Hair so Brown and Eyes so Blue

Hair so Brown and Eyes so Blue
A poem dedicated to my sister

Hi there,
Little girl,
With hair so brown
And eyes so blue.

Your voice,
So tiny,
Calls out in joy
As you reach for me.

Your fist,
So small,
Is barely large enough
To hold onto my finger. 



Hi there,
Little girl,
With hair so brown
And eyes so blue.

Your steps,
So light,
Are full of delight
As you walk my way.

You stubble,
You fall,
You learn to crawl
And then to dance about. 



Hi there,
Little girl,
With hair so brown
And eyes so blue.

Your voice,
It’s raised,
As you yell out
For someone to play with.

Your hair,
So soft,
Is in two braids
As you clutch your doll. 



Hi there,
Little girl,
With hair so brown
And eyes so blue.

You gulp,
You’re nervous,
You’re afraid of night
For next will come day.

You hold,
That violin,
So delicately in hands
That are shaking with fright. 



Hi there,
Little girl,
With hair so brown
And eyes so blue.

You pack,
Many bags,
Give your friends hugs
And ready for an adventure.

You leave,
With tears,
But face the world
With a mask of strength. 



Hi there,
Little girl,
With hair so brown
And eyes so blue.

You’ve come,
So far,
Along this long road
That is your lovely life.

You’ve grown,
You’ve changed,
You’ve learned the game
And are reaching another door. 



Hi there,
Little girl,
With hair so brown
And eyes so blue.

Very soon,
Too soon,
You will be graduated
And on your way again.

You’ll learn,
To crawl,
To walk and run
And even who you are. 


Hi there,
Little girl,
With hair so brown
And eyes so blue.

I am,
So very,
Very proud of you
And who you have become.

A joy,
It’s been,
To be your sister
As you’ve paved your way. 



Hi there,
Little girl,
With hair so brown
And eyes so blue.

Please remember,
Don’t forget,
Where ever life leads
I will always love you.  

Room 119

The following is a short story I wrote about my second home on campus, Room 119 of the Smith building. I spend more time in that room than anywhere else on campus and some of the most wonderful things take place in that room...some of the most thought provoking conversations. 

Room 119

            In a red-bricked building there are many rooms, but room 119 is one of the smallest. With walls as pale as week old snow and a ceiling with a thousand holes, it looks like nothing special. There’s no shine to it. No lustrous sparkle that makes it stand apart from the other rooms.

            119’s Once blue carpet is stained with the mud of many shoes. There’s no carpet cleaner brave enough to take on the armies of filth camping in the carpet’s hard fibers. Each day new armies are carried through the groaning old man of a door and are deposited upon the carpet. Vacuums attack it nightly, yet the original blue is still dusty.

            The chairs that sit in orderly lines are not the most uncomfortable in the building but they aren’t anything you’d want to sit in for more than a class period. Their desks are heavy, but bend under the weight of books. Their legs sturdy, but scars mark their silver surfaces. The fabric that covers the cushions is a purple too close to red to be violet, but too close to purple to be maroon. Blue and tan threads are visible within the fabric. Words are etched into the slate grey tops of the small desks. Some of the words have lines drawn through them, the dark ink from the pen used to carve them is still present in the depths of the lines.

            

            White boards cover the walls. Their surfaces cleaner than the ones they reest on, their silver edges appearing dull despite having recently been installed. The smart board is the newest item in 119, yet even it is not perfect. It’s an untrustworthy piece of technology, second only to the room’s computer, that often rebels against it’s controllers.

            The windows still function properly. They open without so much as a peep and let fresh air circulate through the menopausal room. The shades, however, were just as unreliable as the technology. It wasn’t that they rebelled, they just could no longer do their job properly. They weren’t as flexible as they once were; their bodies could only cover the windows so much. Even then, they would often give out and bounce back into their original fetal position after only a few minutes of covering the windows.

            

             Yes, 119 isn’t the prettiest of rooms, yet English students flock to it like eager grandchildren to their favorite grandparent. Backpacks are thrown at the feet of the chairs, books –heavy with knowledge –are piled upon the desks. The students don’t think twice about entrusting the weight of their books to the desks. Unlike the technology, the desks have never failed them. And, when the students take their seats, the room smiles.

            

             Those who know its worth, those who know each and every character in the room, those who have read beneath the flickering lights, have peered out its windows at lawnmowers and butterflies, have argued with the smart board, out smarted the computer, and cleansed the boards, have returned home.

            The room glows with beauty as its frequenters speak. Their colorful thoughts giving 119 the breath of purpose. 123 may be bigger, 200 over twice its size, 201 may have better chairs, and the room next to it may be the prettiest, but 119 has a special place in the hearts of its students. It’s beauty is as bright as a new penny to them. It’s beauty is immortal. 

