Lines, I say! Lines!

I am obsessed with lines! I see them everywhere. They're in the park, they're in my apartment, they're on people's bodies- their faces, their torsos, their legs- they're on cars-I see them everywhere!

I don't know how it started or, where it came from. One day it just occurred to me that lines were everywhere and that I was completely enamoured with them.
It does my heart a great service to see a clean line somewhere. To look upon the face of someone and trace the lines of their impressive jawline with my eyes, to slowly drag my vision across their sharply cut bone structure, is to me the very personification of enjoying a thing of beauty,
To tilt back my head and stare into the Heavens as an ascending line of a building, or the curvature of a flower, or the sleek dip of a car, draws me to it's apex in any manner it saw fit is an hour well spent.
If you ask me, we don't do that as much anymore. We don't take the time to enjoy what we see around us. We always expect beauty to be obvious, to stand out, or stick out in a crowd.
Well, some do but, others we have to look for (and hopefully not too hard).
Like the lines in a person's face, how smooth they look... If seen at a different angle they could be other-worldly, like an alien from outer space, completely foreign to you.
That is what I love about lines,They take you places!
They show you a world that you've never seen, a world that's right in front of you.
Along with your trusty camera they pull down the veil before your eyes and expose what you've been missing this whole time.
If you follow any particular line it could take you anywhere.

Rewrite, Take #357...

Have you ever rewritten a story, edited it back to front, cut and pasted it till your heart bled, shifted and rearranged everything, only to go back to the very beginning you deleted and work with what you started with? Well, this is where I am in my story writing process at the moment. And, I have to say, it is frustrating as Hell, as all get out! I don't remember it being so hard... At present I am trying to write something for a friend but I am having a very hard time getting anywhere with the story. I feel as if the more I write the farther away I'm getting to the story. Maybe, because it's her story. I suppose that if it were mine I would be more invested in it, I would feel it more. A frightening thought just occurred to me, what if I'm not supposed to be a writer? What if all I am is a person who writes, never getting published? What if that is all I get in life? Would that suffice for me? Is it okay to be a writer only for yourself? To write just for the sake of getting the words out? Would that do it as a life, as a writing life? The worst thing in the world to me is to want something I can't have, to spend my life chasing something I will never get. To me that's a wasted life but, of course, the paradox of that is that if I don't chase after something I will never know if I will get it or not. I really don't remember writing being so hard for me... I re,ember it coming with so much more fluidity than I'm experiencing now. It was almost effortless for me to write back in the day but, now, I find that I struggle more than I should... It's depleting my confidence daily, by every second of the day I feel myself loosing more and more of my ability to write and it fills me with a deathly dread that no corpse could recover or come back from. Maybe I waited too long... That seems to be the story of my life, the running theme through my existence: always late to the party and, never the first to leave. What if I can't write for someone else, what if I can only write for myself? Would that be so wrong? Is it a requirement for being a writer that I have to write for everybody else? I wish I had all the answers in this plight that I'm suffering through. But, until that day happens I guess I will have to be content with the questions, for they give me hope that all is not totally, and completely lost. May they never stop coming.

