Oh to be the consciousness
Of a shluffed  off skin cell,
Burrowing in the ground
To be used centuries later.

To be that fallen strand of hair
That blew off with the wind--
Now part of of an animal's lair.

To be everywhere at once,
But only in one place.

I am star dust,
A bit of a star long dead
And I do not even know its name.
Is there a record of its place in the universe?
Does anyone know the effect of its gravity
        forming a solar system that too has vanished?

What happened to the consciousness of that star,
Of other beings--

How many bits of souls went into making me?

In Remembrance

I smell gardenia and touch its lustrous leaves,
I remember your garden and your gardenias.
Gardenia: the scent of your home, your love, Grandpa Ralph.

In Church, I touch the Rosary beads as you so often did in life.
When I stepped into the Vatican, where you never walked,
I felt your spirit fluttering around me,
A frizzy energy of excitement.
And each time I pray,
You are with me, Grandma Florence,
My guardian angel.

When I have trouble falling asleep,
I remember the Dumbo stories you told us
About clumsy Longneck, Croc, and Dumbo with the chocolate toothpaste--
A bedtime series that every child dreams of, but so few hear.
And when my mortality hits me like a baseball in my chest,
I remember your words,
"If it happens to everyone, it can't be bad."
You continue to calm me, Grandpa Dick.

Every year at this time, I light candles
In remembrance of you all,
To bring your spirits into the new year with me.
Yet I think about you everyday
So you are present in the electric impulses in my brain,
An energy similar to the one you had in life,
But in different form.
Your energy stays with me still
And will remain with me for the rest of my days.

The holidays are usually stress-filled, so I try my best to make my own holiday cheer. Granted, I'm not a full-fledged adult, so I don't have to worry about having guests, buying a tree, decorating it, and cooking. I am lucky. As a child, I didn't realize how much work my parents did so I could simply enjoy the magic of the holiday. When I was old enough to help with all of the preparation, suddenly the magic was gone and I wondered what had happened.
This year, I have many plans to make the holidays wonderful. For instance, I'll be making a gingerbread house. I am also making a lot of Christmas presents, so that helps me to constantly remember that this is the season of giving and showing your love. I will be singing at Christmas Eve and Day mass. And one more thing...I went to Winterhaven earlier in the week with my mother to see the lights. Now, perhaps my true colors will shine on this one, but being there gave me an idea for a holiday short story. More to come in the next post :D

Pro Evolution Soccer 2009
Is played everyday at my home
And I don't even know which buttons to press.
I recognize and memorize the songs of the set-up menus,
A mirror of daily life and the
Multitudes of decisions we unconsciously and
Constantly make.
These set-up menus,
Which take up more time than the game itself,
Determine the options of fate in the game.
Decisions made in the past
Continue to affect the future.

The game is on daily
And so accurate that I can now recognize soccer players
I have never met or even seen on TV.
Technology allows me access to information
I don't need or had no idea existed.

This video game--
Which critics may write-off as a waste of time--
Shows the ballet in soccer,
The consequences of semi-conscious actions,
And the benefits of working together.

If only Wall Street could apply these lessons,
Taking the time to make good decisions,
Like the set-up menus in PES 2009,
For the benefit of all,
Rather than think only of their individual fame and fortune,
Fucking over the team,
Our economy would not have crashed.

Chaotic half-baked HATEred.
Cigarettes:
A reoccurring chord of annoyance in my life.
Destroying relationships
With my grandmother--brother--boyfriends.

OF COURSE I'M FUCKING JEALOUS OF THIS
POISONOUS SUBSTANCE

It's the most destructive drug in my life and
I HAVE NEVER SMOKED ANYTHING

If I were God, I would have
NEVER invented the
Blasphemous tobacco plant.

No--
It wasn't God--
Tobacco is of the Devil
And millions of people inhale this evil
DAILY.
The Devil--
I fucking hate him, too.

