The Last Flower

Cleaning out my house during the last few days of break, I discovered this poem I apparently wrote on April 4th, 2003 for American Studies Period 8/9:

The Last Flower

Disappeared from the Earth
... the last flower was dying
Together the young man and the girl nurtured the flower and it began to live again
Love was reborn into the world
Towns, cities, and villages sprang up.
Songs came back into the world
So presently the world was at war again
This time the destruction was so complete that nothing at all was left in the world.

Except...

The Last Flower

~~

I think I spent half an hour laughing like crazy... what terrible BS I came up with for that class. It's presented in the form of a poster, too: each verse is written on a "petal," which has my very own illustrations of every scene. See:



I don't write creatively that often anymore, but this just goes to show that you can't force your muse.

veronica mars

i freaking love that show. to the point of wasting hours watching the episodes. just gotta love the wit of v. mars. i wish i could be that cool.
i don't know what i'm going to do once i finish the third season. probably go back to gossip girl. it's kind of sad that i get into bands because i've listened to their songs on these cw shows. like the dandy warhols -- "a long time ago" is the theme to v. mars. it's just not as cool to say "oh, i heard of these guys from a tv show." oh well, at least it's better than "i heard of you guys from guitar hero" (it happens more than you'd think...).

on another note: who wears eye makeup before going to bed? v. mars, apparently -- season 3, ep 3.

2009. I feel old.

Yikes, another year. This is really freaky, because on some levels I don't feel much older at all.
But I guess I do look older and (maybe) act older. For example, today I went out to dinner with my parents, and I saw a couple who were maybe a little older than my parents sitting at a table near us. I pointed them out to my parents as a very romantic pair.

We ended up leaving at the same time, and the woman was standing in front of the coat rack. She excused herself and moved aside to get my coat. Normally, this would be the end of the story. Except the woman and man made small talk with me about the weather and things like that. Sure, you could chalk my bizarre feelings to those of a girl who's too caught up in the Parisian way, in which la conversation is an art and one does not engage in it for a few seconds with strangers. Yet I prefer to see it as a kind of acknowledgment that I'm on their level... I mean, if I were in high school, they would not have talked to me the same way, right?

EDIT: a day later, re-reading this makes me feel kind of stupid. So what if I can make polite conversation with other people; doing so maybe says more for my sociability skills than anything else. On the other hand, lately I've had this gnawing feeling of getting old... and it's really sad.