The Bridge

Rain drops fall from the fountain.

"Can you just...

yeah that's nice."

It was cold that day,

warm at first but chilled by a phone call.

Drip. Drip.

A solid-colored pale collects.

Chocolate chip cookies are tissues.

Tissues are therapy.

Raised eyebrows ask for help.

Sniff. Sniff.

Laughter becomes bandaids.

Hands become bridges.

Hugs transform feelings,

feelings of "I'm right here"

Kleenex soaks problems up

and throws them away.

The bridge shortens its length.

You finally come to realize

that it was warm that day.

Reflection

     I've finally come to my final creative writing project: an actual short story. The story is supposed to be based off of a serious emotion. Something deep within ourselves. I chose an emotion that I just can't seem to name. The feeling you get when you think of yourself very highly and then get a wake-up call that reveals to you that you're not. We all have our own perceptions of ourselves, but its not until we look straight into a mirror that we see what we truly are.

-------------------------------------------

Blood flows through water like wisps of smoke in a field.

             Frederick Dempsey dunked his head in the clogged sink, coming up as if gasping for air. He stared at his drenched face in the mirror, but the reflection didn’t stare back at him. Shaking hands reached for the paper towel dispenser. No matter how many times the lever was pulled, nothing came out. Damn janitors never do anything around here. There was a penny on top of the dispenser, Frederick took it for safe keeping.

            He opened the door to the outside world. Around him was darkness, with only an exit sign to light the way. Walking blindly through the halls was no problem, he always stays late. There was a problem though, and Frederick clumsily tripped on it. There was one single body leaned on the wall, contemplating.

“Sorry.”

            Though there was no answer back. Frederick, after getting off the ground, looked around for person he offended, but only noticed a lump on the ground. A lump that, when focused, turned into a body, and when focused even more, revealed a lobotomy, with half of the brain touching the outside air. There was a thud and Frederick was out.

---

            “Age: twenty-six, height: about five feet, eleven inches, and pretty lanky.”

            “Wallet says Frederick Dempsey. Not much in here; just a license, six bucks, and a to-do list. Do you really need to put ‘feed dogs’ on the list?”

            “Damn, that’s a huge gash on his head. I wonder what he hit him with?”

            “Mason, he’s waking up.”

            Frederick was always the odd one out, with only his dogs to keep him company. Leaning more towards Asperger’s and autism on the spectrum. He slowly awoke in a hospital bed blinking furiously. Knowing he was disoriented, Frederick distinctly reached for his aspirin, although as soon as he touched where his pocket would be, he felt nothing but the scratchy cloth of a hospital gown. Oh god, someone died in this yesterday. Frederick found his glasses on the side table and finally analyzed his surroundings. Everything was white with black littered around it. Iodoform was in the air. Once Frederick put the puzzle together, he immediately wanted to get out. A hospital was the last place he wanted to be. A place where more people can decide what’s wrong with him. Before he could rush out, he noticed a man and woman dressed nice in a subtle way.

            “Did you find out what’s wrong with me yet?”

            “Whoa buddy, we know who you are, but we aren’t here to psychoanalyze you. I’m Mason and this is my partner Beverley. We’re working on the Ice Pick Murderer cases.”

            “You gotta stop calling him that. Look, Freddy, can I call you Freddy? This murderer has killed three times so far, and I don’t think he’s going to stop now. We’ve read your paper on psychic driving. It’d be nice to have a psychiatrist consultant on the case; we could really use your help.”

            Frederick, still a little disoriented, was reluctant. He was still convinced this was just a ploy to peek inside his mind.

            “Maybe you guys should think before you ask someone who’s also crazy to help you on catching a sociopath. I could just as easily become one myself.”

            “Mason and I want no one else Freddy. No one understands them like you do.”

            “Yeah, we’re desperate to catch this guy, and we think you’re the one to help us do that.”

            “There’s nothing you can do to convince me to help you. Nurse! Can you please escort these two out? I think I’m getting a migraine.”

            Beverley had to get one last thing out of her mouth as she was being pulled out of the room. She couldn’t help it.

            “You could save lives Freddy. Think about how many more have to die before you open your eyes and help us.”

---

            Soon the caution tape subsided and Frederick was allowed to return to his office and continue his practice. Psychology isn’t the easiest when you’re so good at it. Frederick can look at someone, hear them speak, and know what’s truly going on, understanding their minds better than his patients. Though, that was the most interaction he got on most days. Tonight, he was worried about what Beverley had said to him. How many people did have to die before he would be convinced to help the FBI?

            The reasoning for not helping them isn’t because he doesn’t care, it’s because he was afraid of what he would take out of the case. To Frederick, death was one of the most gruesome, disgusting things that happen. Getting that close, becoming a seeker of death, was not something that Frederick wanted. He stepped into his office and walked around, looking at the library that surrounded him. It had two stories, but the second was just a ledge overlooking the first just so he could have more room for his books. There was a fireplace behind his desk and two chairs that sat across from each other in front of the desk. Definitely a collector of books, Frederick believed in achieving a vast palace of knowledge. He reached his chair and dropped down as if he’d just run a marathon, another migraine coming to him. Taking his glasses off, he rubbed his eyes. It was only nine thirty-six. He laid back as his chair creaked and imagined.

            Early dawn came smoothly, a slight breeze of cool wind tickling the ears that brought the smell of sweet pine to the nose. Over the trees, the sunrise aftermath was visible: a mix of orange, yellow, and a hint of blue. All around are trees. Trees that surround a river, and inside that river is a man. This man was the reflection of Frederick. He was dressed in fly fisherman garb: wadders, a flannel, and some huge rain boots. He flung his home-made lure out with the rod to catch some food. Fly fishing is easy. All you have to do is lure the fish so they come to you, almost as if they wanted to be caught. Not much work was needed, but the reward was huge. The man looked at peace, standing there with the rushing water having no effect on his balance. The man had caught nothing and was feeling as though he would call it a day, so he threw his last line and felt the tug. He pulled, finally happy, straight to the net. This fish wasn’t going anywhere. The small trout was getting closer and closer to the net and then finally…

            There was a ringing in Frederick’s ears. The number on the screen was foreign to Frederick, so he shut it off. Though, almost instantly, the same number called back. It was six forty in the morning. He answered the phone and, as expected, it was Beverley. I should make my office phone private.

            “Freddy, I need you down here stat. This is the worst one yet, please. We need you out in the field with us. Just this once.”

            Reluctantly, “Alright… Alright.. Yeah. Where are you?”

            “Fifth street, more towards sixth, and Freddy, prepare yourself. It’s ugly.”

---

            Frederick arrived to the blinding red and blue lights that surrounded a horrific scene. Beverley and Mason could be seen around what was left of two corpses, but it wasn’t the fact that there were two dead bodies that made the scene horrific. It was because of what had been done to them. They were lobotomized like the murder in Frederick’s office, but this time the brains were completely out of their heads with the brainstem still attached to the spinal cord through the skull. The bodies were arranged to show a piece of art: they shaped an ice pick. Pure mutilation. Frederick, repulsed by what was looking back at him, slowly trudged over towards the two detectives, holding in the sickness that could project from his mouth at any second.

            “Well I’m certainly awake now.”

            “Beverley already examined the bodies. Both are psychiatrists. The mutilation was done post-mortem. Both brains are still attached, looks like it was carefully cut out. This guy certainly has surgical knowledge. The bodies resemble an— “

            “An ice pick yeah. He must’ve heard your nickname, and by looking at this, he doesn’t really like it.”

            “Freddy, we need you to interpret the evidence. Tell us what he’s thinking.”

            “You want me to reconstruct the crime?”

            “Whatever you need to do. I’ll clear everyone out and give you some room.”

            As Mason cleared everyone from inside the caution tape, Frederick stood there, staring at the ice pick that lay before him. He closed his eyes and interpreted the evidence, looking through the lens of the ice pick murderer.