There is another woman in my boyfriend's life.
She is artful and deceiving--
And addictive.
She can penetrate him deeper than I ever could--
Or would.
While I can barely fill his mouth,
She infiltrates his ever alveoli,
Rushing through his veins,
Altering his chemical balance.
She has penetrated me, too;
In a perverted orgy
She has left a dusting of
Black, cancerous ash on my lungs--
A singer's lungs.
While I have the power of
Logic
To persuade him to dump her,
His body cannot live without her.
One day he MUST choose
Between a dichotomy of women:
The angel and the whore,
Timeless images of impossible
Non-existent women.

May he choose the one who brings him
Happiness--
And long life.

FOOD
The "F" is my teeth and lips and mouth,
Masticating and chewing the nutrients of the earth.
The double "OO" mirrors the roundness of my butt cheeks,
Of humongous morning farts.
The "D" is the sound my poop makes
Hitting the water in the toilet
After my body has magically
Separated the bad from the good.
I wish issues of morality could be dealt with
In such a chemical and efficient manner.

FOOD
The roundness of the three letters
Could turn into my body
If I abuse the blessing of my FOOD.

FOOD
Has already been raped by my culture.
Natural, healthy ingredients,
Covered in pesticides,
Filled with preservatives
And artificial flavors--
I doubt that 30% of the FOOD even constitutes natural FOOD.
The flavors have
Weakened and dulled in my memory,
So that FOOD has
Melted into
Legend.

I tasted the caramel in Coca-Cola!
I have been drinking Coke for 16 years,
But I could never pin-point the flavor.
The sticky high fructose corn syrup
Sticks to my teeth.
The can boasts it's the original formula,
But the original included sugar.
Now it's made with an artificial substance
That is powerful enough to dissolve
My teeth.
Bleak destruction masked in bubbles and fake sugar.
But no one questions the ingredients or flavor of this
American classic.

No description necessary! It's Coca-Cola!
Its flavor is Coca-Cola!
Its taste is not to be questioned, not to be analyzed,
Only loved and esteemed as a drink that the tyrannical majority,
Worshiped as a legal and accepted addiction.

I will not blindly drink Coca-Cola.
I will not!
I will analyze and dissect and disagree,
And perhaps
REJECT
Coca-Cola--
For milk.

Last night, my good friend, David, invited me to the Jason Mraz concert at the Rialto. The Rialto is an old theater in downtown Tucson that is reminiscent of the 1950s. It is a relatively small auditorium, which afforded everyone with a good view and most people could be close to the stage. The bottom floor was standing room only. There are benefits and consequences to this. One the one hand, if people are standing, there is more energy in the crowd and more people can be at the concert. On the other hand, this system is not the best for short people or people who have a fear of crowds.

Jason came out thirty minutes after the written start time. He came out with witty remarks, jokes, and an atmosphere of comfort, familiarity, and the attitude that it would be a fun night. His songs ranged from romantic and slow, to his rap, to fun, to sexual, to drugs. Unlike some artists that use a special microphone to correct their pitch in the studio, Jason Mraz hit all of his high note in perfect pitch, never shying away from them. His vocal quality was consistent throughout the night and the overall quality was great. The show included older songs, newer songs, never recorded songs, and improv throughout the concert. His lyrics are poetic and varied to the degree that everyone had to be moved at some point in the concert.

Particularly moving was an unrecorded song from his last CD, number 13, which was cut because he only likes to have 12 songs per CD. It was a romantic song about loving an imperfect person, but having a pure love for them. He articulates these feelings with concrete images that one cannot exactly pair with an emotion, except that the feeling hits the audience in the gut, just like a type of spanish modernist poetry.

His music evokes such powerful emotion that he leaves the audience feeling alive and inspired. Although he was only on stage for an hour and a half, his music stayed with me for the rest of the night, today, and surely tomorrow. If you have the opportunity to attend one of his concerts, it will be worth your while.