Besties for the Resties

She always did what she thought was best;
Everyone called her crazy, but I knew better than that. She was spontaneous, creative; she was kin, but she was more than that.
She was loved by a frizzled redhead. They went together like the magician’s hat and rabbit. They knew each other and got each other and would probably be simply content to spend the rest of their days glued together with laughter and spontaneous barefoot walks in the green grass under the warm sun.

Yes, they would be complete then, holding each other and smiling so wide.
I remember the curiously satisfying scribble-filled composition notebooks drawn from the depths of the cluttered darkness beneath her bed.
Oh, and we would sit and read and write and create stories both literal and visual.
And she and she, they both always knew what to do next and made everything fun.
Back when I was shorter and had to have someone else reach the freezer to open its glorious orange creamsicle-filled universe,
which to me was a treasure box all on its own ~

And we ran and we swam-all barefoot on dried, black tar roads. Everything was accessible, within arms reach–except for, of course, the deliciously frozen contents of the freezer–

And standing there,
on the two-inch-high sidewalk edge, I felt on top of the world. Me, her, and her.
We were on top of the world.

We laughed without knowing the height at which we danced, never even caring to look down upon the unworthy world below.

 

For Hannah and Livvy, 
I love you guys.

 

 

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Waking up to the delicious thought of cream cheese-filled, sesame-sprinkled bagels a block away.
Walking beneath colorful slates of brilliance at night’s old age.
The gasps of pleasure when dreams come true.
And the silent features of reluctant disappointment when dreams don’t come true.
Fighting daily for attention and the laughter of others.
Brushing shoulder against shoulder as weary bodies shuffle down the dirty streets in pairs; the fear of being alone hanging over everyone’s bare head.

The pains of inner icicles during the evening and turning from one form of entertainment to the next.

New York…
The land in my dreams and in my memories evermore. This was truly a dream come true.

Phantom of the Opera
.
Wicked
.
Anastasia
.
Waitress

I Emailed a Famous YouTuber

Okay guys, I watch this channel called “Jaiden Animations.” Don’t know if you’ve heard of her, but I absolutely LOVE watching her videos. I was inspired by her to make an animation video. (Which, if you haven’t watched yet, you could totally check it out below)

Well, I emailed Jaiden Animations the link to this video. (I honestly don’t know why, I guess I just wanted to show her how much I appreciate her work.) And it’s not even a great video!! I mean, I guess it’s not terrible, but it’s not outstanding either. I did not think that she would even watch the video, much less reply to my email…

But guess what happened.

A few days later, she RESPONDED!! Screen Shot 2017-06-14 at 00.12.47.png I was so happy when I got this email. Jaiden actually said “great job” to me. That immediately made my day.

Jaiden is awesome, and you can visit her channel and all of her amazing content here.

 

Dumb Chicken

Screen Shot 2017-02-21 at 08.25.06.png

I can do this.

Just slip that rope underneath, and then pull tight- nope, not quite what I wanted. Suddenly the wooden pole thing starts to get loose, and I try to quickly catch it before it rolls into the sea. I’m not even completely sure what it’s for, but last time it got loose… It did not go well.

“I am Moana.”

Common, you can do this. Just try one more time.

“Of Mato-“

BANG!

My head jerks up to the trapdoor.

“-nui”

BANG!

Anxiously, I let go of the rope that I was trying to tie into a knot and cautiously open the trapdoor.

“Aah!”

I exclaim as a coconut pops out. Wait, a coconut? Slowly I lift it. I see a flash of feathery red. I slam the coconut back down again. I can’t believe it. How did he get in here?

“Hei Hei?!”

I lift the coconut off completely. Sure enough, the flimsy rooster looks around, his big bug eyes wobbling in every direction. I can’t believe it. Suddenly, he starts screaming. Not knowing what to do, I slam the coconut back on his head. After a moment, I take it off again, but he keeps screaming. I slam it back down again.

Okay, you can do this, it’s just a dumb old rooster.

I ease the coconut half off of Hei Hei again. He clucks curiously.

“Hey, it’s alright.”

I coo.

“The ocean is a friend of mine.”

I stick my hand into the water to show him that it’s alright. The water feels so good on my palm that I am not paying attention, and suddenly I notice that HeiHei is nowhere in sight.

“Hei Hei??”

I ask, alarmed. Suddenly a pair of chicken feet stick up from the water about a few feet away from the boat. “Hei Hei!” I yell, diving in after him. Once I have him in my arms, I try to make my way back to my canoe, but the wind fills the sails, and it starts floating away. UGH! Dumb chicken, always getting me into trouble….

“I”

Did you feel that? Did you see that? Read it again:

“I”

“I” what? “I” am? “I” want?

Isn’t it funny how I can make a few scratches on paper; press one key on a keyboard, and to you it could mean the world.

And that’s the thing. It’s different for every person.

To some it brings back memories, memories of writing letters to friends and forgetting to capitalize the “i” when it stands alone.

To some it brings dread. Dread of the essay outline with parts I, II, and III.

To some it brings back the face of their other half, their voice pealing triumphantly:

“I do.”

And to some, the meaning lies far beyond reach, deep down inside.

I Am Called “Cripple”

My thoughts are always terrified.

Will I live? Will I breathe? Will I die?

She comforts me, he cares for me,

But are they who they seem to be?

My mind tells me nothing will ever be the same,

But my heart tells me that I am not lame.

My thoughts are quiet like my arm

My useless hand that falls at my side.

Little do they know that though I mean no harm,

I am always scared on the inside.

My thoughts are always terrified.

Will I live? Will I breathe? Will I die?

If I survive this terrible mess,

They’ll never know how much I’ve been blessed,

Afraid that I won’t be strong enough to die,

Because if I never try,

Then who knows If I might have survived?

My thoughts are always terrified.

Will I live? Will I breathe? Will I die?