            Two men who pick at hopeless minds. They sicken me. How could anyone in this world devote their life to shifting through people’s brains and rearranging the furniture. Leaving the man inside his house, but making his surroundings foreign to him. I go to each of them individually. Stress marks around the necks suggest that I strangled the life out of you. I wanted to look into your eyes while your breath was slowly taken from you. As your life force shrunk into nothingness. After both bodies were lifeless before me, I proceeded to humiliate them as they humiliate their patients. Picking apart the brains just as their practice suggest they should. This isn’t for me; this is for everyone to see. A symbol, a work of art that suggests these two were wrong. Clowns in the name of science. Their humiliation entails a lobotomy to the most aggressive degree. I cut open the skull, revealing the most precious organ. Carefully having the brain still attached to the cervical vertebrae, I pull the brain from the skull. Creating a functional human, just undeserving of our precious organ, but why in the shape of an ice pick? What did I hear that term from? That horrid term. They want to label me. They want to make me into something, just like the two psychiatrists before me. I want this symbol to be recognized, seen by all. Using theatrics is the best way to showboat my design. I want to mock my nickname, showing I’m not someone to be trifled with. An ice pick formation will mock the psychiatrists and the people trying to catch me, theatrics. The term still bothers me. I hate that name. I AM NOT IN THE WRONG. I AM IN THE RIGHT. I AM…

            Heavy breathing filled Frederick’s office, as he suddenly came into consciousness. His heart beating faster than it ever has before. He couldn’t control it, the breathing controlled him. As he tried to focused on where he was and what was going on, his breathing slowly ceased to be above his resting rate. How did I get in my office? He had never lost track of time like this before. His clock said seven seventeen, and the sun had disappeared from the sky. I lost an entire day. He called Beverley:

            “Hey did I seem weird when I left the crime scene?”

            “Well you seemed your usual weird self. You actually gave Mason and I some great insight about what the Ice Pick Murderer was thinking, and I bet it’ll be easier for us to catch him now. You’ve saved lives Freddy. Just remember that. Are you okay? You sound stressed.”

            “I just woke up, but I’m fine. I just wanted to know how I helped out.”

            “Yeah you were very helpful, and, listen, I won’t make you do that again. I know it’s hard for you to get that close to a killer’s mind.”

            “Thanks”

            “Hey you haven’t seen Mason anywhere have you? I can’t seem to reach his cell.”

            “No, I haven’t seen— “

            As Frederick muttered those words, his eyes darted around the room and they stumbled upon a lobotomized Mason. Frederick was speechless, and dropped his phone. He looked down at his hands, and they were covered in dried blood. At that moment, Frederick noticed a scalpel and sewing supplies on his desk, both riddled with dried blood. Mason’s body was sitting up next to the fireplace, with his mouth sewn shut. Theatrics. Frederick eyes darted around, interpreting the evidence. They landed on the mirror above his fireplace, his reflection staring right back at him. 

Take Me Back

     In 24 hours, I was to run a race, a race I still feel unwelcome from since the amount of speed that is needed and the amount of speed that my legs can carry are not the same. Every race in college has been nerve-wracking. Maybe I get an unnatural amount of butterflies in my stomach, or maybe I just think to much. Either way, I was worried. So, naturally, I wanted to take my mind off of it. It was a Friday night and we had nothing to do. I talked to everyone about having a movie night to calm the unnerving nerves. Every time we have a movie night, I suggest my favorite disney movie, Robin Hood, but no one ever wants to watch it. I always get overruled, although, this time I was persistent and aggressive. We watched it; I was so happy.

     Throughout the movie you could here people saying, "wow it takes me back," or, "dang this I used to love this." A bunch of college kids sitting around a tv watching a cartoon that was made in the 70s. You wouldn't really expect it, but Disney movies are still good. We had one hundred percent enjoyment out of that. It made me so nostalgic. I remember the times when I did my homework in like thirty minutes and then go outside to pretend I was either Aragorn, Robin Hood, or Peter Pan. What happened to the days where we could go outside and actually, honestly 'play'? I see myself growing up through the years and find the answer: it has everything to do with imagination. Looking at past pictures of myself, I can see how I progressed and grew out of my imagination.

     I think there were stages in my life that were defined by where I lived. Now, I don't really remember the apartment my mom and I lived in or the house we moved into with my dad, but I do remember the house we lived in during my elementary years. Good old Granger Trail Rd in Fort Worth, Texas. That was the place where I would pretend for hours upon hours I was out on the battlefield fighting for my castle or out in the forest stealing from Prince John or pranking Captain Hook. All were fun. Then we had to moved to Las Vegas to live with my grandmother. I did the same thing except I added captain Jack Sparrow to the list. Running through the house my grandmother owned and killing the Kraken. After that we ended up in an apartment in Euless, Texas. I moved on to only playing with my Lord of the Rings action figures or riding my scooter wherever I damn well pleased inside the complex. I had some sick 3 cm jumps in that time. Soon, after moving into that apartment, we got a place back in Keller, Texas. That was from the beginning of 5th grade to the end of 10th grade. I actually remember early on trying to play outside and it ending up not being fun to me anymore. I was inside my video game phase in this Keller house. Soon enough, I came into a guitar playing phase, where that would be what I did all day. Finally, we moved to Farmington, Maine. I dropped the guitar and stopped playing as many video games. What I did for fun was goofing around with my friends. I had always hung out with my friends, but not as much as I did when I moved to Farmington. Then, after graduating, I got into a grunge phase where I was super into rap and skateboarding. That lasted until about a month ago. Now, freshman in college at the University of Maine, I just want to do anything except homework.

     I was required to own a blog my senior year for AP Lit. I wrote a post about deciding which college I wanted to go to. I said, "I've gone from wanting to be Robin Hood to being an architect to wanting to be a physical therapist. This choice is freaking hard, and the pressure is on. The constant questions from my parents and all the graduating situations and this and that and more of this. Everything leads up to this one choice. I just wish being Robin Hood was still an option." So why does Robin Hood still fit in my changed self? Because I'm still that little kid who pretended to steal from Prince John. WE are still the little Robin Hood that we used to be.

My Inspiring Girls

     Sometimes it's hard to think about what made you the way you are, or what shaped you. Its a loaded question. You could answer with the simple go to and say "well God gives me the strength to go on." Or you could say that its because you trust in the Lord and that's all you need. Well there is another answer to it, and to find it, you'll have to go under the simple "christian' outer layer that lights off of us. Think to yourself: what did God DO to give you the strength to go on. What did God put in your life to make it so livable. Its so easy to just accept that God does things for us, but we don't usually tend to ask how he does these things. We christians are a lot like toddlers. The icing on a cake is delicious, and obviously the best-looking part of it, although the cake on the inside is just as good. The inside just doesn't get eaten as much. Even though that's the actual 'cake' part of it.

     There are so many things God has put in my life to show me strength, but, in the spirit of National Siblings Day, I'm going to talk about the two gifts he put on this world: my sisters. My sisters are the light of my life and always have been. I've been blessed to be related to some kind souls, and have seriously been lucky that they aren't brats. That they aren't mean. I only wish they were here. Being in college is so stressful and they know just they way to help with the stress. Being with my sisters is blissful and fun; we always have a great time. I'm so glad they can text through their iPods now because I'd be going crazy without their ridiculous videos.

     My eldest sister, Mia, is now a tween. It's weird to see her grow up and mature. I remember her as a baby. I can always have one thing over my parents and its that I was the first person Mia smiled at when she was born. She taught me how to become an older brother. Memories are filled with me watching over here, as I'm 6 years older. Of course though, I got the my-parents-don't-care-about-me-anymore feeling at the beginning and resented her for it. Wow how I was wrong for that. Now she's a smart kid who can finally sit in the front of a car. I can always count on her to be the thoughtful and sensitive one out of the three of us.

     My youngest sister, Grace, finally got to double digits in the age category. She's the craziest, funniest girl I've ever met. I've seen her grow from a daring baby crawling off couches into an even more daring kid who can always argue her view. She's just a year younger than Mia, so she also taught me how to be an older brother. As the years have gone by, I've been able to see one of the most creative minds grow. She's shown me how a tiny girl who believes in unicorns become a little girl who can draw and paint with more skill than I could ever dream. I can always count on her to do something to make me laugh or grab my arm because she wants to sit next to me at the table.

     There aren't many things in this world that could make me laugh while I'm anxiously studying for an exam that's the next day, but my sisters can do just that. They are probably the things I love most in this world, and will definitely continue to surprise me as I get to watch them both grow. They are part of the 'cake' that I was talking about. They aren't just something I use to show that I have a good life, they're what I look forward to whenever I go home.