Day #2

With every new angry word I can feel myself getting farther and farther away from the person I want to be. I wanted to be a person people could be proud of, a person someone would want to be with, date, get married to. I wanted to be a person of worth. But, the ire of whatever it was I was so disturbed about prevents me from becoming that. It sits in my chest like a molten stone, ready to set fire to my soul and the rest of me at any moment, like a chemical bomb. I can feel it's poison coursing through my veins and arteries like slow moving magma of the worst kind of sludge. Nothing good can come from something like this, someone like this. No matter what I do it never feels good. It always feels bad and, leaves a taste in my mouth like melted mercury. In the middle of the worst of it I never feel I'm in control. I always feel like my brain has been taken over by some tiny, yet powerful, micro organism that seems to be able to run my mouth as if it were it's own, getting me into more and more, considerable trouble at will. I long for a magic pill or button that could help me to take over my body when I need it the most. But, apparently, we're not there yet... This is where I am now, at home, in my room stewing over having told my parents to go and 'FUCK OFF!". The words weren't even the words I wanted to say but, at the last minute they came flying out of my mouth as if a missile were after them. Now, I'm afraid to even leave my room. What could I say to them?! How could I look them in the eyes ever again?! The truth is, I love my parents but sometimes I wonder if they even care for me. They do stupid things like punish me for the most mundane things (like nobody ever set fire to the car before? Dad did that last weekend, I don't see him being banned from watching Sports Center!), make me do things that embarras me (really?! I have to wear that- out in public?! My friends go there!), take away the one thing I cherish the most in all the world (I think, if it came down to it, if our house were in any kind of danger I would run back inside and save my books rather my parents. Cold, I know, but those books saved and continue to save my life). Sometimes I don't think my family knows me. If they did they wouldn't try to hurt me by making me miserable. At my worst I could almost see them downstairs at the dinner table, spitefully laughing their heads off about how hurt or upset I am. The bastards! I don't know how to rectify this. I don't know where to begin... Wait a minute, why do I have to be the one to say i'm sorry?! Maybe they caused this, maybe they asked for this?! ...Yeah, I'm not buying it either... All pride and humiliation aside, I made a mess of things, this is my fault and I have to fix it. I need to go down there, when I'm ready, and say I'm sorry and take my punishment like an adult, (no matter how far away yet that pipe dream seems). But, not yet... I still need to stew some more, Petty, I know, but, good or bad, I have some things I need to think about. Like where am I going to live, cause if this goes belly up I sure as Hell can't stay here. I tried calling my aunt but she only took their side. She always takes their side. It's like she's trying to curry favor with them or something, which is so incredibly ridiculous! What is she worried about- she's already family for Godsake! What more does she want, how much more deeper in this family does she want or need to be?!! It's amazing, I'm the one who needs allies and for what ever reason I can't seem to find any here. Okay, let's go. After closing my computer I push myself away from my desk and head for the door. As I turn the knob and walk into the hallway I can her the T.V downstairs. Sports Center is on and from the noise dad's making it sounds like his team just scored. Mom mustn't be too far from him. She loves sports just as much as he does, they met at a hockey game, after all. The walk downstairs takes longer than I thought. I blame it on the shag carpet on the staircase. it must be tripping me up, slowing me down somehow... Finally, living room. "Hey," I say in what must be the smallest voice I've ever heard come out of my mouth. My dad turns around with a smile at first the when he sees it's me, his eyes look like they suddenly remember why they were angry at me in the first place and the smile disappears. I hear some shuffling of feet and turn my head to find my mother standing behind me wiping her hands on a dish towel, looking no happier to see me. I figure the best way to do this is just to say it so, as quickly as possible, I say, "Look, I'm real sorry I said what I did. I know I shouldn't have (even though, deep down I know I was more than justified) and... I won't let it happen again." My parents looked at each other in this real weird way then my dad said, "Well, coming from you that's damn near a soliloquy." I could hear my mom chuckle under her breath behind me. "You're not going to that party this weekend," my dad continues. "You're grounded for the next three weeks, that means no hanging out with friends, no girlfriend, after school you come straight home and go straight to your room, and definitely no cell phones, or internet unless for homework. Now, go back to your room." And, with that, he turns back to his game and my mother shuffles back to her dishes. 'Christ! ...' I thought. I suppose it could have been worse but, damn!!! On my way back to my room my legs dragged up the stairs like two lead pipes across a metal bridge and all I could think of the entire way up was 'I wonder if there's any room at Guantanamo?

