One.

I have lost my whimsy.

I have lost my sense of hope.

I have lost my spontaneity.

I have lost my friends.

I have failed in love and relationships.

I have failed in the one thing I thought I was good at.

I have failed in plans.

I have failed myself.

I am nothing but a lonely drone, working for no one.

Unable to be hired.

Unable to support myself.

Unable.

I have given up on my dreams.

I have given up on my wonder.

I have given up on crossed fingers and wishing for you at 11:11.

I have given up myself to too many who have since rejected me.

I need to hit rock bottom to get my inspiration back, I need to hit rock bottom to feel alive just one more time.

1994

Nothing was more important than finding
the perfect yellow rose
in grandma and grandpa's backyard.
"This one grandma!" I would yell with my
four year old lungs and my long blond hair blowing in my face.
Those were my favorite times.
I still searched for the perfect yellow rose during our visits with grandpa after grandma died.
"This one mom." I said many years later with my
10 year old lungs and my long blond hair
blowing in my face.
Now they're both gone and their house
is someone else's home.
Somehow I know that there is still
an enthusiastic young girl, with her long hair
blowing in her face, searching for
the perfect yellow rose.

Homebody

Lately, I have been doing, pretty much, absolutely nothing. I sit at home, watching movies or t.v. or doing homework and the days I'm not sitting on my ass, I'm at school barely staying awake. I really, do not have a life. It sucks. When I was in high school, every weekend was booked and every weekday was booked and now..Tuesdays and Thursdays are booked..
I miss my friends more than anything but it doesn't feel like they miss me. They all have new friends who are more relevant in their lives, which I knew would happen, but I guess I just hoped that I'd make new friends too. I've made one new friend and she's awesome but we only see each other in class and shit.
I just don't want to waste the best years of my life.
However, I think I'm well on my way to making that fear reality.
Well..Yeah.
Woo hoo for pessimism!
False.


Just gotta tell myself, HEY! Get get get get, get over it!
asdahkl


adieu.
Nikki

Magic Road.

When my sister and I were younger, my parents would load us into the car about once a month and take us to Oroville to visit our great-grandpa Galli. These trips meant a lot to all of us, especially my dad. I was about six and we were taking our monthly expedition in my dad's 1970 Bonneville convertible. Now, this car is HUGE and we just so happened to be traveling up a pretty narrow road on the side of a rather steep mountain and we were all crossing our fingers.
My sister and I were in the back seat and I had my feet out the window pretending to be asleep. When I finally opened my eyes, all I saw in front of me were brilliant greens, rich browns, and warm mahogany rushing passed us. As the engine roared and my parents laughed and the radio played in the background, all I saw were the hypnotic colors. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. I imagined myself running through the forest. I was not running from anything or to anything in particular, just running. It was like we were on a magical road leading us to the most beautiful forest anyone could ever imagine.
After grandpa Galli died, our monthly trips turned into "every now and then" trips but we never took the magical road again. Less than a year ago, my mom and dad bought a piece of property in a town called Berry Creek which is about 20 miles away from Oroville. They visit every other weekend or so and plan to build a house on it eventually. I have yet to visit the property in Berry Creek but I hear it is a lovely place and someday I'll visit, I'm sure.
Whenever my parents mention their plan to visit Berry Creek I can't help but let my mind wander back to the backseat of the gigantic Bonneville 13 years ago. I see the brilliant greens, the rich browns, and the warm mahogany. I can still hear the roar of the engine, the sound of my parents laughter, and the soft background music of the radio. I think of this memory and I smile at how the imagination of a six year old girl with the world at her feet turned a monthly family trip into the magical road that lead to Grandpa Galli.

Conquering the mighty Spiderman.