Cats And Dogs And Rooster Calls

     There is a big difference between racing in high school and racing in college. No longer are you one of the best around, but now you're not even a known person in the community. Just another runner for a school that isn't really one that people pay much attention to. Instead of leading races, you're in the middle of the pack trying to hang on, but these guys are on a whole other level. When everyone seems to just speed by while you are also trying to speed up, but can't.

     I used to know how to race. I could lead out in the front, or I could make daring moves. This was in high school though, back when the big leagues was the state meet. Now, though, every single race feels like a high school state meet. Every single race gives me the same anticipation; the same butterflies in my stomach. That didn't used to happen. In high school I ran out front, running away from everyone else. Kind of like I didn't want to be near anyone. I raced like a cat.

     Its different now. During a race you can find me in the middle of the pack, not daring to take the lead because I'm scared of the fast college kids. Probably the wort mindset you could have while racing, but I admit it: I'm scared in races. I know that I shouldn't think like this, but I can't help it. I. Just. Feel. So. Slow. When I'm compared to the guys I'm racing. I race like a dog.

     There is a solution though: getting over it. I just need to suck it up, to stop making things out worse than they actually are. Its just racing, not life and death. What is useful to me right now is a wake up call. A rooster call. The plan sounds easy in words, but it's so hard. Some things are like that though. When, in words, you can do it, but when you actually try, it's near impossible. I guess if they were easier, we would live perfect lives. Although, we don't live perfect lives, no one does.

They take away

The lonely days

For now...

A Dollar's Worth Of Bread And Some Fancy Cheese

     Walmart sells baguettes a dollar a piece. Something I find amazing because baguettes are delicious and are a lot of bread for a dollar. There's also this really delicious fancy cheese that Walmart sells, its got almond and bacon crumbs on the exterior and the sharpest cheddar you'll ever taste. Some might not think of this as a meal, but, in reality, it's got all the food groups. You have your carbs from the bread, protein from the cheese and bacon, and then you got the other stuff from almonds and cheese. How could you go wrong?

     You can't, and that is exactly why Anthony and I bought this as our dinner. It's amazing how you can still have a great time when you just talk to your friend over some fancy cheese from Walmart. We talked for a very long time about what all of us are doing, and when I say all of us, I don't mean just him and I. I meant the core friend group that we made. The 'Bros of Farmington' if you will (don't copy that, that's mine COPYRIGHT). We talked about how we all went to some different places and are all doing different things now. How its sad we aren't all together, but its so awesome that we are all friends and are around different areas. Our group of friends can branch out and go anywhere they want. It's like an elementary class trip to the museum and the kids scatter to touch whatever they can.

     My friend Luke is in the army corp. at the University of A&M in Texas. He's balancing his studies with his army corp. studies, the guy is a savage. Sam is down in Minnesota studying biology. A little addicted to partying, but still acing his classes like nobody's business. Zack is in a band, and he's on Spotify and Pandora. This guy is a rockstar! Brendan is in the prestigious school of music: Berklee in Boston. Someday you're going to see Brendan's name in the spot were John William's name is supposed to be. Anthony lives on a boat because he goes to MMA. He knows how to fix his bed so well that you could bounce a dime off of it. Dan, my best friend on this rocky earth, is in a different world even though he's my roommate. Homework and joking around is basically all we do because why the hell not, we're in college. The lovely Michaela is in France and killing it in the friendship department. Truly an amazing feat to be so enticing to others. Then there's me who is just trying to survive the grind that kinesiology majors have to deal with. Just a bunch of kids who still use razor scooters. I couldn't have asked for better friends.

     I guess I'm just feeling a little nostalgic today, but I miss my friends. Don't get me wrong, I don't miss high school a single bit. The nostalgia comes from being able to see everyone every day. Getting to walk around the halls like you own the place, that's what I miss. We would goof around everyday and made life the most enjoyable thing we could. I love that we can just come back to our home ground, Farmington, and be able to get back into those habits. All we need is a dollar's worth of bread and some fancy cheese.

I've Got A Friend In You

     Standing there in a row of chairs, singing Come Thou Fount was just what I needed yesterday. We have been deciding what church we want to go to because there are some pros and cons for each, and we weren't really sure about the music at the church we decided to go to. Though the music was amazing. They played the perfect mix of hymns and contemporary songs. I felt like God was talking to me that day. Making me realize that I haven't given him the attention that I should be giving him. 

     Easter: a time for us to celebrate Jesus rising from the dead. A time when we can all get together and exalt our many feelings for the Lord. I remember when I first started actually believing in Christ. There was just something missing in my life. I was constantly trying to fill that hole with things that could never even get close to filling. I remember thinking that there has to be a way to fill that, just something more to life than what I was doing. So one night I just laid on my bed thinking alright, let's try this out.

     Josh and I talked for 13 miles. We always have great conversation when we run together, whether we joke around or we talk about our lives, its always a great time. I've been friends with him for three years and he still continues to surprise me. He didn't used to be a christian, he was actually the opposite. I've been able to see this man find his own path while I watched my walk with christ deteriorate, and now we are on the same path as friends. This is the Josh that I want to be friends with. He's such an inspiration to me and should be to others. We ran for an hour and twenty four minutes and just had the most real talk that, I think, we've ever had. He's a person I can be honest with and a person who shares my beliefs and feelings.

     I feel like ever since Josh became a christian, we've gotten closer in our friendship. Which is so nice because being a christian in Maine can be hard. There aren't many of us in this beautiful state. We were talking about that and how FCA is so refreshing to be able to share and fellowship with others. This is something you see at Easter: the families who only go to church twice a year (Christmas Eve and Easter). The usual easy-to-find seats were jam packed with new people. The pastor made a comment about it and mentioned that they are always welcome. Easter brings us all together, and with everything that is going on in this beautiful, but destructive, world, we need each other.

L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N.

     It's been not even a week back from break and we are already bombarded with homework. I am constantly nose deep inside my textbooks, but right now I can't help not enjoying myself. Studying with friends eases the pain by like 10%. I'm glad to be back. When we were on our way to school, I definitely didn't feel that way. Life is confusing like that. We fear what we think, and I thought that going back to school would be equivalent to jumping in a vat of acid. Though, I'm enjoying myself; whilst studying (WHAT IS THIS).

     Another thing on my mind isn't as cheerful. A person very important to me is across the many waves of the Atlantic. I miss her and want her to come back to the beautiful states of freedom. I just find myself wanting a hug from her. Nothing can compare to seeing her in person. Not skype not text not calling. There's really no substitute to our dynamic, I almost feel incomplete. Like there's something that I'm missing in the morning, but I think its just me missing her. Although I feel this way, and want everything to change, there's nothing I can do because I don't control the world. I just have to trudge along for another 3 weeks and stay patient. You know life's just confusing that way. It's okay though because

Let

It

Feel

Ecstatic

Go
On
Elevated
Stairs

Only
Nodding

     As the famous Dory said, "just keep swimming." It's so hard to not get caught up in the curveballs that life throws at you. I like the song that Noah and the Whale preforms because it just about going with the flow of things. It's something that I think they share with The Head and the Heart. The Head and the Heart have a song called Let's Be Still. The world just spins a little too fast and I wish that it was easier to keep up with everything, but it's not. We try so hard to move fast and get things done as quick as possible, but there's a big difference between quality and quantity. I wish that this new quick society wasn't 'practical'. It makes me want to jump off the grid and live in the forest.

     Seriously, I could do this, I just need to study the movie Into the Wild as much as I can because that guy was a genius.