The Shadow, Irritations, and How Today Was Great.

At eight am this morning I awoke with zero motivation. I contemplated skipping my first class just so I could catch an extra hour of sleep, what with me staying up until four the night before. Sadly, I hadn't stayed up because of some large Superbowl party that had lasted long into the night, but to do homework for the upcoming Monday. I detest Mondays. There is just something awful about them. Yet, as I reasoned with myself this morning, saying that skipping class was fine in order to get some more sleep, my inner voice decided to speak up and remind me of all the reasons why skipping class would be a bad idea.

"You'll miss important notes. You'll ruin your attempt at the extra credit for perfect attendance. You'll kick yourself later if you skip. You'll feel guilty all day. An hour of sleep isn't worth having to go through the trouble of locating reliable people to find out what happened in class. Besides, you don't have this class on Friday. You can sleep in then."

Needless to say, my inner voice won. Leaving me to the task of prying myself from the warmth of my blankets and dragging my sleep heavy  body down the ladder of the bunk bed I slept in. I wasn't too happy about leaving behind the warm plush blanket and black comforter as the cold encroached on my personal space. It was no use fighting the cold off, really it wasn't. No mater if I threw a hoodie on or my warmest coat I would still be cold during the walk from the building I reside in to the one my class was in.

When I got to class, however, I was pleased to be there. Not at first, but I did get there. As my professor droned on about a subject I have no interest in but must take (and pass) in order to graduate, I entertained myself by staring down at my notes and thinking over the day's schedule. My attention was drawn back to my professor, however, when he quoted Leroy Brownlow, saying, "There are times when silence has the loudest voice."

I can't even tell you why I liked that quote, but I did. I felt drawn to it, like it was some beautiful truth that I had never heard before. I didn't take much time to ponder over it, merely jotted it down in my notes and attempted to stay awake for the rest of the class. Staying awake wasn't really too hard, for the professor is an energetic speaker who has a way with words, but the content of his lecture wasn't something I cared to be listening to this morning.

As the day went on, I went about my Monday routine. Unfortuantly, I had a shadow of negativity tagging along with me for parts of it. This shadow, which was really a person, kept bringing me down. It brought up negatives about others, it contradicted everything I would say, it used a nickname that I absolutely hate, and then it lectured me on a topic that it had no right to...not that it should have been doing any of the negative activity. That topic, however, was a sore one for me. It's one that I absolutely hate hearing about...I say hearing because I never talk when it is brought up. It's better to stay silent if you have nothing good to say, right? Well, I have nothing good to say to anyone who starts lecturing me on my own eating habits. I have reasons for this that lay in the past and that I won't get into, but allow me to clear something up for anyone reading this.

If I know you, and you are reading this, here are two facts about my eating habits that you should know:

1) I'm not anorexic, don't even joke about me being that. I swear if you tell me I'm not eating enough I will be ticked at you for a decent amount of time. This is one of the few things that makes me livid and can keep me simmering for a while.

2) Don't ever tell me I'm eating too much, especially in the fruit and cheese category. I have a reason for eating the way I do. I'm hypoglycemic (not severely were I have to use insulin  but enough where I have to keep a large amount of sugar in my system) and when I eat a lot of fruits and cheese it's because I require the healthy sugars I get from them. They are the quickest way to get sugar into my system.

With those two things cleared up, allow me to continue. This post is not meant to be a rant about life, for I am pretty happy with my life. It is merely meant to be an update on my life. Now, let's continue...shall we?        

As the day went on, I decided to ignore the shadow. I busied myself with assigned readings and getting ready for my night class. I was barely on the internet throughout the daylight hours, instead spending my free time working on assigned readings, taking walks on a trail that runs around the campus, and having a much needed conversation with my amazing mother.

When the time for my night class came, I was ready. A three hour class with my favorite professor, and it's all about literature. I loved the time spent in the class. Though I didn't talk much in it, I enjoyed it. I'm more of a listener than a speaker in classes. I like hearing my fellow classmates' thoughts and, occasionally  throwing in one of my own. Listening to their individual ideas helps me with developing characters for my stories.

It is now 10:03 at night and I have accomplished everything I needed to today. Despite the facts that the shadow irritated me and that I got off to a rough start this morning, today has been glorious. I've stuck to my latest attempt at a health kick, am drinking my first Mountain Dew of the day, and feel overall pleased with where I am in life.

Today was a good day. God kept me safe, silent, and grateful through out all of today's hardships. I am thankful for that and praying the same occurs tomorrow. I