Great Opportunities Brilliantly Disguised

[-editundo]

After a While

After a while you learn The subtle difference between Holding a hand and chaining a soul. And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning And company doesn’t always mean security. And you begin to learn That kisses aren’t contracts And presents aren’t promises. And you begin to accept your defeats With your head up and your eyes ahead; With the grace of a woman Not the grief of a child. And you learn To build all your roads on today Because tomorrow’s ground is Too uncertain for plans And futures have a way Of falling down in mid-flight. After a while you learn That even sunshine burns if you get too much. So you plant your own garden And decorate your own soul Instead of waiting For someone to bring you flowers. And you learn That you really can endure That you really are strong And you really do have worth. And you learn and you learn With every good bye you learn.

[-editundo]

Home is Where the Stuff Is

What is home?

Well, it’s where the heart is,

Of course.

It’s a fragile foundation

Built on a hope, a dream,

And a promise.

Broken at the drop of a hat

Or bomb or name.

It’s walls keeping the demons out

And all the while

Holding the ghosts in.

It’s where the magic happens

While the spark fizzles.

Curiosity gives it windows

Paranoia offers blinds and drapes.

The world is always in sight

But never in reach.

Closets in every room,

A place to put clothes, shoes,

Skeletons and accessories.

Carpet the floors, paint the walls,

Never let them speak a word.

You say home is where the heart is.

I say it’s where my stuff is.

[-editundo]

A change of seasons

People are always telling me how much they love autumn; the smell of falling leaves, the way the dusk and dawn is just a teensy bit cooler. It means football, and pumpkins, and holidays, and cuddling in warm hoodies. I love fall so much because it reminds us of the little things that we forget during the rest of the year, and also that the world has a lot in common with the people on it. In the fall all these beautiful things, full of life, lose all their foliage and prepare for growth and repair. The warm days slowly become cold nights, become cold mornings, just become cold. It’s in the fall that everything becomes the most real. You see the beauty of the tree despite the leaf, the soil without the grass, the sky without the sun. We see that we need a tree just as much when its bare as we do when it is in full bloom. I think most importantly though, it’s a time to realize that sometimes a thing is most beautiful as its falling apart.

[-editundo]

    It’s been a year now.  A lot of things have changed, you know.  I’ve learned more lessons in the last year than I did in the twenty-and-some-change that occurred before it.  I guess even the naive grow wise eventually.  As it turns out, if the world breaks into nuclear warfare, I’m positive it will be me and the cockroaches who remain.  I never knew just how strong I could be until it’s the only choice I had.  I realized I can make it on my own.  Then I realized I don’t really want to.  Then I thought maybe I would have to.  I found that even if you give 100% of yourself to another person, you can never expect even the smallest fraction of a percent of them back.  But, most importantly, I learned to hold onto the things that treat you well.  Because quite honestly, that thing you believe will never happen to you, might.  And that one person you think will always be there and love you no matter what, just might not.

[-editundo]

I love finding old stuff I wrote in high school.

Apparently this is an autobiographical speech I wrote four years ago.  I think most of it is still true.   