TRANSCENDENTALISM

Dear America

America the beautiful

America the great

Something I love

Something I hate

Why don't we just sit down and relax

Instead of acting like everything is a fight

No one in this country has all the facts

Everyone in this country has all the might

Cruz wants more war and less diversity

Kasich thinks very highly of himself

Trump thinks very highly of his penis

Hillary is a liar and massive feminist

Bernie believes in barely not communism

Together is the only way to live

Together is the only way to lead

Apart we can never give

Apart we we can never feed

Something I hoped

Something I dreamed

America the doped

America the deemed

I'm Doing Laundry Right Now

Living in the dorms has many setbacks. One of those is having to spend money to do laundry, with having sweaty running clothes to make it even worse.  So every time I come home, I cherish and overuse my parents' washer and dryer. Today, I'm doing it for the last time before I go back to college. The way I do laundry seems a little unorthodox to others, but it has worked and I haven't had a problem yet. I THROW EVERYTHING IN AT THE SAME TIME. Yes, colors and whites and blacks galore. It's basically the chef's special at some crappy restaurant: the cook threw all the left over stuff into the batch. 

     I saw Zootopia with my sisters last night (side note: the movie theatre in Augusta is so fancy). It was a really good movie, and I would definitely suggest it as a fun family movie. It had talking animals and funny moments. Everything you would expect out of a Disney movie, though, there was a little more to it than that. Other than the interesting, and frankly very obvious, Breaking Bad reference, the movie was all about diversity. I'm not trying to look into it more than I should, although that is something I do frequently... The movie had a nice message of accepting others even though they were different. We see a rabbit befriending the epitome of a barnyard predator: the sly and cunning fox. This is possible because the live in Zootopia, a city where predators and prey live with one another.

     I'm only going to say things that are in the trailer, but the plot of the story is that some predators are resorting back to their savage ways and going crazy, which is pretty controversial since not all predators are going savage, but ONLY predators are changing. Let's look at this as if it were real life. Say America is only 10% immigrants, and 20 of those people become serial killers. Though only immigrants have become serial killers, everyone else in America are safe, average joes that are scared of being killed. What would happen to the country? Some people would turn on each other and life would become fragile from the thin line of aggressive tension, because diversity is uncomfortable for some people.

     Using history as an example, people everywhere in the world have tried and failed to "correct" diversity. Thankfully, in this day and age, we can live in a somewhat peaceful world. I mean, I can't really talk, I'm a caucasian asian, with only a quarter of minority in me. Based on what horrifying past we have, we've been making progress. Obviously, there will always be people who think they're part of the master race. They, in my opinion, are wrong. We were all created and loved by God, no matter what race, religion, or gender we are.

You hear of all the problems that can come from doing laundry. You see TV shows where rich, spoiled brats do their own laundry for the first time in their lives and everything comes out pink. You feel the warmth of clothes on the skin after they were dried. You taste the moisture vapor that rushes out of the washer when you open it's door. You smell the sweet and comforting scent of detergent. The five senses of laundry, you can get them however way you do laundry. For me? I just put it all in there. Yes, I know that you can turn your whites into colors and your colors into lighter colors, BUT it's efficient and it saves me some money. Together is just more beneficial.

Take A Deep Breath

     I just read a very boring chapter in my anatomy book about the "special senses." One of these senses is olfaction, or smell. When you smell, odorants dissolve in your mucus and are transported to your brain. So actual molecules from the object go into your body, just think of that the next time you go inside a public bathroom. These molecules go into your limbic system, which controls your emotions, so naturally you'll feel hungry when you smell delicious food, or disgusted when you smell something gross.

     A couple nights ago, I went to a friend's house because we are both on spring break and haven't seen each other in an amount of time that just seems too long. I walked into his house that just smelled so clean. They're showing their house for sale, so it needs to be in tip-top shape. It was that smell that's kind of similar to new shoes or a new car. I immediately started to feel welcomed. We started out like all young, free men do: playing some video games, until Anthony got a text from one of our UMF friends. She wanted to see us and hang out, so we left. We went out to the car, and headed to downtown Farmington. As soon as I got out of the car, I got a big whiff of the old town. It smelled of old buildings and nature, but not the gross, sweaty nature. It was that sweet smell that you get if you go into Maine from a big-city state. It made me really feel like I was going to slap on some kinvaras and go for a run. Anthony and I walked to her dorm and she let us in. Instantly, I was attacked with the smell of moth balls. I don't think the dorms at UMF have been redone since they were first made. We walked up the stairs and into her dorm, which was like walking through the make-up section of a mall. There were three girls in total and I think they might've used enough perfume for four.

     We talked for a while, and I couldn't tell if Anthony was feeling it, but it was a little uncomfortable for me. These college girls were very noticeably intoxicated from the various alcohols on their desk, except for one girl who is allergic to ethanol. They wanted to go out to this apartment that was probably filed to the brim with alter-minded college kids. First, though, we had to pick up some other people. We walked to this guy's house on a nearby street. As I walked in, I just got the biggest feeling of awkwardness mixed with nervousness because this place reeked of cigarettes. We were there for a total of three seconds and left for the apartment.

     The apartment complex door opened with the rush of townies trying to get in. Walking up those stained-carpeted stairs, I wanted to leave. Anthony and I kept exchanging "lets run away now" looks, but never acted upon those glares. Once we were at the top, I got the instant smell of just pure dirty, disgusting, unwashed ass. We walked through the hallway that was riddled with red solo cups and brown stains until we got into an individual's home. It smelled of beer. Beer and sweat were the only things you could smell in this whole apartment. We stood in the same corner for about two hours just taking everything in and messing with the drunkards, but then another law was broken in that apartment. A sudden odor of weed came over the room and we were taken under a cloud of smoke. I felt so out of place. Thankfully, we decided to leave at that point. Rushing through the crowd and down the moldy stairs, we couldn't get out of there quicker. The door to freedom swung open and the cold outside air filled my lungs. I felt safe. Safe from the disturbing cloud that seems to always surround Farmington. We walked back and drove home. When I got to my house, I walked up the stairs and dropped into my bed. One day of spring break done, and my pillow smelled like sweet dreams.

We Laugh Indoors

Marcus Lech: winner of the Millrose Games, 1:46 800m, and 4:00 mile. A legend and my coach.

     A bizarre man of many, Mark loves that we fear him. Our fearless leader has only two emotions: laughter and anger. Yesterday, I took a deep breath and walked into his office to talk to him about running. I walked in expecting him to not let me run the 1500m in outdoor and walked out as a 1500m runner. This was probably one of the best five minutes of my life.

     Its times like these that make me feel on top of the world. I walked out of his office with a big grin on my face to give my friends who were waiting an answer. Mark was gracious, and I don't know if this was also from killing the anatomy exam, but I am feeling good. After feeling like a total useless sack of bean bag pebbles just 24 hours beforehand. Does that make me bipolar? NO it doesn't. 

     I just don't get what the premises for being happy have to be. Why're we only happy when God is overly generous to us? Our biggest flaw is our ungratefulness, and it shows. I am a great example. I am so peeved at God when I don't do well in races after hours upon hours of training, while he is focusing on other parts of my life. I have a beautiful family, wonderful friends, and a very privileged life, so why am I always so angry at God?

     Maybe it's because deep down I know that I'm not doing my part in our relationship. Maybe I know, truly, that I don't give God the attention he deserves. What is there to do about this though? Nothing but pray. I hope that people in my similar situation can just sit down and focus on the Lord. That's exactly what everyone needs. Are you angry and unhappy? Go to God. Are you depressed and want to punch someone? Go to God. Are you happy and don't think anything in your life could go any more right? Still, go to God. In the book I'm reading, a man becomes a serial killer because he lost his sister. He becomes this monster because he is angry at God and wants to take his place and "play God" as the authority of life and death. Poor guy was fixated on hating God when he should've been asking for guidance.

Ivory Lines Lead

     Gibbard You Silver-Tongued Devil. It's a common known fact that Ben Gibbard, lead singer of Death Cab For Cutie, is a panty dropper. The eloquent way he strings lyrics together and his soothing man voice is enough for anyone to get googly eyes. My personal favorite is Lightness. A song about... Well its all up to interpretation isn't it? I, a man not even two decades old, cannot tell anyone what to think. I love that about poetry. It's all about what we perceive. What we want. What gets us hooked. Gibbard knows how to do this in a way that is expressed from indie punk to softcore acoustic to modern hipster. He is a Master.

     I just want to look at his song Lightness. This is a beautiful song. Gibbard is always writing about his love life, whether its going well or drowning in a toilet.

