It was all Just a Dream

The day I met you and you said, "Hi".
The first time you ever looked into my eyes.
I couldn't believe this was happening to me,
But then I woke and realized, it was was all just a dream.

Whenever I saw you my stomach would flip.
When I heard your voice I'd stumble and trip.
No one knew it, but you looked at me.
I woke up and realized, it was all just a dream.

I would wait for you to walk by,
Waiting for the chance to say "hi"
Then one day you came and gave a kiss to me,
But I woke and realized, it was all just a dream.

Wayward Soldier (What we did in class on Monday Nov 17. This is what I came up with.)

But in the midst of their nightmarish crossing of this region
Hope still shone through the darkness.
Rather casually he scooped up four new crustaceans
And threw them on the grill.
He carried his gun through moss covered trenches
and shot down any enemy that crossed his path.
An eerie arrangement of buffalo and human skulls placed around slender stakes
Surrounds the field where the heard grazes.
His face was caked with mud
And his hands were dripping with blood.
The number of people ha had killed were many
and his wife would not be happy.
Triumphantly discovering a new whippoorwill
He was able to take leave.
He set his eyes on the homeward horizon.
The day had come at last.

Think?

How do people think? It's a weird concept. We have this thought process, and yet, we only use 10% of our brains? How are we supposed to develope our potential, if we can't even use all of our brain? If we could use more than 10% of our mental capabilities, shit, we could do what Criss Angel does. That's how he gets into people heads, he has accessed more than 10% of his brain. Think of all the geniuses we'd have running around, hell, we might even find a way to stop global warming.
Think of all the great scientists. Einstein for one. People thought he was crazy. Was he? No. He had just accesssed more than 10% of his brain, and I'm sure more could have been unlocked.
I mean, sure, not everyone can unlock that other 80%, but they can try. Some who do, drive themselves mad, others become great scientists, or like Criss Angel.
Think about it people. Think about how you think.

The Second Hand Ticks Slowly On

Time Passes.
It passes slowly, and it passes rapidly.
Life seems to go by slowly most of the time.
Only moving faster when danger is around, or if something forces adrenaline to take over.
Life passes so many people by as the walk along, worrying about how to get through the day, and how they will support their familes.
People never take the time to do fun things with their familes, and when they do, they fight.
Every minute ticks by as people think about how to make more money, and that minute of life is lost.
Every minute that is wasted worrying about things is a minute of life lost.
The clock of life ticks on, and when that clock finally stops, how will your life have been spent?
The second hand ticks slowly on.
How have you spent your life?

Freewrite from October 10, 2008

Wind whispers through the trees as the sun shines bright.
The leaves are bright reds, yellows, and oranges.
A field of trees lies beyond the campus.
Fall is in the air.
People walk by the library, and it’s a scene of serenity.
Mountains lay beyond the church in the distance.
Home, the mountains are my home.
I can hear people laughing now.
The wind blows softly again.
Ladybugs fly past us, landing on our books as they pass by.
There are very few clouds in the sky.
James yells to Ian, and Dinah has major ADD.
The feel is peaceful as people go about their business.
Gulls fly over the island, and crows caw in the distance.
Trees of bright orange towards Rushton and Heritage.
Time to Move.
The athletic fields lay in front of a sea of trees.
Trees I have walked through before.
Vehicles pass on the road, leaving for the long weekend.
The serenity of the scene is calming.
I can see glimpses of the forest trail I walk and the wind gently whispers through the trees.
Bees are collecting nectar from the clovers as a gull flies over head.
I can’t hear the class now, and I like it…. James was far too loud.
The colors of the trees remind me of an inferno, bright and blazing.
Farms lay beyond the sea of trees, and the river I know lays farther still.
Calm as it may be, not too many people like the country.
They say it’s too quiet, and too scary.
Honestly, I fear the city. It’s too noisy, and there are too many people.
I can hear the geese as they fly over, guided to the south.
The gulls fly over again as an airplane can be heard overhead.
It sounds small, just a bush plane.
The flock over a field, rising together to continue their journey and rock doves fly by.
Winds whispers through the trees, the sky is blue, and geese continue their migration.

Freewrite from September 15, 2008

I don’t really pay attention to other people as I walk. I pay more attention when I’m sitting. I’m sure people were miserable with the rain, but I like it.
My eyes are sensitive to the light, and if it is sunny with no clouds, I get horrible headaches.
The rain gives my head a break. It also makes it cooler.
Last night was weird. So windy, but still so warm. Many people were outside, because the rooms were too hot.
Nobody likes humidity and if you do, ugh! You’re not human, and ugh is all I have to say to you.
I love the rain. I love the snow. I’d rather be cold than hot. Because if you’re cold you can only get warmer. If you’re hot, there’s only so far you can go to get cool.

Freewrite From September 5, 2008

Loneliness, abandonment, betrayal.
Disdain, aggressiveness, unloved.
These are wards that come to mind at the dark sadness in the eyes of a woman.
Lust, aggressiveness, sexual longing.
These are words that come to mind as a man dressed in black lurks in the shadows.
Fear of the shadows is all over the woman’s face.
Lust, longing. The man yurns for someone to have a physical relationship with.
The woman guards herself against his evil, but will it be enough?
He looks hungry for here, for her blood.
What will he do?
Is he kind? Or is he a tyrant?
Will he be polite, or assertive?
What will become of the woman?
What will become of the man?