Day #1

I feel like I'm cheating- this isn't even the morning! What Am I doin here?! I am all alone watching this take place before my eyes! Wait he's coming over! 'No I don't want anymore coffee, but thank you.' I say with a stupid, crappy, grin on my face. (Idiot! He saw you! ) Well, duh! Of course he saw you- he brought you coffee, remember?! What is he wearing? Ooh he looks so good in those pants! I wonder where he buys them? Or how he gets them on... (For God's sake! Focus! And ask him already!) I will! just give me a minute! Wait- why is she looking at him?! What is that girl doing looking at MY guy!? Who does she think she is!? Oh! I know her! She's that skinny bitch that hangs around class all day, pretending to take photos. Please! Everybody know that she has her boyfriend do the actual shooting. You'd think she was alergic to her camera or something. What she does is more of a delegating thing. Well, whatever it is it seems to be working for her. This is the third workshop that I've been in with her and it's the third time that she's gotten some poor bastard kicked out because they wouldn't hold her camera bag, or carry her tripod or something. Look at her long hair... all yellow and swishy. She's so pretty she coud get guys to eat their own toe jam- and like it! Hell, they might even ask for seconds! (You're stalling.) I know, I know. Maybe I'll have one more latte or maybe even another banana milkshake. (Another one of those and you're going to need an ambulance to wheel your fat ass out of here!) You know, you'er very negative. (Just trying to keep it real. Speaking of real, isn't that miss thing over there trying to get your guys number?) What!? I whipped my head around so fast I swear I must have been the first person in history to give themselves whiplash sitting at a table! What is that heifer trying to do?! That is my guy! Granted, we haven't actually met yet but, everyone in the universe knows that it's hands off when it comes to him! Why does she think I'm here every day, does she think I wolf down these milkshakes like a garbage disposal for my health!? Look at her! Does she really think those fake ass, ghetto style, Lee Press on nails are really going to impress him?! A man of that caliber and quality won't fall for such cheap tricks, he would see right through all that! Wait- what did he just put in his pocket? Did he just take her number?! What!? No way! How could he?! I knew it! That tramp! I guess that's what does it for him, long legs and cheap make-up. I mean, look at her, she looks like something Cirque Des Soliel would throw out of their big top- from the flagpole! Seriously, those breasts aren't real! No one's breasts are supposed to look like a cross between a flotation device,and space debris! And don't even get me started on those legs! She's probably not even human, her parents are probably gazelles or something! Watch out girl, I think I hear the Serengeti calling... Oh, crap! Here he comes again! (Look! It's now or never!) Okay! I'm gonna do it! ....Riiight.... Oh, too bad! He detoured to that guy in the really bad hat he thinks is covering his nappy hair. No such luck, buddy. That fro could be seen by the blind six blocks away. Hang on, before he gets here I better get my pen and paper ready. I don't want to be seen as amateurish, or come off as incompetant- Oh- you scared me! I didn't see you there! (why is my jaw hurting?) What? Oh, no, still no coffee for me- ah! Before you go I- um- I had- I mean I was- I was wondering if I could- maybe ask you a question? Great! (I think I hear the tendons in my jaw start to beg for mercy. I better stop grinning like an idiot) Umm- ah- Okay- I'm a photographer at the studio across the street- yes! The one hosting the workshop! (my face is going to freeze like this if I can't get my jaw to stop spreading like the red sea all across my face) Yes, she is amazing! I'm really lucky to get a place with her. So, um, we have a project to do, as an almost final exam for the workshop and I was wondering if you coul - I'm sorry! Let me explain. We each have to do a personal project as part of the workshop- yeah, almost like a final exam. Well, my project is portraits, and I was wondering if.. maybe- you know, if you had the time- 'cause I'm sure you're really busy, what with school and work- not that I'm stalki-following you or anything- yes, yes, maybe I should have a drink- yeah this water will do just fine... Mmm, that's really is good. Where do you guys get your water? It's great..! (more jaw numbing smiles- this is getting ridiculous! I may actually have to see a doctor after this!) So, yeah- um, where were we..? Oh, right- I- ah- was going to ask if you wanted to pose for me. (There I said it. And he's still standing. Always a good sign.) What? Oh, my project. Well, as I said, it's going to be on portraitures, specifically, male....nudes. (silence is good... right?) Hmm? How naked will you have to be? Oh, that depends on what you're comfortable with. You don't have to take off all of your clothes- well, maybe just the top- or the bottom- I'll let you decide on that. All in? What do you mean-oh! You're in! Oh that's great! (I practically fly, no really-fly- out of my seat! So far, making a great impression...) Okay, so, I'm not ready to do the project yet but when I am I will need to get in touch with you. Can I have your number? Here, put the coffe pot on the table. Sure I have a pen right here. (wow! his hair smells so good! Like a tropical island where some speedo wearing guy's feeding you fruit like you were Nero on the last days of Rome) Hey, our numbers are almost the same. (My God, his eyes are so, incredibly blue- I mean, seriously, can he even see out of those things?!) Okay, thanks. Soo, I will call you when I'm ready, and you don't have to worry, like I said you don't have to get all naked if you don't want to or feel comfortable doing. What was that? ....Yeah... I like poetry. Sure, I know that place. They're hosting that guy- what's his name- yeah him. He's supposed to be coming this Friday. Yeah... I would love to go.. (jaw going nuclear, almost half way around my head now...) Oh, well, then You're going to need my number (Well, look at you..!) Sure- I can't believe you remember me wearing that! Yes, absolutely, I'll wear that on Friday. It's my favorite jacket, you know. (Jaw just exploded. Face stuck like this forever,now.) 1227 words 750 Words.com