The first verse:

There's a tear in the fabric of your favorite dress

And I'm sneaking glances

Looking for patterns in the static

They start to make sense the longer I'm at it

     Now obviously he's talking about seeing past a woman's dress, although, I don't think he's talking in a perverted sense. I think that he saying that he is seeing past this woman's physical appearance and into her. Saying that he loves this person. When he talks about the "patterns" I think that Gibbard means that he doesn't really understand why he likes this person until he really thinks about it. You can't find a pattern in static. Static is a jumbled randomness that doesn't have any sort of direction, but the longer you look at static, you can find a shape (just like with clouds).

Second verse:

Your heart is a river that flows from your chest

Through every organ

Your brain is the dam

And I am the fish who can't reach the core

     The woman in this song is a loving person, very open to Gibbard, but there is something that's holding her back. Gibbard describes himself as a "fish" that can't seem to get into her mind. It sounds like he can get her to like him and be interested, but he can't get her to love him and commit to him. She thinks about things too much and needs to just accept her feelings for Gibbard. Something is holding her back from him.

Third and fourth verse:

Oh, instincts are misleading

You shouldn't think what you're feeling

They don't tell you what you know you should want

     This is all about the difference of the head and the heart. The difference between what you think you should want and what you want. I think Gibbard really touches that point that there is a fine line between what you want and what you actually should want. Gibbard is saying that, when it comes to love, you shouldn't go off of what you think is right. You should go off of what you feel is right.

     There really is a fine line between what your head knows and what your heart knows, metaphorically of course. Trust me, I know where the limbic system (emotions) is. Its my major. I agree with Gibbard though. When it comes to caring about someone, it doesn't have to make sense because if you truly care about them, then it will eventually make sense. When two people care about each other and don't have the same beliefs; I've seen those relationships work out. You don't have to believe in the same thing as much as you have to believe in each other. Obviously, yes, it would be harder, but what relationship isn't hard in itself. I'd say, "put up the fists," but in a loving and caring way. Yeah that makes sense. Oh who cares! It's love and I'm 18! Nothing of that importance makes sense to me yet.

Better Luck Next Time Loser

There are good days and there are drop out days. Yesterday, was a drop out day.

     It was supposed to be the trip of the season, finally I can go to the America East Conference Championships for collegiate indoor track. Wow I was excited. My achilles was starting to feel better and I was ready to score some points for good ol' Umaine. Though I was in for a big surprise after my warm up to find that my spikes were missing. The one thing a racer needs is their shoes. I. Did. Not. Have. My. Shoes. I frantically searched for them; going through everyone's bags and throwing everyone's things aside, although I was destined to never find them. I ended up borrowing a fellow teammate's shoes. These shoes were a size too small and very narrow, they hurt my achilles so much. So, even before the race, I was doomed. The nerves started kicking in and I wanted to throw up. This was supposed to be the race of my season. I was finally going to break 8:40 in the 3k, a time I would be very satisfied with.

     We went up to the line as my teammate yelled, "those spikes have magic in them." It was supposed to get my spirits up, but it just reminded me that I was probably not going to do as well as I thought. Adrenaline rushed my body as we lined up to the start and waited for the gun to go off. Standing there, kneeled down in a starting position, I prayed that I would be able to finish and do well despite every obstacle that suddenly came my way. Looking straight ahead, my heart beat slowed, then BANG. The gun went off, and a sudden jolt of anger and excitement came over me. The shoes felt fine. I felt fine. It was time to crush a race, though as soon as I hit three laps into it, I started feeling the squeeze from the shoes on my achilles. The pain was awful, especially since I knew with every step I was making everything worse. Of course, just my luck.

     I dropped out. Ran onto the inside of the track. One of the most humiliating things that I've ever done. I wanted to hang on, I wanted to just finish. Why couldn't I just finish and accept my time? A question that I still ask myself. Sometimes, I just feel like a failure. I told my parents that the race wouldn't be worth driving 7 hours and seeing, the sad part: I was right. This was such a disappointing race. My coach must be upset with me. He must think that I'm a failure. Today, a friend who saw the race gave me a hug and said that they were sorry. I hate that. Everyone either thinks that you are a faker or they think that you need sympathy. Really I just want to forget everything. So why can't I stop thinking about everything that happened last night?

Il Monstro

     I've been reading the Hannibal Lecter series by Thomas Harris for a while now; its a horrifying truth. This cannibal is a genius and a murderer. What I get out of it is the way that they describe him. I think one of the biggest themes in the books are what to call Hannibal. He's categorized as a psychopath, but he doesn't seem to show any signs of being one besides killing people. A psychopath is someone who is unstable and very aggressive. Hannibal may be aggressive, but only slightly. He's also very stable, always holding himself up and being the most proper person in the room. I don't think he's a psychopath. I think he's something much worse.

     In The Red Dragon, Will Graham, a FBI investigator, describes him as a monster. The worst form of evil. Hannibal The Cannibal is a perfectly sane person that commits the most evil of crimes. The idea of them asking for his help on cases is bewildering to me. He never truly helps, all he does is make the FBI agents think harder. Sometimes he even makes things worse. No. Hannibal is not to be trifled with. He is actually the most evil that anyone could be, but under all that evil and killing, there lies a lonely man. Family killed when he was young and was force fed his own sister. Some can see why he became what he became. Then he met Will Graham, a man that was chasing after him, and when Hannibal was in jail, sought him out to ask him for help. He fell in love with Will Graham. Then Graham left for good and Clarice Starling came into the doctor's life. Starling was a beginner and Hannibal quickly figured it out. He got her to confide in him the reason why she became an FBI investigator. He fell in love with her too. More so than Graham because he couldn't kill her. Lecter is just an evil lonely man.

     Throughout Harris' books, the main goal is to catch a serial killer with the help of Hannibal because he was caught years ago and is being help in a mental facility. The books go through two stories in each book. One story is about an FBI investigator trying to find the culprit, and the second story is about the killers themselves. This gives the readers an inside scoop on what's going on in the killers' minds, so not only are these books thrilling, they're pretty sad too. The ending of The Silence Of The Lambs was very emotional for me, and that feels weird since the books are thrillers. I like Harris' style of writing because it's not just a plot-based book. It's a book about thinking, literally too because its about psychopaths, though I think that the story is about the idea of evil. We think of evil as this category that is completely a fantasy. When we think of evil, we think of the bad guys in books or movies, but its so real. Anyone is capable of evil, not just the mentally challenged. It can be in a proper man such as Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

     

The Abled Disabled

     DIS 300 is a course that I'm in that is about the study of innovations made for the disabled community. Now this is a three hour class that meets once a week, I get so bored most of the time, but last class we talked about amputees and what science and engineering have done to help out. It's really interesting to see how science has progressed in the disabled area. We went from not being able to help out to being able to give these people their lives back. Honestly, some of the stories I've heard are pretty heartwarming. We live in an amazing time, and the technology can only get better.

     TED is a show where you can see a variety of things, whether they are super boring or super interesting, TED's got it. So, in my lecture, we were shown this episode where this guy named Hugh Herr. He is an american rock climber who lost his legs in an accident. His team was stranded on a mountain and his legs attained frostbite. So he became an amputee himself.I'm not sure if he was a professor before this accident or after, but he was a professor for MIT. I won't spoil the video because its a really good video to watch.

     If you didn't at least start to tear up while watching that, then you're actually heartless. When the dancing starts... its just all really heartwarming. It makes you want to be a part of the whole operation. A part of something so big it can change someone's future. Isn't that really what we should be doing anyway? Helping each other? We live in a world where even amputees can participate in the rigorous activities of everyday hobbies. What's next though? Are we going to be able to create tissue and rebuild a leg? Are we going to actually improve the human race for the better. Can we as a species do the exact opposite of extinction through the ideas in or minds? I believe that we can, especially after the things that I've seen already done.

Goblin - Issue 4 "We Looked Like Giants"

     The summer before my first year at college, I wanted to experience it all. I hadn't gotten drunk or gotten laid, and after graduation from high school, I was feeling quite rebellious. Determination took over me to get my before-college needs out of the way. I wrote this in inspiration to the song We Looked Like Giants by Death Cab For Cutie. It's about the complex feelings of sex; car sex. At the time, I was an avid believer in sex before marriage. Sex is one of the easiest things to do, but at the same time it's so hard. *no pun intended* So it came to the last week before I left, and I had already gotten drunk. Basically running down the home-stretch trying to accomplish my goals. This my be the one I love the most.

