Ice

"And my head keeps spinning, I can't stop having these visions, I gotta keep with it" -Kanye West

I have this bag of ice laying on my knee and I don't know what I did to it. Three hours ago, it decided it might be a pain- and it decided so adamantly. As a runner, this might be bad- for the next couple of days, or at least hours, it'll be just me in my room and possible snacks.

I do stupid things- but I don't regret my beautiful run in the rain yesterday- you'd think it'd hurt after that- it acts up randomly. So mellow dramatic- it's actually not too bad. Listening to Kanye West and getting minimal homework done. I must do the homework, or some other activity away from this small room- or lord knows---silliness and anxiety overtakes sanity. Homework, reading, stress.

I could speak of my insecurities, the insecurities of others- or write excruciatingly bad poems- which I've got to stop misplacing or losing all together. A lot of blood, sweat, and tears lie within those, which are often much better than the ones on here.
-It's not a night where poems are coming to mind.

Here's the beginning of my story which I began a month ago., I don't know where I'm going with this either.

"From the comfort of her bunk, she stared into the vast open. Frost had invaded the windshield of every car in the school’s parking lot like a pandemic. Sub-zero temperatures were heading their way for several days to come. "

I have a vast emptiness complex that scares me- and I have things to say that I can't say on here. I rarely write in the journal because of this blog-- but tonight it might need to come out....

Though, everyday at Colby, right when I'm feeling unmotivated and terrible about my skills, I meet amazing, smart, and motivated people who care, truly care about things- and they inspire me. I realize that I may not be great in the areas that they're great in, and I may not be them, but I'm here for a reason, and just as they're not perfect but still out there working hard and making a difference- I'm that person out there. Maybe I'll write a story, maybe I'll finish my reading for this weekend, maybe I'll do the paper. The to-do list is too long, and I've done none of it---- the inspiration came at the perfect time.

The realization of truly important matters had the perfect timing, poems concerning... things which life ought not concern, are a matter of another day.

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"When I look at you, my mind goes on a trip." -Keri Hilson

The talk with my friend goes as such...

She said "you know when you're merely in the library, in one of those darkened rooms with no windows, and you've been working for hours on homework? I'm tough as rocks, and I don't need anything-but I'm still a girl, you know? The most romantic thing in the world would be if someone noticed and brought me a Pepsi, or asked me to take a break and go for a walk. It's thoughtful- easy- but it's a little gesture like that which makes every difference."

As with most of my friends, she's brilliant. Honestly, regardless if we're tough at rocks, opinionated-- at the end of the day-- it's not our goal to knock down the opposite sex and strip them of the ego that surrounds their maleness.

The maleness, practicality, strength, hard work, intelligence is....... endearing. No female really wants to be a dude, we're tough because we have goals and ambitions. The high pitched, agreeable, high ponytail wearing, brainlessness which spells "easy" to the opposite sex also does not work in the favor of female suffrage... at all.

But there's a difference between that and robotic.

No, not to the level of forcing the opposite sex to endure the often horrific "romantic comedies" and "walks on the beach", that even makes me laugh. But simply because there's room for being mentally ambitious does not mean that emotional compacity is maxed with that.

- Yes the prince, and the white horse, and the thoughtfulness is appreciated at intervals- not so much that one becomes a "girl" persay. But merely for one to showcase that he has more than 2 brain cells alive.- Not a makeout scene or cliche roses- but a Pepsi and a forehead kiss-- not in suits-- showcasing their every brilliance (so insecure)-- but in jeans and a t-shirt and a casual convo.

- That's a prince and white horse, he's normal, casual, feels no need to prove himself- or to do too much. You'd think it would thus be easier than coming up with a plethora of lies or trying so hard to be slick that one is merely fake--- a man is secure. And since every man declares himself a man, you'd think there'd be more of those.