I stand in front of you all today, as the same Kassandra Arrowood most of you have been sitting next to in classes since kindergarten.  For twelve years we’ve been passing each other in the hallways, taking the same classes, and going to the same social events, and yet, what can we say we really know about each other?  With the exception of the few people we make it a point to surround ourselves with, most of us only know the distorted, grape vine memoirs of the person sitting right across the room from us.  My purpose here today is to turn that all around, and show you all the Kassandra Arrowood you’ve been a stranger to for all these years.     My parents have a very sick and demented sense of humor, so they named me Kassandra with a ‘K’ rather than a 'C’ so our answering machine could understandably say, “You have reached KKK, we are currently unavailable, please leave your name, number, and a short message, and we will get back with you as soon as possible."  And, well, let’s just be honest here, those who know us, know that not only are we currently unavailable, we are permanently unavailable.  Sometimes we’re working, but we’re always off.     Anyway, enough with the boring background information.  Let’s get to the…uh…well…less…boring details.  In my daily life, I think I’m mostly known amongst my closest companions as the reliable source of comedic relief.  I believe very much that one should see the humor in every situation, and if that doesn’t work, laugh about something funny that happened last week.  "Oh, your dog died lastnight?  I’m sorry to hear that.  I have a weird bruise on my toe, would you like to see it?”     Even though sometimes I’m not very good at showing it, I have this enormous heart that I can’t seem to fuel.  For that reason I think that when it comes to meeting people, and choosing my friends, I have terrible judgement in people.  I strictly abide by the “innocent until proven guilty” policy, and feel that it is true of all people.  I really want to believe that each and every person I meet is a good person, until they show me differently.  The scariest thing is, sometimes even then I try very hard to see the best in them.  I am afraid it can by my biggest downfall.     I am what I like to call “extravagantly ambitious."  I have all these crazy, outlandish, and yet noble dreams and aspirations, many of which I may never fulfill.  I want to do things with my life, I want to make noise and shake up this country…maybe even the world.  I want to do something valiant, like save a life, be a hero, write a classic, be the type of person other people want to emulate.  In contradiction to this, I strongly believe that the limelight is terrible for your complexion.     I really just want to get out of this Small-Town, Ohio and become some kind of legendary, amazing person I’ve never been before.  From the moment the feeling could be present, I’ve been filled with a burning desire for adventure.  As a child this meant climbing the walls of my crib, and allowing my waddling legs to take me wherever they pleased.  Some people consider this a rebellion, a refusal to abide by the commonly accepted rules of conduct, but I consider it a deep-seated passion for seeing all walks of life, all that the world has to offer.     I decided at a relatively young age that I wanted to be a psychologist when I grew up.  At the time it didn’t make much sense, but the older I became, the more myself, and those around me, began to understand.  I’ve always been a bit of a wallflower.  Not a wallflower in the sense that I intentionally seclude myself from civilization, but because I have this strange fascination with people.  I love to watch people and study how they interact with each other, because it truly is amazingly interesting.  I also spend more time than most would consider healthy thinking about who I am and how I relate to the rest of the world.  I like to try to determine where I belong among others.  Just so you know, the jury’s still out on this.     I’m the kind of person who not only wears my heart on my sleeve, but every other part of my existence as well.  I can become very attached to people very quickly, even if the feeling is not mutual, which results in me getting hurt and let down more often than I should.  I can not, for the life of me, hold a grudge against anyone, for anything, ever.  Not even if I really want to.  I’d also love to be that mysterious, elusive kind of person that people only wish they could know more about, but I just can’t.  I’m too quick to be honest and open with people for that.

[-editundo]

I'm going to miss a lot of things.

I have never been very good at saying what I mean, and saying it when it’s most important. And maybe that’s why I am where I am right now. Or maybe it’s just because that’s how the cookie crumbles.  But I feel like you should know that I’m going to miss a lot of things.  I’m going to miss taking care of you.  I’m going to miss seeing you when I wake up.  I’m going to miss seeing you when I go to sleep.  I’m going to miss separating your laundry from mine.  I’m going to miss cooking food for you that you don’t even like.  I’m going to miss that stupid face you make when you sleep.  I’m going to miss the way you talk like you’re five when you’re sleepy or not feeling well.  I’m going to miss a lot of things.  But most of all, I’m going to miss how I never really had anything to miss at all.

[-editundo]

