The saddest thing about a good day, is knowing tomorrow will be worse.

Saw the kids today. I miss them already. Those kids enjoy having me around more than anyone ever enjoys having me around. Bianca got mad at me when I left. And all I could do was look at her sad face with mine, and wish her a happy new year.

Recently I've been trying to distract myself with some videogames. A few fun gatherings with friends. I've really got to start seriously looking for a job. I've decided that anything will do for now, just something to build up my cash reserves so that I can buy materials for my creative projects. Highest priorities are finalizing my resume and sending it around to school districts, completing the online training for the alternative certification program (henceforth, ACP), and making sure I'll pass the content tests I'll be taking in February.

I finished a poem this month.

what does it mean when it seems that always in dreams i see your face?
what does it signify, what can i try to get you out of my mind?
i've been analyzed, scrutinized, hypnotized, yet i can't seem to remedy this cruel love malady.
isn't it too soon to be doomed to such emotion?
this absolute devotion is driving me mad, i can't take any more.
what is love? what is it for?
will it last? will it fade?
are you the one for whom i was made?
can you see? can you feel?
this love, so desperately real?
it consumes my thoughts, controls my brain.
makes me happy, makes me insane.
makes me weak, makes me strong.
how did i live without you for so long?
again, what does it mean?
it seems, you're the girl of my dreams.

Starts off with a haphazard internal rhyme scheme, then transitions into aabb.

Took pictures of Madelyn and Vineet this last week. I feel like I've failed Madelyn as a photographer this time around. Hopefully next time I'll have a videocamera, and we can just make a video that better captures her talent than my still photography.

Santa is coming..

feel the ice crackling under your feet.
watch flakes of snow falling,
until the ivory ground they meet.
hear the children calling,
with snowballs behind their backs.
as carols are sung and bells are rung,
presents travel in great sacks,
for the stockings so carefully hung.
with houses all aglitter,
run through the fluffy slush.
the wind is sweet and bitter,
during the holiday rush.
as the cold bites at your nose,
hold close those you hold dear.
and give a hearty toast,
to the times of yesteryear.

Wrote that one a while back. I finished perusing my old online posts and compiled all the poems into a Notepad file. I ran out of free unlicensed uses of Word. A lot of bad poems, but they might still hold some useful ideas or rhymes.

I've decided that I will make a children's book. A collection of poems and stories with illustrations. Possibly some cartoons. I want to produce at least 30 poems/stories, illustrate a few, and start trying to find a publisher I can work with. Target audience will be 6-8 age group.

Just watched Avatar. You should watch it. I don't want to ruin anything, so I'll only say that the plot was intriguing and the whole thing was aesthetically pleasing.

Written on August 18, 2004

And so perhaps the world was just a mistake. One incredible blunder of the fates, slowly being corrected by our systematic deaths. Who are we to try to comprehend our purpose? What makes our stubborn minds hold on to the belief that there is a point to it all? Oh how silly we are. We who ponder that divine purpose, and do nothing that could even remotely fulfill it. Slaughter of creatures to stay alive, production of toys to derive some meager entertainment, the endless toil of jobs that accomplish nothing. Society is in an endless conundrum, trying to solve the problems that it creates. Humanity itself has become self-sufficient, in that all people depend on one another. How can we question the purpose of our futures if we do not truly desire progress, but only survival? What drives our constant fixation for a greater meaning in life? If our minds be logical, what logical reason is there? Is each invidual destined to be great, to alleviate the pain of others or create tremendous advances for the whole of the world? How important could any of us really be? Not all of us could possibly be meant for greatness. Such is not the nature of things. At best, there are only a handful of people who will ever amount to anything in every generation. The purpose of all others is to support those prodigies or create competition for them, to ensure their magnificence. So what is your purpose? To go on with your pathetic life, as we all must. Perhaps when an extroardinary being rises from the masses and saves the world from itself, you will have had a hand in securing such an accomplishment. You might have cooked the food he ordered, or drove the bus she rode, maybe even lost money to them in a game of cards. And that insignificant moment in your life, that is the reason for your existence.

And we're back

I've decided to write more. Somebody try to hold me to that.

I started visiting Camille and Bianca at their school lunches. It's fun, and their friends seem to enjoy my visits too. Camille wanted me to read a story to her class, and her teacher said that would be fine. Camille said that I could read any story, so I decided to make one up. The result was Rhyming Man, which I read to the class today. The class liked it, and I was also able to share some old simple poems I've had in memory. A Great Dream and Sleeping by the River. I'm sure these titles mean nothing to you, but I have them in my head, so if you're really curious I can give you a recitation. The teacher said I can come by anytime and read more stories. And she encouraged me to publish a book. That's something I've been intending to do, but think I still need more material before I can come up with a good compilation.

I'm trying to become a teacher. So far, I'm eligible for internship for Mathematics 4-8.. and will be taking content tests for Generalist E-6 and Art E-12 in February. Getting certification via Texas Teachers Alternative Certification Program.

I vaguely remembered some more poems that would be appropriate for Camille's first grade class.. so I was perusing my old Xanga account trying to find them. Made me miss writing. There are some things I had written years ago that I still find entertaining. Which is why I want to resume writing, though I can't say I will have much worthwhile material.. things are pretty dull these days.

If I wrote fortune cookies:
"Your faith in fortune cookies will be your downfall."

Rhyming Man

once upon a time there lived a silly man that rhymed.
and he rhymed, nearly all the time.
he couldn't stop once an idea popped into his head.
rhyming until his face turned red..
then rhyming still more, until he fell into bed.
there was no end to the rhymes he could make,
and he never stopped, for rhyming's sake.
oh! the absurd words that he would say!
every day he found new ways to play.
because the fun of words lasts forever,
and he would never ever stop rhyming, because he liked nothing better.
he loved words more than breath, more than life.
and he would never tell her, but he loved words more than his wife.
you could probably find in his mind every possible rhyme there ever could be.
but he would say with great dismay, that there are still more rhymes to see.
for you could rhyme one word against two:
you could rhyme dismay this way and his ways of saying it were entertaining too.
whether nonsense or profound, the sounds of his rhymes were always a joy to hear.
girls and boys came from near and far, by plane and by car, to see this rhyming superstar.
but one sad day, he finally lost his voice.
don't be mad at him, it wasn't his choice.
because he couldn't rhyme, i started rhyming too.
and you should also start rhyming, because it's so fun to do.