Mikey stood there gripping the aluminum bat as Mr.Howard tied the soft, red handkerchief around his eyes. In two seconds the bright sunny day disappeared from Mikey's sight and everything went dark. He was spun 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8 times in a circle and wavered as he was release from Mr.Howard's grip. Suddenly a new form overcame Mikey. This wasn't his first birthday party and he was more than ready to be the first to break open the Pinata. Four boys had already gone ahead if him and all four of them had failed to even crack the glorious spiderman pinata. Mikey was determined that he would not be like the other boys, oh no, not this time.
Mikey took a deep breath, steadied his head from the spinning, tightened his grip on the bat, and listened. He heard the rope rubbing against the basketball hoop, he heard the thin paper fluttering in the air, he heard the boy's cheering for him, and he felt the soft wind from the cardboard super hero gently brush his face from only one foot away. He could smell the hot dogs on the barbecue and the sweat on the grip of the bat. Suddenly, "whoosh", and spiderman was directly in front of him, just one foot away. One foot away from the delicious sweets inside, one foot away from him being the hero of the party, one foot away from sheer joy.
"C'mon Mike, we don't have all day." Mr. Howard called from behind. Then, in one swift motion, Mikey took a huge step forward, cocked the bat, and swung. He was so fast no one saw it coming. Mikey made instant contact. He felt spiderman give underneath his lethal hands and ripped off the handkerchief. He looked at the ground and saw the pile of delicious sweets, the group of greedy boys, and a very destroyed spiderman lying at his feet. Finally Mikey had achieved his goal, finally HE would be the hero of the party, finally HE would have the bragging rights. Michael James Finnegan smiled victoriously and dove to the ground to fill his party bag with his winnings.

Lucy

This is just something that came to me this morning and I think that there's a lot of room for it to grow.
I wrote it for my short story writing class.

The the middle of everything, there I was. My name is Lucy Marie Forrester and I've been on my own for a while. After my parents died, my brother Evan and my sister Renee moved to suburbia to raise families and I stayed in New York City in the apartment I was raised in. Everyone keeps telling me that the city has nothing left for me, but I don't believe them. No one understands why I stay, and they don't have to. I have dreams, big dreams, and I know that New York, New York is the place to achieve them.
Here are the facts about me; I'm approximately twenty-three years and 65 days old, I'm about five foot 3 inches, and I weigh (roughly) 146 pounds. I have a cute button nose, bright blue eyes, full lips, and the cheek bones of Ingrid Bergman. My auburn hair hangs in curls just at my shoulders. I'm a completely average American female who believes she's in the right place at the wrong time.
"C'mon Luce, what's left for you here?" Evan said,"You're not gonna be a 'big' movie star. Maybe a a BIG star, but not a 'big' movie star."
Evan added an unnecessary emphasis on the second "big" in his sentence and made a circular motion around his abdomen.
"Fuck you Evan. Why do you always have to be such a jerk? Mom and dad always told me that I had a gift and that I was unique, I'll be damned if I let someone like you ruin that for me."
"Lucy,"Evan said very seriously,"I'm just stating the facts. Hollywood isn't looking for short, fat actresses. Look at Angelina Jolie, is she short and fat? No."
"What about Marilyn Monroe?" I retorted,"She wore a size fourteen dress."
"Luce, this is not the 50's. Society does not think that's beautiful anymore. I'm saying this because I love you, I'm your brother, and I don't want to see you get hurt. Just give up. It isn't worth it."
When that conversation was finally over, I began practicing my lines for my audition next week. You see, I want to be a Broadway star and my audition next week is for the role of Rizzo in the musical "Grease". Although I'm auditioning for Rizzo, I really don't mind who they cast me as, as long as I get a part. Evan's just a dick because he has no dreams of his own, and I feel sorry for him. As I pushed the heated conversation that just ensued with my only brother out of my head, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and began to sing.
Lucy's heart was pounding against her ribcage, her palms were sweaty, and her knees were shaking uncontrollably. It was two hours before her big audition and the only line running through her mind was, "Please Luce, do NOT screw this one up". All of her lines were memorized, all of her papers were filled out, and every single nerve in her body had gone numb. Stage fright wasn't new for Lucy but this audition was different. If she got this part, she'd be able to pay her rent and wouldn't have to play house in Central park until the next part rolled around. Lucy closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and and listened to the clock as her big break drew closer and closer.
When it all started, I walked out to the luminous stage to face the four casting directors.
"Name?" The bald man in the purple sweater all the way to the left of the table called out.
"Lucy Forrester" I called back.
"Well then Lucy, you have 10 minutes to do your song and monologue we've asked you to prepare. If we like you, you'll get a callback. Please begin whenever you're ready."
I nodded my head twice, took a deep breath, stood up straight, and began to sing.

1-20-09

What an amazing time to be an American.