“I’m not sure about this,” said the girl to the boy. “You sounded pretty sure not too long ago.” “Packing this suitcase is making me sick. Say something comforting.” “Ah…my buttercup with the cerebral bent is demanding comfort, not surprisingly, like a microwave dinner. Everything comes in a package. Today, we’re featuring two hugs and a kiss when you buy any size comfort of equal or greater value.” “Please…it’s not so much that I’m leaving as it is you’re just standing there watching. Can’t you see I’m trying to be strong? Comfort me.” “I love you more than words can say.” “Anything but that!” said the angry girl to the boy. “Alas, my comfort is discarded, onto the trash heap of faithful plungers…” “Come here.” “I am here.” “No, really be here…just once, for me, stop this charade facade thing, and just be, here, next to me…” said the girl to the boy. “I don’t think I can.” “Why not?” “Because you know everything about me…I’ve opened myself up to you…I’ve shown you these things on the inside…all these insecurities…all my faults…all these things no one else has seen…I’ve spent almost every day of my life for four years with you…made you a part of me…and this…is what I get.” “Stop! I can’t stand it…I’ll be sick…” said the sickly girl to the boy. “You said to drop the charade facade thing.” “Everything about you equals pain now,” said the analytical girl to the boy. “‘Everything about me equals pain,’ sayeth my love.” “Who are you?” “Four years ago you knew me well enough. Now, we are reduced to 'Je m'appele…’ on this, the day of our parting…” “Je m'appele Susan, comment t'apples tu?” “Je m'appele la tristesse, c'est…a cause de…you.” “I want you to keep this picture of us from the fair,” said the sentimental girl to the boy. “It’s my favorite.” “Is it? I thought you hated the fair…” “I did.” “So why is it your favorite?” “Because we weren’t…serious then” said the expository girl to the boy. “I want you to keep it so you can see how I’ll remember us. I’ve looked at it enough.” “Who was more serious– me or you?” “Oh, I don’t know– it doesn’t matter,” said the girl to the boy. “You better believe it does.” “Why?” “Because whoever was more serious is the loser here.” “Do you feel like the loser?” “I do.” “I’m sorry you feel that way,” said the sorry girl to the boy. The boy, when he was suffering, always relied on his intellect for false consolation. So he said, “I understand. I do. Change is life’s true essence. Everything–every living thing is bound by one rule–it must change. When you throw two people together, the living thing called the relationship just changes more quickly because there are two hearts, two minds, two sets of desires that don’t always intersect.” And this was his way of showing that he understood why it was good and right and natural to be selfish, and why it was good and right and natural to two-time, and why it was good and right and natural to break the promises spoken in moments qualified by passion, but mostly it was his way of showing that women always win with men, for men chase, and women… “Wow. That was deep,” said the Shakespearean girl to the boy. “Thanks.” “I’m glad you said that,” said the girl to the boy. “Why?” “Because I would hate to leave you without your knowing that.” “You knew it all along?” “Yeah–but I wouldn’t have said it that way.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “It never came up.” “'It never came up’, she says.” “Every girl knows that.” “Of course, every girl knows that.” “Why are you repeating what I’m saying?” “Because that’s all I can say. You knew that all along an didn’t tell me? I thought we told each other everything. I thought we were totally open with each other.” “Every girl knows that you can never be totally open with anyone.” “So, let me get this straight. You knew four years ago, in the heat of all that Miami sun, that we wouldn’t last?” “Well…yeah,” said the girl to the boy. “Can you help me with this stuff?” said the girl to the boy. “Yeah.” “You don’t seem upset anymore.” “Oh, rest assured. I am.” “Do you still love me?” said the user to the boy. “How can you ask me that?” “It’s important to me that you do.” “I love you more than ever.” “Good.” “Why good?” “Because I still love you,” said the girl to the boy. “As evidenced by your entourage of Samsonite.” “Always the poet. You’re my very best friend, you know. Do you know that?” The boy, who knew that the “best friend” part meant the end was very near, said, “I swear I could just cry right now…you’re my best friend, too.” But he didn’t mean it. “Good,” said the girl to the boy.“ "Why good?” “Because every girl knows that ex-boyfriends have a way of ceasing to be "ex” from time to time.“ "What are you saying?” “You know what I’m saying.” “I’ve never understood a single word you’ve said to me ever in my life.” “If our love were an animal, which animal would it be?” said the girl to the boy? “I see…a worm. A worm on a hook. A worm on a hook writhing in agony, desperately clutching to life–he’s flying through the air, eyeballing the rapidly approaching water…he’s noticing large mouth bass below, who haven’t sampled the meaty goodness of worms in years…” “OK! I was going to say an owl.” “Why?” “Because an owl can turn it’s head all the way around and see in every direction, and I think that’s like us. I know no matter where I go, you’re with me…you can see me.” “You wish.” “ I know. Kiss me,” said the user to the boy. “A friend kiss, or a lover kiss?” “Surprise me,” she answered. “What’s the difference?” “A little to do with technique, a lot to do with intent.” “I suppose every girl knows this.” “Yep. Kiss me.” “There…grade me.” “Wow…mixed signals. Passionate, yet distant. 98%” “What’d you take off for?” “Late work.”

[-editundo]

Self-Titled Poem

This is a self-titled poem. It’s all about who I am And about whom I’ve been. And sometimes it’s about Who I only wish I could be. It’s about side-swept words Held together with safety pins. It’s about the difference Between fashionista and A fashion criminal. It’s about how I am What perfect would be If perfect lost a fight With “What happened to you?” It’s about way back when, When heart break meant Hearts were far too intricate For my tiny, scissored hands. It’s about how I am like Wearing black shoes and a brown belt Or pairing tartan plaid with polka dots Just because they’re little Fashion sins that you can Kind of, almost get by with. But not quite. It’s all about where I’ve been And where I don’t want to be. It’s about owning the only Pair of head lights on a highway At four in the morning. And being okay with that. It’s about sleeping all day And staying up all night. It’s about the last hour Of the last day Of the rest of forever. It’s about living out loud Not crossing out words, Letter, phrases, paragraphs, faces, Never losing any evidence of My existence, with every piece Serving its own little purpose. Knowing that every language Is meant to be heard. How my voice is a symphony To by performed for my audience… The world. It’s about speaking up and Joining this conversation. It’s about feeding the noise. Being the party I went to A few weeks ago, where people Had one too many drinks And still drove home. It’s about risking it all For that one little thrill. It’s about making mistakes And learning from them. It’s about letting everyone in On what is feeding my heart. It’s about not wasting my life away. Or throwing it into the wind Like morning trash. It’s about not discovering In my own last breath That my entire life had only been One-hundred twenty million Different forms of trash. It’s about going places and Seeing things within my mind. Being nomadic with the thought Of others in your heart. It’s about getting up early every morning And creating something new. Smiling when I come up With an amazingly delicate idea. It’s about living a life with meaning. Not wasting my voice with Meaningless lyrics, like, “Do you want fries with that?” Or “What size would you like?” Or even worse, nothing at all. It’s about not being so repetitive. And writing sentences with periods. Only. At. The. End. It’s about no listening for Mistakes in others’ choice of words, Instead of the meaning behind them. But mostly…mostly it’s about beginning. It’s about finishing this and getting started.

