My name is Casey

Like Most Revelations

It is the movement that incites the form,
discovered as a downward rapture--yes,
it is the movement that delights the form,
sustained by its own velocity.And yet

it is the movement that delays the form
while darkness slows and encumbers; in fact
it is the movement that betrays the form,
baffled in such toils of ease, until

it is the movement that deceives the form,
beguiling our attention--we supposed
it is the movement that achieves the form.
Were we mistaken? What does it matter if

it is the movement that negates the form?
Even though we give (give up) ourselves
to this mortal process of continuing,
it is the movement that creates the form.

Richard Howard


You turn to me with frozen lips
Your hands are icy cold
Your eyes burn bright against the frostbit sky
You never seemed more lovely than you do tonight
Pale on the horizon,
Like leaves frozen on the snow
Our two shadows merge inseperably
And time stands still as its pierced with cold

The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
I love you

There's a warmth in my heart
That haunts me when you're gone
Mend me to your side,
Never let go
So time knows nothing
We'll never grow cold
The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
I love you
Twilight descends on our silhouette
How soon spring comes
How soon spring forgets
I wanna hold time, say it'll never begin
Old man winter, be our friend
Old man winter, be our friend
The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
What's simple is true
I love you
I love you

designed by jo naz

Sunday, December 05, 2004

 

I'm afraid that I have a complete lack of understanding about the male species. Well, no, that's not true. I understand the urge to say whatever your pants give you an urge to... I have no empathy for them. It does not bother me to publicly embarass of someone who dares demean me by informing me of their desire to "hook-up" with me. Why should I? I refuse to show respect to someone who shows none to me.

To be perfectly honest, I oftentimes don't even understand what is wrong with these guys. Things calmed down at the Meadows after everyone saw what happened to Brendan... but I don't get why me.

I'm not implying that I'm not attractive-- I just caught site of myself in the mirror and was strangely pleased. I look nice when I don't try... What I'm getting at is that I'm the sort of girl that no one would talk to if it weren't for my confidence and face. We all know her-- mousy flat hair, too skinny (or slightly overweight), quiet, fearsome, very intelligent, teacher's pet. That would have been me. It wouldn't have been much different form myself, really. I was very shy before I got into debate.

What I'm trying to imply is that I'm not one of the vapid, shallow, ignorant, easy girls that are normally preyed upon. I am intelligent and deep when I feel like showing it.

To quote my now discarded DI, "This doesn't happen to smart girls."

If that rule followed, my life would be so different. If it made a difference that doing math gave me a strange satisfaction, or that I argue for entire class periods about what sort of compass john donne was talking about, or that I dissect my history text books for gendered language and biases... If the fact that I really try to understand the world made any difference.. people like my father, tony, and all those boys who chase me like an elusive object... they wouldn't be allowed to go near me. I would be sacred to them.

But it doesn't... Nothing makes any difference here on earth. Objects that are supposedly sacred like the virgin mary cheese sandwich are sold on ebay and shown off in the hard rock cafe for religious zealots to stare at, believing that they've somehow gotten closer to god... My body is not sacred. It is not a temple. My body is the object that complicates my mind. I can't just be intelligent... I can't just be empathetic and understanding, and the sort of person who doesn't mind saving other people a bit of work.

On top of that I have to tollerate idiots who think that trashy pickup lines and overt stares make me desire them, simply because they feel themselves desirable.

Well I don't play by the same rules, apparently. I don't search out these attentions. I don't desire the burning feeling of eyes upon me. I don't want anything that has happened to me. And none of it's my fault.

I have brought only good things upon myself.

I love you |7:24 AM