Lemme see your HALO! HALO! HALO! HALO!

Come ON!
GET UP WHY DON'T YOU!

Rollerblade down that street baby! Make a difference in your world!
COME ON SHOUT IT OUT!
Make people feel better about being them for all they're worth!
Come on! YOUR'E worth it too!!

.......


You hear that silence?
It's the moment of change, change, change...
All those hateful walls are breaking down in front of you and it' ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!
It's your hand-touch. It's the way your fingers press into those bricks. It's the way you throw your heart into the plaster. It's every inch of your HALO! Let it shiiiiiiine baby!

HALO!

Have Heart!

I'm not going to lie, heartache feels wonderful.

When I didn't know what it felt like I used to watch as many tv shows and listen to as many songs as I could, that had to do with heartache. I crave-d it. I needed it. It's something I could Live off of for the rest of my Life.

So when I'm without it, I ask: 

Where are the tears? Where is the need for revenge? Where is conflict between hearts? Where is the scene where we throw our bodies to the wrong people? Where is the bittersweet darkness?






It's in the real world



Whenever I feel uninspired to write or to create I turn back on my memories. The people that hurt me I forgive on the outside, but I keep the anger in the skin of my heart. I need it to say that I can do better in life. I need it to inspire me. I need it to push me past the boundaries.



I try to remember the talks we had on my driveway. I rub my arms thinking about you-- the person that liberated me from the expectations of life. I'm satisfied when I hear you do hard drugs, because I don't. I bite my knuckles when I remember the way you VbitV me on the neck the other night. I sweat and stomp my feet hoping I cause an earthquake in the country you're in.

SCRATCH YOURSELF!
LOVE YOURSELF!

I just can't get enough!

I love the betrayal when I have no expectations. I relish the rampage I bring to others sometimes. Knowing that I have some control of feelings on others. Not that I mean to.

It's what makes me not want to have friends, and to find the really insane ones at the same time.

Ears are burning.
Breath is panting.
Fin-g-e-r-s type-ing

Throw your head against the wall!

That's what I do when I think of the monster in my heart.

-Benji

Somewhere Only We Know

So I've been looking for this song for YEARS and in this moment I'm reminded something...
that at the end of the day everything is just a memory. That moment I had in the shower in the morning, thinking that the day will be over in a minute... it's so simple and beautifully horrific.
Not sure if my classmates are even reading this...
but I adore something about each and every one of you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWjvpX33KUc

The Ice Pack

Recently, artist LIGHTS released an CD Remix package of her song ICE. When I first heard the song I thought it was really cheesy-awesome. I've been addicted to LIGHTS ever since February Air. It seems like pop artists come and go. Last year I loved Avril Lavigne because she was somebody that wouldn't let people stand in her way. I just disliked her sixteen year old attitude (and still do). Anyways, LIGHTS isn't like any pop star I have ever come across. By down to earth you don't think of ripped jeans, you think of real hobbies like playing World of Warcraft. By being a real person you don't think of vacations to africa to adopt a kid, you think of a girl that goes home to spend time with her family.

So here's my advice to any wannabe divas. The only people that care about you now are the ones that are as self centered as you. But the ones that are going to care about you later are the ones that you showed heart to.

Stay safe. Be honest.

2 A.M.

It never surprises me when I find myself up at 2 A.M. The hour just holds something special for me whenever I'm writing.

Anyways, this year I'm officially writing for NANOWRIMO (National Novel Writing Month). 50K words in just 30 days! Whew! I am really behind with only 5,000 but I'm hoping to crunch out another 5,000 tomorrow since it's Veteran's Day and another 15K done by the end of the week. I think I can do it.

I feel like it's something I have to prove to not only myself but to other people around me. Everyone knows that I live in this little pretend world all the time but the only way to show them that I'm not just a dreamer is to give them proof that I'm doing more than just sleeping. I'm doing.

Do You Feel Epic?

Take everything you know and apply it to what you have

A Not So Humble Defeat

How do you make people care? I think it's by sticking pins in their organs... and I'm almos quite serious.