---

     The cold, the dark, the silence. Goblin was usually asleep by now, midnight was never a popular time for hi. Sleep had become a foreign passerby that walked on and on, away from Goblin. White was gone, taken by the holy hand of the King himself. All the butterflies added up to this one sum of nothingness. This moment, in the cursed midnight, was worse than any cockroach.

     Sitting on a branch of Goblin's treehouse, he conversed with Loneliness. Once enemies, but now pals, Goblin and Loneliness talked for hours. It was tonight that Loneliness wanted to bestow Goblin with a terrible gift. Loneliness jumped from the branch and disappeared into the forest, only to come back with one person Goblin would never imagine to come: Smiles. Smiles was a beautiful creature that was so loose on what she wanted, red lipstick wherever she went. Smiles approached  the treehouse and Loneliness seemed to disappear within the confusion.

What're you doing here smiles?

Oh just looking for a bit of fun.

Goblin's hands were sweating profusely. It was so easy... Would it be better than a butterfly?

     Before Goblin knew what was happening, they were inside his treehouse. There's a moment in every similar situation when a yes-or-no decision is made, a decision made for the amazing event that everyone fantasizes about. The one moment of touch and feel that exhilarates the body with waves of love, at least that's what I've been told. The decision was yes, and the two were soon intimately learning how each other's bodies worked. Swimming in the bed sheets, Goblin wondered what led him to this moment. He wondered why the hell he would disrespect himself like this, and all that came to mind was White... and the unfair King.

     An embarrassing hour went by and the two lay to wonder about the surprising climax of their relationship, hoping the other would start the conversation. As easy as it seems to have a conversation, it's not easy talking right after the combined feeling of release and regret.

So do you want to come by tomorrow? STUPID

Smiles answered the question by leaving, and that was it.

     That was it, except that Smiles had taken a part of Goblin with her, a chunk out of his inner skin. It wasn't a noticeable scar, but, if you looked really hard, you could see the damage. That part of Goblin is gone, just like White, just like Violet. It was all gone for Goblin. He didn't know how important it was to him until it wasn't his anymore. Smiles owns that chunk of Goblin.

     A pool of thoughts flooded Goblin's mind without filter. Anger emptiness regret relief and loneliness. So much loneliness. Violet was gone. White was gone. Loneliness came back to sit beside Goblin on his midnight branch. There were no butterflies in sight. A terrible end to a wonderful summer in the forest of butterflies that contained no butterflies.

Goddamn the foul temptations

We looked like giants

Up until the regretful sensations

Trapped in the confused adolescence

---

      In the story, I blame everything on my loneliness from White, but in reality, it's my own damn fault. Of course everyone as a teenager fantasizes about sex. That one time between two people that just feels so great, though no one talks about the aftermath of sex. As young adults in college, 'hooking up' seems to be the new thing to do. Everyone tells you that's how to appreciate college to the fullest, but not a single person will tell you how the awkward feelings flood you afterwards. Personally, I hate the feeling. To this day, 6 months later, I still feel awful about it. That part of my life is gone. My first was with someone I didn't even care about. My first as with someone that didn't even care about me. Yeah of course it was fun, but passionate? Not at all. Sex is supposed to be a bond between two people in the most intimate way. A way to show true physical love, so why would you waste that on someone that won't be in your life for the long run? 

     So many questions arise: what will my future wife think, what will the girl's future husband think of me, and what if someone did this to my future wife? Sometimes we are so caught up in the moment that we forget what's in store for us later. Like if I had just waited to experience that with my wife, maybe it would have been a better experience. Maybe it wouldn't have been so awkward. Maybe I would've enjoyed it more. I won't ever know because I gave that part of my life up. Waiting is a sign of true love and patience. Patience is key. Key to everything we do. 

Find me

     One of the things that my parents expressed the most about coming to college was finding a good church to go to. Now, at this time, I was more on the impression that I was done with the whole christian thing. I really lost myself senior year, but I met someone who's first priority was God. She helped me to realize why I once thought that God was the most important thing to be in our lives. So I did search for churches; the only problem was that, on the cross country team here, we have morning long run at 9 am on Sundays, and every church in the area had service during that time. I was starting to lose hope on keeping up with God, even all the christian groups I could find met during my classes or practice. Luckily, I found a website of devotions called Young Adult and College Age Bible Lessons. This site saved me. Even though I'm not experienced in teaching the word to myself, the Rock Springs Baptist Church really helped me to find a way to worship God again.

     Though there was still something missing from my faith: fellowship. Of course studying God is our time to reflect, but you still have that feeling that you can't share it with anyone. Turns out that there was a group that met every Monday night that I could go to. It was an FCA group, which is Fellowship of Christian Athletes. Fellowship is in the name! Two girls on the cross country team asked me if I wanted to go, and it was definitely one of the best decisions that I've made since coming to college. Being with everyone who believes in the same thing as you is just indescribable after thinking you'll have to do it alone. I thank God for giving me this opportunity for finding me... again. It's these little victories that let you know that He's still there looking out for you. No matter how lost you may come to be.

     The progression continued as I started to go to church with the same two girls and two other guys. We are in the middle of the search right now because we started trying out this new church. I have to give it to my parents for finding good churches. It's hard to do. I wish all churches just had a talented music group and an intelligent pastor, not just one of those attributes. I remember when we came to Maine, the search for a new church wasn't easy. We used to live in Texas, which is part of the Bible Belt, and we had this amazing church called Grace Community Presbyterian Church. The community that was in this church was so heart warming, and the music was the perfect mix of old-fashioned and modern. Her pastor was a master. He was a man that truly cared about the word and the people he told spread it to. Maine doesn't have much like that. Don't get me wrong, there are fantastic churches in Maine, but I don't think the Willinghams will find a church like the one we had. Now I'm here in college trying to find a church that satisfies our little group. Whatever we choose to do though, I know that God will be watching out for us. I know that he won't lead us from His path.

Goblin - Issue 3 "I Want To Hear What You've Got To Say"

     Well the Violet era was long, but it had to end at some point. I was pent up with so much rage at this point, and, honestly, it was helping me through track season. Finally breaking 4:30 is all because of this situation. Running was always my therapy, but I never want to go through something like this again. I wrote this at the end of everything. The story goes through our whole journey through this forest that resembles our journey of a relationship. A thing I regret though is that I never really said anything positive about the whole thing. Goblin and Violet seemed to have this really depressing time together, but that wasn't always the case. It was great at first, but that's not how I saw it towards the end. I could only remember the bad times.

---

There are many beautiful flowers in the world, there are roses, lilies, and violets. violets have a beauty that is matched with next to no other; they rise above. Though, every flower has their flaw. Some do not produce pollen, some do not grow pedals, some do not grow tall to eventually be picked. And then there are the flowers who have thorns. Violets have thorns.

     Violet was a beautiful flower and she knew it. Goblin was surprised that it was he that picked her. He would carry Violet with him wherever they wanted to go. Whether it be the forests, mountains, or valleys, they were forever together. Though, over time, Violet became harder and harder to hold, up until Goblin dropped her. He tried to pick her back up, but noticed that she was covered in thorns. Goblin looked down at his hands. They were covered in scars; scars from multiple cuts that Violet's flaw had caused.

Why have I never noticed these scars before?

Goblin, I've always had thorns. You just never noticed.

     Goblin never understood why he was so oblivious to the obvious scars on his hands. It had been too long a time for the unnerving truth to be concealed. Goblin tried to pick Violet up anyway, but now he felt the pain. Like there are nails being driven into my hand. He tried to hold on to Violet as long as he could. Goblin held on to her for another trip through the forest, but he was attacked by the two fiercest creatures in the forest: Anxiety and Loneliness. Anxiety told Goblin not to go any further. To stay still in the same exact place he was in for all eternity. Goblin eventually overcame Anxiety's grasp and continued on through the forest. Then, in a blur of events, Loneliness pounced on top of the already struggling Goblin.

You are nothing.

