A Boy's Revelation That He Is, As Expected, A girl.

I remember...(I love this phrase; it invokes such a feeling of reflection, and reflection is sure to follow it.)

When, during the (comprehensive...thank god (read:http://phillyphollyorie.webs.com/index.htm)) sexual education section of my 10th Grade Health class, all of the boys--rather uncomfortably--had to step up to the board and describe what it means, in spatial terms (what else), it means to be a man.

Likewise, the girls set to work putting vaginas and boobs galore on the white board, amid laughter, giggles, AND REMARKS OF SIMILAR MIRTH. The boys, in contrast, set to work putting peni (quite phallic phellos) glore on the white board, amid laughter, giggles, and a crucial lack of remarks of similar mirth.

Indeed, herein lies the difference between the two groups: girls have fun and talk and boys have fun...often more stupidly and more loudly than the former.

I, eschewing the later behavior, decided I was a girl, under a decidedly ironic context (the difference between men and women is not in any spatial representation, but in how they react to each other during the creation of this spatial representation.

Bie,
Well, girl, look at you!

Some sort of ending.

With each day I fall apart in tears, I feel closer to the end. The end of what? Who knows. There just lurks this haunting feeling that my life, as I now know it, will be ending soon. It just has been too similar for too long, and the stresses (generally associated with the things they are associated with) have lingered too long with little probability of ending. In other words, the stresses have become inherent in the way I interact with the world. And, again, I have this, admittedly illogical, intuition that everything will change as a result--either in suicide or in a seismic change in my life. I cannot say which, as the feeling is too unconscious in nature to constitute as conscience an end as suicide. Truthfully, it doesn't really matter. After all, if you kill yourself, you will be too dead to regret it.

Me or...It (REVISED)

Me or…“It”?

Is it my love,

That you make a goal of?

When you go and adulate the lights,

Is it so that I see you at greater heights?

And, at these heights, you look so nice,

Really, just dinner would have sufficed.

I pondered all day,

And I pondered all night,

Twisting and turning,

Writhing and yearning.

In fact,

I am now sure;

It is right.

With one more look in your eyes,

Just to be completely sure that this is no decision-unwise,

I say “yes” to your requests to marry me,

But, I concede a bit apprehensively,

When you lecherously touch my knee,

At every opportunity,

I wonder what it is that you really want of me.

This poem deals with a woman contemplating whether to marry her boyfriend, who has done outrageous things to get attention and seem impressive (“When you go and adulate the lights”). However, even after replying affirmatively to her boyfriend, she remains unsure as to whether she made the right decision, wondering if he is more interested in sex—the “It” mentioned in the title—or her. (“I wonder what it is that you really want of me.”)

My Love

I love
[kisses]
Every part
[kisses]
of your glorious body
[kisses]
Ravid cuteness!
[kisses]
blood and cum
[kisses]
scream and shout!
[kisses]
fissures in your skin
[kisses]
written with a subtle red
[kisses]
cries!
[kisses]
and then tears
[kisses]
over my knee
[kisses]
squirm, writhe
[kisses]
going to work on your bottom
[kisses]
so jocular, innocent, recalcitrant
[kisses]
[anything to escape !PAIN!
[kisses]
simple wants and needs
[kisses]
you didn't really mean wrong
[kisses]
but all the better
[kisses]
finally, with given all that you could give
[kisses]
you give
[kisses]
you get up
[kisses]
sniffling
[kisses]
!PAIN! lingering, you rub frantically
[kisses]
I stop you
[kisses]
a sorrowful look--"please?"
[kisses]
a light smack ON the face
[kisses]
hands fall back back to your sides
[kisses]
you stand in the corner,
with just one simple wish
[kisses]
another tear or two
[kisses]
that I peck away.

Can I snuggle with you? You are too cute.

Kisses,
G.L.A.Y.

City Lies

LIES!
Yeah, those city lies.
Yeah, those city lies.
Yeah, those city lies.

LIES!
Yeah, those city lies.
Yeah, those city lies.
Yeah, those city lies.

"It's Been Awhile" - Britney Spears

Today, while listening to Miley Cyrus's "The Climb" today, I wondered whether she wrote her own songs. It then occurred to me: it is more artistic that she didn't. When a songwriter syndicates his creations to the world, it makes more of an entity out of them. Pits of genius, only connected in history to their creator, floating abstractly about, waiting for someone to make them real.

I composed a poem to express the above thoughts:

Emotions

Bubbled up

exploding, popping

Everywhere

a commotion oozes out

it runs free

through the night

motley of energy

pulsing

through the fields,

color

Everywhere

on the grass,

on the stars,

on the sky itself,

meets a coduit

to self-expression

whatever,

whatever

it hits

and is let loose

estranged from

its creator

explosions and

explosions

then, color

on everyone

Meaning of "Well, Girl, Look At You"

"While only you can look at yourself, you must be reminded by others to which areas require reflection." - Moi
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unrelated:

Some, at the end of their lives, will gain assurance through knowing that they achieved their life's dream of, essentially, sentimentality—marriage, children, etc.

Others, comprising a far smaller lot, will gain assurance at this trying time through the knowledge that they lived as eclectically as their resources would allow.

I suspect that this dichotomy has a significant genetic basis, but, like all psychological dispositions, has a strong environmental element also.

As such, societies should encourage their citizens to hold the latter view on their life since, if everyone is striving for diversity, then people will have a far wider-range of different activities/ideas to choose from.

However, it could be argued that if everyone's road has the same destination, then each destination could be reached more easily, per the general idea which supports economics of scale.
It is
My reply to this "hypothetical argument" would be that

[I'm discarding most of the above; this is going to require more thought.]