I am going to try and have some will power. And I will not answer. And I am not going to answer for awhile.
I think, at the end of the week, if she has called, I will return her call. I will be cheerful (like she does) and tell her I'll call her back later that night (like she does). And then I won't (like she does). Because I can. And I want to. I want her to feel what this feels like.
I am so bitter.
I spoke with Milan on the phone, and I don't know if there's one other person in the world that can make me feel so loved and so truly wanted. There are times, of course, when she does not and I admit that I resent her for those times. Occasionally, the friendship--or whatever it is--is one-sided. Other times, it is less one-sided and truly something that transcends all my other friendships. A fulfilling night, indeed.
I also found the most lovely e.e. cummings poem, one I hadn't read before:
Additionally, I went Googling for a piece of artwork. After all, this is a blog where I want to feel freest with my ideas and others' creative expressions can help free one's own ideas. Instead, I found Art-a-DAY or Art against Depression and Anxiety. This is an organization out of Belgrade that wants to challenge depression and anxiety with creative outlets. I highly recommend checking it out. Some of the art was beautiful, as was the prose. It is in English, so you don't have to struggle with the Cyrllic alphabet if you don't understand it. Please check it out!this(let's remember) day died again and
this(let's remember) day died again and
again; whose golden, crimson dooms conceive
an oceaning abyss of orange dream
larger than sky times earth:a flame beyond
soul immemorially forevering am-
and as collapsing that grey mind by wave
doom disappeared,out of perhaps(who knows?)
eternity floated a blossoming
(while anyone might slowly count to soon)
rose-did you see her?darling,did you(kiss
me)quickly count to never?you were wrong
-then all the way from perfect nowhere came
(as easily as we forget something)
livingest the imaginable moon
I worked with my horse today, doing some ground work. He was full of spirit, very loving and very spooky today. Snow was sliding off the roof of the indoor arena, and that's a frightening sound for humans much less an animal that cannot rationalize that noise. So we only did a little work before calling it quits. I have a friend coming this weekend who wants to ride him, hopefully the snow melt won't be too bad.
I feel a little bit of guilty. I ran out of tampons exactly when I didn't really need to run out of tampons, and yes this information is necessary. My roommate and I aren't friends though we are hardly enemies, but I figured she wouldn't kill me for taking a tampon. When I opened her drawer, next to the box, there was a sheet of paper labeled "Reasons to Transfer". I read it. She wrote it. There were fifteen reasons to transfer, and three reasons to stay. The reasons to stay were rather weak reasons, and I'm afraid that she's going to leave. She won't leave before the end of the year, but I feel guilty. I haven't gone out of my way to be her friend--we merely coexist. She wrote that she has no friends here, and no one that she even remotely likes to hang out with. It is true. I never see her with other people, or even trying to. I feel like asking her to come to dinner would be nothing short of attempting to justify my behavior towards her before she leaves. And that's not right.
But worst? I couldn't believe I wasn't on her list for reasons to leave. And somehow, I wanted to be on that list.
There's a zoo in San Diego--I used to have a computer game that told me so. I could navigate around the park, learn about different animals, and learn about the panda cubs. Do you remember the panda cubs at the San Diego zoo? Perhaps you don't. They were adorable, soft, fuzzy, black and white, tumbling and bumbling around as they were raised by humans, adored by humans, endeared to humans. They are so human-like, desiring of affection and giving affection. Somewhere between last night and about twenty minutes ago, I realized that I love you. This isn't some girlhood crush, or understanding of the omnipotence of sexual desires, because I lack any libido. This is not about sex. It's about you being the only person I want next to me on a cold winter night, it's about you being the one that makes me laugh, and cry, and smile and smirk. It's about our inside jokes, and our calmness with each other. It's the fact that we can say I love you, without either of us with our past experiences shying away from those words. I've never been so comfortable with anyone before, I've never wanted to stay in one place forever.
So come back home, Milan. Come back home.