     Goblin did not know what to do. Loneliness had isolated him from Violet, putting her inside a hole in a tree. Goblin was surrounded by a wooden barrage of sharpened spears, if he moved, he would most certainly perish. Though Goblin knew how to fight the Loneliness, you just smile all the time. So Goblin put on his greatest fake smile and the spears disappeared. Loneliness was finally conquered. So Goblin ran to the tree holding Violet and tried to pick her up, but to no avail. Violet had even more thorns than before. Goblin's hand bled vigorously.

Tell me how to pick you up Violet. Please. Let me fix this. I can take you to get your thorns removed.

I like my thorns Goblin. You need to give up your wasted efforts. I don't care anymore.

     Goblin's hand was bleeding even more. He tried to walk away from the tree, away from Violet, but tripped and stumbled and crashed into the ground. He could not get up, so he laid there and cried. All Goblin wanted to do was pick Violet up and help her get rid of her thorns, but his efforts proved to be worthless, a waste. Violet was finally out of Goblin's reach. He didn't stand back up for months.

Another day is here and I am still alive

I say these words aloud, they speak from the inside

And every time I see you

You just walk away

I want to hear what you have got to say

---

     I based this off of the song I Want To Hear What You've Got To Say by Subways, and the last part is a direct excerpt from the song. The song has a lot of rage and I thought I would compliment it with a mellow story, but I kept the desperation. Whatever Goblin tried to do to help the relationship, Violet always turned him down. Obviously the two creatures in the forest are actual feelings I had during. I had anxiety that made me scared to break up with this girl. Stupid reasons prevented me. I didn't want to become 'the bad guy' and I didn't want there to be any hard feelings. I also didn't want it to end. Loneliness came to me because I felt so alone in this relationship. Everyone told me it was going to get better. Everyone said that 'it's just a rough patch', but I just felt so isolated. So this was my break up story. After everything, I rebounded on White. Eventually, though, it became more than a rebound. So even though all of these uncomfortable events occurred, I managed to get out lucky. Something beautiful sprouted out of a disgusting garden. It just goes to show that its true what they say: the good times outweigh the bad.

General Education

     I take a class called ENG 205; it's creative writing. This lecture is far from what I was expecting. I thought it'd be an easy course, but have a lot of work. Turns out it's an easy course with zero work. Today, we partnered up and walked around the building with our eyes closed. One partner had to close their eyes and the other had to be the guide. It was bizarre. So we did that and came back to the classroom only to be told to walk blindly again. I honestly don't get our professor. He's this tiny old man who always wears this black as night under armor beanie, and he talks like this. Usually, it's really hard not to fall asleep in his class, but today he brought up some interesting subjects. I finally understood why we kept closing our eyes.

     We talked about uncomfortableness. How, without our eyes, it's hard to be comfortable with walking around. Which is only too true. While I had my eyes closed, I was scared I was going to run into a wall or even go off a cliff (even though I knew there were no deadly cliffs in the building, I just hate high cliffs). It was uncomfortable, but at the same time it was interesting because you didn't know what was going to happen. You just had to put trust in your partner. It's like this with writing. When you have an idea, your hand doesn't know what's going to happen. It just has to trust your beautiful mind that something magnificent is going to happen, and that is pretty interesting. This Gen-Ed class is teaching us how to trust in our writing just like we trust other things in our life.

     I find that writing is so much better when improved. In high school, I would always plan what I was going to write. Have it mapped out and outlined. Always wined and dined before the real action  happens, but I've come to the conclusion that it just makes the writing process more tedious and unenjoyable. If I just start. If I just let the words from my mind write themselves, everything comes out. Planning, you'll take everything that you don't like out. Of course, when you're writing an important essay, planning helps and you should do it. Though I feel like when I sit down and write a blog, I don't want to know what I'm going to say until I type it. It just feels so raw. So, with these posts, I never know what I'm going to write or how much of it I'm going to write. I just write.

Can We Play Smash Bros?

I feel like there is always something going on.

     There are two minutes left before my alarm goes off. I had to get up early because my roommate's alarm has been going off while he just presses snooze. It's not the most enjoyable thing to happen. Though what would be the difference of when I woke up and sleeping for another 15 minutes? And there it is: my wake up call, literally. I feel like my days never stop going. I'm always on the move, doing something to either work or entertain myself. Today, I go to church, run 13 miles, read for Anatomy, go to hell work, and then come back for some more homework. I could wake up earlier I guess, but then I wouldn't be able to sleep as much. My mom is always talking about how waking up early is the best way to start your day, but I feel like sleeping is the best way to start your day. I'm always up for a good 8-9 hours. I would have to survive off of coffee if waking up at 6 am was part of my regular routine. 

     Time is filled up with routines in college. We go to class, we study, we run, we hang out, and we eat; that pretty much sums it up. My friends and I eat dinner at 5 pm every night on the dot, and then we go play the N64 in our locker room. We do that almost everyday. We don't even switch up the game we play. On a regular school day, I don't have any time to just relax, and it really effected me last semester. I now NEED to be constantly doing something or I get bored easily. I've begun to notice that this is bad. Sometimes we need to just reflect on what we're doing. Sometimes I just want to sit, maybe listen to the Vitamin String Quartet, and just not think about the many pressures of school or running. Now I could be cheesy and say that the song Lets Be Still by The Head and the Heart is the most perfect example of what we should do, but I think I'm going to take it another route. I'm going to be even cheesier and say that it is our civil duty to each other to not be so uptight about our schedules. Make them flexible. Make them rich with the activity of relaxing. It's time to seize the day, and time to make time for yourself.

Goblin - Issue Two "2000 Pounds of Pressure"

     A few weeks after I wrote Yonkers, the problems with my girlfriend were still getting worse, and I had this weird dream. I was so ashamed of this dream because I count it as committing adultery. I dreamt of this girl who I have been becoming friends with since the beginning of the year. This dream was just my fantasy bringing itself to life in my mind. Making things between Violet (my girlfriend at the time) and I harder. She has and never will know about this dream I had because this was the thing that made me realize that we would both be happier if we just broke everything off. I called this one 2000 Pounds of Pressure because that's the weight that crushes a human body. I felt as though I was the only one in the relationship that was feeling this way and that only made things worse. I felt as though my throat was constantly dropping into my stomach and it affected me greatly. My friend also made a song called 2000 Pounds of Pressure that I really enjoyed to listen to during this time. I still like listening to it because its actually really good considering his other stuff.

---

It started with a roar.

     The applause was too much. Everyone was staring, smiling. The whole mass was standing and cheering. It was too much for Goblin. I didn't do anything. Goblin didn't stand out, he stood in. Inside where it was safe. No one to see him, no one to judge him. He made his home as the understudy of the group. That is where he lived. When the show was done, everyone got up, cleaned up, and left. Everyone but Goblin. Goblin got up, laid down, and fell asleep.

     It was a blur of redgreenbluewhiteyellow. Everyone was cheering, acting like Jesus was coming down and take them into a city of clouds.It was the beginning, the beginning of a new hell. This isn't a celebration. This was a celebration. Goblin was there, Violet was there, and White was there.White was the hostess of he evening, and damn was she a good one. Her setting was amazing.With table by the garden, a giant green house with blankets to watch the color blurs, and everyone she invited. It was the perfect love celebration.

     The evening began in the garden area; sitting at the tables eating duckling stew with a pinch of salt.Goblin ate with Violet, as he did often. Eating the duckling stew watered Goblin's mouth for a bi juicy butterfly, but all Violet had were cockroaches. So he ordered some off the menu. Violet was furious.

You don't just go and buy a butterfly whenever you want Goblin!

But White is offering them...

     They ate the rest of the meal in silence. Then the event of the night came: the greenhouse. Everyone went inside and laid on the blankets spread out. The explosions started softly. Goblin looked around, he knew that this was all White's doing, but she was nowhere to be found. Excitement ran through the greenhouse, people were monkeys as they ran around enjoying the colors. They started to pick up, the sounds becoming louder. Goblin thought he saw White's shadow, but couldn't be sure. Now there were definitely supernovas in the sky, and the people were starting to act like elephants as they trampled over each other. Goblin definitely saw White this time. She was making rounds around the greenhouse.

