March 21 - I pick it up, and begin again

When no ideas come,
I don't know what to do.
I'm left with an empty sheet of paper,
and a brain full of the knowledge that I need to begin.
Ideas swirl around,
but dissipate as quickly as they come.
I put my pencil to the paper,
and draw a half circle.
I lift the pencil,
and turn it around.
Drag the eraser over the line,
until it disappears.
I begin again,
put pencil to paper.
This time I draw a line.
When I get to the end,
I lift the pencil,
and erase.
I place the pencil next to the paper,
and breathe a sigh of exasperation.
I pick it up,
and begin again.

March 20 - Little Buildings

Little buildings cover my little map of Europe. Little representations of the big places lots of people were held in and killed at. Little red hotels for the extermination camps. Little blue cubes for the labor camps. Little yellow circles for the concentration camps. Little green houses for the mixed camps. Little black gems for the transit camps. Little representations of big, horrible, things. Little versions of the events that conspired between 1939 and 1945.

Big buildings covered most of Europe. Big places where people were held and killed. Big extermination camps. Small labor camps. Medium concentration camps. Large mixed camps. Varying transit camps. Big places that saw so many people, humans were no longer a big problem. Little people in the grand scheme of the events that conspired between 1939 and 1945.

WWII on the brain. My map can't convey everything that happened. Can't explain how many people were killed. Can't even begin to explain how horrible the events that conspired between 1939 and 1945 truly were.

March 16 - Little Moments

The last moment just before a test is over, or the way the ball flies into the goal. Those are the things that make me really happy. But recently, I've discovered that just before my first scene I feel the same way. Before I go out on stage and change the set, or sing a song, I feel really, truly, happy and excited. And like I can do anything. It's a wonderful feeling. And then there are the little things, like the way I feel like dancing every time a song plays, or the way I laugh with my friends. It's all those little moments that make life worth living.

March 15 - The Perfect Morning

The perfect morning is when your whole class is kept in the dark. You know something, and they don't. You know that you and your fellow 8th graders will sneak out and set up breakfast a block away at the beach. And you have to lie to convince them to leave you alone long enough that you can sneak to the kitchen without them knowing. Of course, they know something is up. Why else would all of the 8th graders leave at exactly the same time? But they don't know exactly what is going on. When you arrive at the beach, you kick off your shoes, and lay out the blankets and food. You draw boxes in the sand, in hopes of organizing everything. Then the birds come, and you have to chase them away. They leave you alone, so you go down to the edge of the ocean and watch the waves crash around your ankles. Before you know it, you can see the tiny dots of your class running down the stairs on the other side of the highway. As they get closer, you run out to greet them, smilingly stupidly from ear to ear. They aren't all surprised, but most of them are, and their faces are the best part of all.

March 14 - Ruining the Picture

Laying on the ground, wrapped in a blanket, next to people I have grown to care for, looking up at the night sky. That's where I am right now. We dragged a tarp and blanket over so we would have somewhere dry to lay amidst the wet grass. I can see so many stars from out here. They point out Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Cassiopeia, Orion, and more as I stare out into the vast darkness above me. They tell the stories of how these creatures got to the sky, but that's all they are: stories. It's so beautiful. Looking up at the night sky, next to people I have grown to care for, wrapped in a blanket, laying on the ground. The only problem is, when I turn my head, I can see the lights of Denver glowing up from the earth, ruining the picture.

March 13 - Jammed Fingers

Soccer can be painful.
Blocking a goal can be dangerous.
And terrifying.
Because you see a ball flying at your face,
and you know that if you don't stop it,
it will go in the goal
and the other team will get a point.
But if you do stop it,
you can either use your face,
or your hand,
or your foot,
or any other part of your body.
Which can be painful.
When I jump to reach the ball,
in the top right corner of the goal,
I use my hands,
which turns out to be the best option.
The only problem is,
when I block the shot,
I jam the thumb and pointer finger
on my right hand
directly into the ball.

March 12 - So Far From Normal

I, myself, am so far from normal.
He, himself, is so far from normal.
She, herself, is so far from normal.
They, themselves, are so far from normal.
We, ourselves, are so far from normal.
You, yourself, are so far from normal.
That we can't even look back
and see
where
normal
is.