[viridianmind]

[honey-sunny-bee]

GOSH FREAKING DANG IT

[soda-skull-deactivated20201002]

WHY

[poisonnightmares]

Fernanda Suarez

[cherrypiereadytodie]

des

[cherrypiereadytodie]

pa

[cherrypiereadytodie]

[dailygreysquotes]

‘Doesn’t matter how tough we are, trauma always leaves a scar. It follows us home, it changes our lives, trauma messes everybody up, but maybe that’s the point. All the pain and the fear and the crap. Maybe going through all of that is what keeps us moving forward. It’s what pushes us. Maybe we have to get a little messed up, before we can step up.’

Dr Alex Karev

[guava-jarritos]

In High School Musical 2 Sharpay very clearly states that they have “…Iced tea imported from England, life guards imported from Spain, towels imported from Turkey, and turkey imported from Maine.” In order to import an item, it must come from another country. The series is set in Albequerque, New Mexico, and as New Mexico and Maine are both part of the United States Of America, they cannot have their turkey imported from Maine. As most of the characters are white, and all speak English, this clearly indicates that High School Musical takes place in an alternate universe where a second Civil War has split the nation and New Mexico is no longer part of the Union, based on the fact that we never see the characters celebrate the Fourth of July. In this essay I will

[sohotthateveryonedied]

This took such an unexpected turn I got whiplash

[twilightown]

CAUSE EVERY TIME WE TOUCH I GET THIS FEELING

EVERY TIME WE KISS I SWEAR I COULD FLY

CAN’T U FEEL MY HEART BEAT FAST, I WANT THIS TO LAST

NEED YOU BY MY SIDE

[the-husbando]

This is the closest gif that can really capture the utter chaotic energy that is released when people hear this song

[bob-belcher]

Best thing I’ve heard all day

[dramaticbackstory]

“Like 2003 Evanescence?” She knew EXACTLY what to do.

[-editundo]

@rrreddmann I know you’re not exactly fan girling but honestly I love her.

[lilboreddev-blog]

reblog if your name isn't Amanda.

[thatblackwatchdouche-blog-blog]

2,121,566 people are not Amanda and counting!

We’ll find you Amanda.

[skadiyoko]

This post is scandalous.

[malevolentpooka-deactivated2015]

reblogging because Amanda cant. 

[comeinwiththarain-blog]

If you scroll past this I am going to assume your name is Amanda.

[stickynotes10]

we’re going on an Amanda hunt

[illinicoise]

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

[spn-fandom-breathing-heavily]

not even risking that shit

[codyslipring-deactivated2015060]

scrolled past this, re-evaluated my life, then SCROOOLLLED back up and hit the damn reblog button. 

[tumblgang]

She ain’t no games in real life so I take her serious all the time

Anyone with a name that starts with a “Z”, ends with an “i”, and isn’t some kind of Italian pasta, IS SERIOUS

I’m not climbing no mountain with a pig on my back, 🙅🏽🙅🏾🙅🏿 Negative.

[skuubasally]

Nope. I know better, have your reblog Madame Zeroni.

[luckytaters]

who the fuck is Madame Zeroni

[saudadesinfinitas-deactivated20]

Look at these stupid children who don’t know who Madame Zeroni is

[drayaintshit-deactivated2019030]

☝🏾😂

[callmedeku24]

Man lissen if you don’t know you better ask somebody AFTER you hit the reblog button

[emeraldmercury]

Idk who she is but I have an exam today so I’ll reblog her

[haiku-robot]

idk who she is but i have an exam today so i’ll reblog her

^Haiku^bot^0.4. Sometimes I do stupid things (but I have improved with syllables!). Beep-boop!

[jacobmick]

Because wise, I am.

[seymonecristina]

Oh fucks no she’s back lmao must reblog. I’m sorry guys

[secrettranslittleboy-blog]

Sowwy for the cuss words but I don’t need bad luck right before I move 300 miles to a new place

[just-sleeping-or-killing]

Guys forgive the language, but I don’t want to have to do exercise to break a curse

[slavefoxie-deactivated20190218]

Not even risking not doing this lol