There is a girl across the coffee shop, who is crying as she reads a letter. I wonder what the letter says. Does it tell her of a death? Did someone break up with her? Or are those tears of joy? Did someone tell her that they love her, that they cannot imagine living without her, that she's their best friend and that, that above all other relationships, is the most important? Do you ever look at other people and wonder? She's swiping the tears from her cheeks, and I imagine that she is you for a moment. I imagine that I am leaning against you, pressing my confidence in your ability to heal into your own body. I press my forehead against your own, wipe the tears from your cheeks, and I whisper to you. I whisper words that only you will recognize. I whisper words to make you smile, to remind you that I love you. Because I do. More than I've ever felt before, I love you and for the first time, I want to share that love. I used to be jealous of those who sit beside their lovers, not needing to flirt, or make out, or go too far. That part of the relationship is not nearly as important as being. I want others to have that, though I don't truly have that yet. I look at this girl, sitting on the other side of the room, and watch her wrap two hands around her teacup. I wish she had someone sitting next to her, pressing into her, touching her hair and whispering words of comfort that only she could know. Everyone deserves one person that loves them unconditionally.
The weather here is just disgusting, and I am sure you will laugh at me later when we talk on the phone. You will tell me that I chose a terrible place to live for university time. I will laugh and agree, and we will both fall silent. Hanging between us will be the conscious and recognized knowledge that both of us would rather be living together. I want to tell you that I don't have much time left in university, that the distance between us will close soon enough, but that would be voicing for the first time our desires versus our needs. Perhaps, when one is in love, desires and needs are exactly the same thing.
You sent me a photo, of you in the hospital, and I wish you didn't look so young, so sickly, so tired, so scared. I want to hold you, and kiss you, and tell you it will be alright, that you will be better soon, and you'll get through this. But I am afraid to promise you something that may not be true. I don't know how much time we have left, my love, but I am afraid that it isn't enough.
So let me tell you that I love you, that I think about you all the time. So let me tell you that you are the ice on the sidewalk (I've fallen into love), and the sun behind the gray clouds (that gives me hope for a beautiful day tomorrow). You're the wind caressing my cheek, the bounce in my step, the brightness in my smile. You're all I ever dreamt of finding in my life, and no matter what happens, I meant it when I whispered, "Always".
I love you, Milan. And I hope that you get better and come home.
All hope, love, and friendship,
Diamond <>
People who are born writers, or consider their lives nothing but prose on paper cannot be themselves if they are constantly afraid of being judged. It does not matter, in the end, if we appeared melodramatic, or emotional 'emo', or depressed, or giddy, or girlish, or gender-defying, or repressed, or confused, or arrogant, or pompous, or wise, or cynical. I do not want those labels attached to another livejournal entry of mine, which is why I created this journal. Regardless of whether I am happy or sad, I will try and post something from the day here. This is not a daily diary. This is a journal, a reflection of life in all its wonders. Someone wise once told me that life is only a prism. On different days, we're looking in a different side and we see a different spectrum of light.
My username is diamondfeet, and I'd like to go by Diamond, or nicknames derived therefrom, to all of the readers I may attract here. To preserve my identity, but also to revel in what a diamond is: one of the hardest substances on earth, made out of a dirty substance and compressed by pressure into something just beautiful. As a social angle plug, I'd like to remind people to make sure you know where you get your diamonds when you buy them for yourself or a sweetheart or a family member. Many diamonds are known as conflict diamonds, or blood diamonds, and fuel terrible civil wars in Africa.
Additionally, Paul Simon's version of "Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes" was an inspiration for my name.
To preserve identities of people, if I even mention people in my real life, I will be calling them by the name of a major city in the world that has some connection to who they are or where they are from. Therefore, there will be consistancy in 'code names' and anonymity. After all, selective anonymity is nothing but poor journalism.
I named the journal "reverse the earth", and this remains the only thing that could possibly give me away to people who know me. Have you ever thought about what the world would be like if it was reversed? If we were like Jupiter on the outside, then layers of rock, and then inside, a small bubble that connected all of us? How would our lives be different? Would we fight more? Would we use our limited resources better? We would have evolved differently, of course, but it is an interesting thought. Think about it.
Welcome to the Reversed Earth. Think with me. Write with me. Reflect with me. And above all, let's do this all outside the box. All is fair here. No opinions will be deleted, and I want comments and thoughtful replies to my posts. That is what this is here for.
