Stream of Consciousness

Forgive, but Never Forget (11/27/2012)

Author's note: This is a piece that goes to a quite dark place for me. We were doing a stream of consciousness, about family and spending time with the ones you love... I couldn't find anything to say, until I started writing this. Over Thanksgiving Break, a person called, and I refused to talk to him, other than saying "Hello." My mom was very mad at me. Anyways, I was going to transfer this into a poem, but decided against it, as this is pretty poetic as it is. 

Incoherently you babble. Living life on the edge; constantly disappointing the world, our family. I miss that warm, hearty smile, the strong friend to lean on. The way your hands move, painting, and working. Loving life, enjoying what you have, only thinking briefly about that you don't. Lightening up souls, jabbering about this and that, loving life.

Life has brought the grey, the darkness. It leads you astray from that which you really need. That which you have lost sight of.  Still the same person, deep inside, yet not appearing as yourself. Appearing as a dark, lost soul, living life with dread. Inflicting upon others your sorrow, your bad mood. Forcing others to cope with your lack of sanity. Doing anything to forget: breaking things, drinking… Trying to forget the mistakes of the past, to forget yourself. 

The way to continue on is never forgetting. Forgive, but never forget. 

Among the Stars (10/1/2012)

Author's Note: This is another stream of consciousness exercise that was done in class. The word for this one was "moon." I sort of went into the theme of childhood innocence, and how there are still people, in our  grade even, who have not left that state. I tried a different conclusion style this time, please let me know how it worked. 

There is something perfect about the small reflected light up in the sky. "I see the moon and the moon sees me, God bless the moon and God bless me." The tranquility of a simple gaze up at the moon is like the innocence of a child, singing that song.

I know I have a pillow case, a tangible piece of fabric, bearing the words of that song. Every night before bed, as though a chant, I would sing the song softly, until it was stuck in my head, and I would be happy. Good dreams were in for me that night. I don't really know where that pillow case went, or why I have not thought of that song in so long. I am sure if stuffed in that pillowcase again, my pillow would laugh at it, because I am too old for childish behaviors, and too old for such silly things.

It is now laughed at, those childhood obsessions, those things our worlds revolved around as infants. It was then that we were so innocent, so unaware of the harshness, so fulfilled with Elmo, and Hello Kitty, that the real world, when stricken upon us, was a nightmare. I remember the first day of kindergarten, I was so scared, I nearly hid under my bed, hoping to not have to go, hoping to just be able to watch my cartoons.

Such little things kept us happy, so small of ideas, and characters, overjoyed us. Now it is laughed at, people wear Hello Kitty shirts to school as a joke, or have Tinker Bell pajama bottoms, because they are funny. There are still those few, that have kept their innocence, and can wear their Hello Kitty sweatshirts with pride, who still haven't fallen out of the innocent state of revolving around fiction. It is hard to comprehend, how differently they think, how they don't find funny what we find funny, how they are serious about such nonsense.

Lost souls, they seem, those who are fortunate enough to still believe in such absurdity, to literally dress themselves in outfits that are laughed at, to set themselves up for such mocking, because it unreal. They are the lucky ones, though, for they are the ones who laugh off reality, who can get away from reality by watching childish shows. They are the ones who can manage to control this insanity; they are the little girl, singing without any worries.

I see the moon and the moon sees me. God bless the moon and God bless me.

Stone (9/15/2012)

Author's Note: I have found that in most of these activities, I end up with my mind on nature, and escaping reality. I have this life long dream of retiring in the woods, away from civilization. The starting word for this one was "stone," and I automatically thought of throwing stones into the river. I sort of took the idea of the "big, polluted, dreadful city" and used it in my piece. The photo I chose was an art piece, because I wanted it to look like almost fake it was so stunning of a picture. Photo credit to "Sherry Crouse Art".

As I lay among the stones, peacefully enjoying the ripple of the water in the river, I can faintly hear the sounds of the city, laying a mile down the river, at the thought of the noisy, polluted madness, I cringe, remembering why I am here. I lay up the river, because here is where the water is clean, free of waste, fresh from the spring, it is possible that I could stay here for hours, if only it weren't for reality. Trying to clear my head,  I look up the river a ways, and see a young fawn by her mother, having her first drink from the river. Her innocence makes me giddy, compared to my heavy, distrusting life, I watch her, slipping as they cross the river, only barely able to hear the sounds of her hooves over the light current in the creek. As she disappears, I find myself frustrated, wishing to be of her innocence, wishing to have a fresh start, wishing to escape reality. I pick up a few stones from beside me, gently tossing them one after another into the river, the little plopping sound, and see birds fly up, spooked of the noise. If only I could be this free, never have to return to the gloomy, dark city. I stand up, prepared to face my doom, facing the reality, hoping to someday be back, as I see salmon, rushing up stream, them too trying to escape their death, them too, afraid to go with the current, afraid to fall into the trap of the city. I pick up a heavy rock, chucking it at the ground, so irritated, but finally determining that it is time to get back to reality, to come back to my dreadful, monstorous world.