     The party ended shortly after the roaring of the crowd. White was never involved with the celebration. She's so humble. Goblin and Violet had a great time. The party was amazing. it was a mixture of fun and torture, but somehow enjoyable. As Goblin and Violet were leaving, the Gatsby of the establishment stopped them. White asked Goblin if he would have a private word with her in her room. They walked up the spindly stairs, with Goblin almost falling. Once inside the room, White shut the door behind her, blocking the whole world out.
What did you want to talk to me about?
Goblin... I invited you here and now it's the end of the night...
     White handed Goblin a single, beautiful butterfly.

     Goblin woke up at the sound of his own screaming. A yell echoing in the empty theatre. Goblin was alone, reflecting on his own great nightmares.

It ended with a roar.

---

     My dream didn't go exactly how this went. Violet wasn't even in the dream, but I thought I would add her because I wanted to show the sort of jealousy that she got when she found out and heard a rumor that White was into me. Of course I had not started or provoked any of those feelings, but Violet blamed me. So I tried to show that through the awkward dinner. I don't know how duckling stew popped into my mind. I was just going for a raw kind of animalistic sort of dinner. I like the idea of Goblin living in this borderline fairytale because that's basically what feelings are. They're such primitive parts of our lives; so unpredictable. They open up our minds to see why we make the decisions we do. Without them, we'd be going through the motions of life, or robots if you will. My feelings towards this dream were both eye opening and devastating. Who knew that a dream about going to a New Year's party would be so insightful? 

Does Anyone Have a Warm Jacket?

     You can look outside to see the clear blue skies and crisp white ground that is winter at the University of Maine. It looks like a normal day; people are out and about, the birds are chirping, and you can see the sun. Though, you walk outside and find that it is not a normal day. Its ten degrees and the air is as dry as can be. As soon as you open up the door to this frozen hell, the snot in your nose instantly freezes, and the wind. Don't get me started on the wind. Why would I choose to go to school in a place where the weather hurts my face? Great start to the first day of spring semester classes.

     After a much needed winter break, it is time to go back to the grind and begin another set of courses meant to make me feel like I know absolutely nothing. I just came back from my anatomy lab and am currently waiting to go to creative writing. School became real again this morning. I go back into my regular routines: wake up at 6:30, do some core while my roommate Dan sleeps, get dressed, and please my grumbling tummy with cafeteria food. Yep, its good to be back. This morning, I told myself that this semester would be different. That I would get that GPA back up to a 3.0, but I tell myself hat every single year. I thought I meant it before the fall semester, but I fell back into old habits and started slacking off and procrastinating hard. Though I do need to get my act together for this spring. I want my GPA to sky rocket. So this time its going o be different. I just need to find out how to protect my mind from distractions. Just like I need to protect myself from this darned cold weather.

SOMEONE GET ME A JACKET

Goblin - Issue One 'Yonkers'

     Over the course of 2015, I was inspired by a song that would shock you. This song isn't one that would inspire someone like me per say. It's more of a song that would help people with troubled lives. Actually, it's not even that. It's not an inspiring song. This song, Yonkers, is more of a rant of this guy's inner demons coming out and why they do. Oh Tyler, the Creator. So he raps about how his inner demon, or 'goblin' is the source of his transgressions, so basically, that inspired me to write a short story that would be a representation of my life through this character named Goblin. I was going through a tough time during this point of my life. Things were going really terribly with my girlfriend at that time and I was battling some injuries from running. So much pent up anger was inside me and I let out through these words; great therapy.

---

     There was a man named Goblin. He was average height, average weight. He went through everyday life with a smile on his face, but that was just his problem: his face. It was a wretched piece of green muck. Already hard to look at, Goblin had awful breath. No one wanted to talk to him, but he kept walking on, just like every other self-injesting person.

     The only difference between Goblin and everyone else is that Goblin would do anything for a butterfly. He loved those juicy, succulent creatures. The feeling of them in his stomach, alone, could bring him to tears, tears of joy. So even though he would complete tasks that people wanted him to do, all they gave him were cockroaches. Now eating cockroaches is a sin in itself, but they're what causes his diseased skin and death breath. All Goblin desires in his most miserable life is one beautiful, tasty butterfly.

     In the mid afternoon on the 3rd day of March, Goblin was approached by a loving Lion. Mrs. Lion looked very worried; her tail was wagging as fast as it could and she kept looking around.

Goblin, will you please watch my weeds while I go get more water for their growth?

Well I have to go brush my teeth later, but I guess I could wait a little bit longer. How long are you thinking you'll be gone?

Oh, no longer than a day. I'll be back as soon as you can say growth. Just be here tomorrow so I can pick up my babies.

Alright, sounds good. Your weeds are safe with me Mrs. Lion!

     So Goblin watched the weeds. They weren't the easiest to watch, with all their crying and whining for water. Goblin tried to provide them with some of his own, but they cried even harder for Mrs. Lion's precious water. So the crying and whining persisted into the long night. Goblin was relieved because it was finally time to take them to the spot. Though, when he reached the drop off zone, all he saw was a note that read in red. scribbly ink: "They were out of water, need to go back for more. Tell my babies I love them! Goblin's relief was gone. He had to watch Mrs. Lion's weeds yet another day, and, worse, he wasn't able to wash his face OR make up for brushing his teeth. I'll look like this forever, Goblin thought.

     The next day came by. Goblin, tired from a sleepless night of the weeds whining and crying, went back to the spot. Now Goblin felt real relief, for Mrs. Lion was there there carrying two jugs of water.

Hi Goblin! I hope my weeds didn't bother you at all.

No 'mam, they were as perfect as can be.

I knew my babies wouldn't cause any trouble. I bought you something for your troubles.

Mrs. Lion handed Goblin a cockroach, a big one.

Oh, thank you Mrs. Lion, but I think I'll pass.

Nonesense my boy eat that right up, it's delicious.

Goblin bit into the cockroach. It was juicy, but not like a big juicy watermelon. It was more of a creme filled egg. Goblin hated it, but he ate it anyway. It was finally time to wash his face and brush his teeth.

     Though there was one good thing about Goblin's tragic story. He had a flower that he cherished very much. The flower's name was Violet. Goblin cared for this flower, just waiting for it to bestow him with a butterfly. When he first found her, Violet would give him many butterflies, but, as the moons past, the butterflies became less and less frequent. No matter how much Goblin cared for Violet, putting her in the sunlight, butterflies started turning into cockroaches. The cockroaches started becoming more and more frequent until there were absolutely no more butterflies.

     On the 9th day of March, Goblin couldn't handle all the cockroaches. He took one look in the mirror and it cracked. Goblin was fed up. He approached Violet.

Violet, have you noticed anything different?

No, I feel everything has been the same, why?

Well you have been giving me a lot of cockroaches lately.

Goblin, that has nothing to do with me, that is your own doing.

No, cockroaches are not good for me. All I do is wash my face, brush my teeth, and provide you with the proper sunlight.

Oh, speaking of proper sunlight... Goblin... I'm feeling a bit shady right about now. Would you mind getting me some?

Are you even listening to me? My face is green Violet. Green. You know that I am hurting. Every time I put one of your cockroaches into my mouth, my face and breath get worse and worse.

Goblin, I said sunlight. Now.

Okay, okay. I'll give you your sunlight.

Goblin pushed Violet into the sunlight. She soaked it up like a sponge.

Thanks Goblin. You're the best. I don't know what I'd do without you. Here's a cockroach.

Violet, I just said I don't want anymore cockroaches.

I'm doing this for you. I want you to be happy. Please eat it.

What happened to all your butterflies Violet? I miss those so much. Why don't you give those to me anymore?

Goblin I no longer have any butterflies for you.

---

     Wow reading that again brought up some great times with my ex. Writing this all down really did help me through that. Of course, she never found out about this. This, was mine. It helped me to finally realize I had to express what I was feeling to her in person, not just through my creation of Goblin. The whole last sequence of Goblin asking about what's going wrong with Violet was premature for me. Meaning, I wrote that before I actually did that in real life. Writing that made me realize that it was actually time to talk. It helped me straighten out my mind. Feelings can fog the mind. This was a perfect example. I thought  I absolutely loved this girl only to find that she was making me miserable. I needed this therapy to reach the thoughts out of my unconscious mind and surface them to my reality.