A Moment in Time [update]

Life has been entirely overwhelming recently. And my performance has been undeniably underwhelming. This will be a decidedly vomit-of-consciousness post.

School. School is probably going to be the death of me. Be it college or high school, I shall perish from the earth. So, I got in to the infamous Number One Choice (in my case, the George Washington University). Unfortunately, the Number One Choice also has a Number One Tuition Fee to go along with it. My college counselor estimates that I'll have racked up over 65,000 dollars in debt by the end of my college career. Needless to say, she does not advise throwing myself into so many loans. If GWU is not forthcoming with more aid, I may have to go to one of my not-as-high-choice schools, like Agnes Scott College or College of Charleston. That's not to say I think those schools are bad, just that they aren't my first choice. High school is a whole different kettle of fish, and I'm just trying to survive it with my writing and studying abilities intact.

I returned to my old internet haunt, which is an LGBT youth forum. I won't lie, things have changed so much. For one, there are so many more people than before, and only a few of the people from "my time" are still around. Of course, "my time" was only two short years ago. But in internet-time, that's almost two decades. To whine a little bit, there just seems to be so many people that it's hard to slip into feeling accepted. Perhaps it's partially my fault, but many of my "oldie" friends agree that it's just too busy now, it's not like when there were maybe 30 regular users. Now there are dozens. Oh well. It didn't have the "returning home" feeling I thought it would.

Senior project is absolutely daunting. My novel is still barely a third of the way finished, and I have a ten-page paper on top of it all that I must write. Fantastique. Better get on it, then.

Night [introspection]

Everything is quieter at night.
It's a simple fact. The streets are void of beer-bellied pickup trucks and mud-splattered SUV's.
I choose the sounds that fill my ears.
In fact, I'd like to stick with silence.

writing on the rocks [sketch]

she is not what I look like now.
her nubile flesh, pressed
deeply against the rocky sons
of mother earth, Desperate for
confession of her earthly sins.
under the unforgiving gaze of stars
ripens her lumpy woman-flesh,
a fruit that comes to bear in night.
oil glistens greenly in
the light of narcissistic birth,
and sends smokeless flame to lick
against a coal-colored sky.
pure night is tarnished by
the thrusts of gods, tearing
holes into her, through her,
penetrating her secret place.
but she holds us here, together,
a fruit that is a seed,
a seed sown in the dark.