The past week at my college there was supposed to be an event for the Gay Straight Alliance Club. Our event was supposed to introduce our club to the campus, even though it's officialy been there since the end of last year. With the participation of the student body we were supposed to host a game called Guess The Straight Person. The sum of the game is to ask questions to a panel of five people, four gays and one straight; and at the end the audience is supposed to guess who is the straight person. The questions can range anywhere from what kind of jeans does the person wear to how many jelly beans they can stuff in their mouth. The only type of questions that cannot be asked are ones pretaining to their sexuality.
In the beginning I had everyone I needed, being the club president, and I had the time to organize it all together. I thought, "whew, what a relief. I know that this year hasn't been the easiest to try and get people to come here but this will work for sure." That is what I thought originally.
I had announced our event to the entire campus and the government body which helped reel in more volunteers for the event. I had posters and cards and flyers and now I had a voice. It seemed like maybe I could actually get people to start coming to the meetings. So far they were about 1 or 3 people attending and all we did was talk. I was tired of coming up with the plans all by myself and I was ready to start heading out there to the campus, but you need a team before that happens. This event would give me and the club the people it needed to survive.
The weekend started and I recieved a flood of emails of people who wanted to volunteer. Okay, maybe not a flood but it sure felt that way after months of nothing in return from people. People were excited about something new and unheard of and who could blame them. So I assigned people positions and auditions the coming Friday.
   - Seriously it felt like a hurricane swept everyone away. People started pulling out for unknown reasons. I had ones that never came for the audition, nonetheless even send a notable email. Apologies left and right and a promise to still attend the event. I had to breathe.... and then realize that no one was going to come.
If someone cannot even take the time to fulfill a promise of helping out then what are the chances that someone is going to come. I had to keep reminding myself that I was not alone but I have felt this way from the get go.

On the main campus we have over 60 clubs, in counting! We have Bible Club, Anime, Salsa Dancing, Hip Hop, Future Teachers, etc. etc. etc. The Gay Straight Alliance started out with at least twelve member last year. I started out as the Vice President but was soon put in the position of leader when the current president admitted to not know how to run things. Personally, I feel better when I'm under someone. It makes me feel like I have something to work harder for. And I did. I really did.
  When people expect you to be leader they expect a really great adventure. But when you're just an average joe and do something extrodinary you are praised.

So I'm at a crossroad. I don't know if I should close the club or not. What does a club really matter if I'm the only voice. I have an amount of people in the club, that would probably average to about two. I asked them before if it was okay with them to close the club and they voted no. But I don't think that I have the time to make this one work out.
When is it okay to give on something?
That is the question of the day.

On The Road Again

Last year LIGHTS was a growing pop sensation and I witnessed her rising stardom! I traveled to Orlando to see her live with my friend Jack. This time around we are planning to see her at least twice while she's in Florida.

Hope to see some of you there!

It's GOOD to stay positive!

http://www.good.is/

I recently found this after posting the scab blog (which I would like to thank my dad and commenters for helping me look at a different side of the coin). It's GOOD to know that there a websites, people, family, and press that really care about things around them. Check this site out! It's fun, quirky, adventurous, and original!

The Stolen Journals

So at the end of my junior year I stole a bunch of journals from my journalism class. Originally our old teacher had bought them for us to write in but they only ended up being written 3 times because she left for medical reasons. Anyways, I digress...

I returned the journals to as many people as I possibly could but I still ended up with at least 20 of them. I put most of them away for keeping (I'm a writer, el duh!). The rest I took the time to look through. I KNOW! Invasion of privacy! But in all honesty...I really found out a lot of things about my classmates. Most of the girls just rambled on about how boring the class was or that they were excited for their very first prom, tryouts or friends. In one of them she just simply drew pink flowers. In another I saw a song or simple poem.

Since then I bring them to class to scribble in just adding onto the stories that they already created. Which leaves me to wonder, could it be that simple to translate your life into someone elses?

Let's see... if I was one of these girls... I'd probably be dissapointed how high school turned out because I was looking forward to so much. High school would have been this big dream that I wanted to see but now it's more like a deflated cloud. Sure I had some great times and my body really did change but I had no idea where I was going and I still feel soo alone.

For anothers... I would probably have said that I really changed. My face doesn't even look the same anymore! My hair has grown longer and I have grown quite beautiful by now. I don't think I have the confidence to really admit it to anyone else... so maybe it's not true.

WHO'S HEAD COUlD YOU TRANSLATE INTO?

The Monster's Den

I took this picture late last winter when I went out and shot my first vlog. It really intrigued me, and scared me just a little bit just sitting there like it had always been. Carried away, like I always am, my imagination suddenly spiraled into a story, but I think I'll save that for another time. What I wanted to compare in this picture and in my life is that I feel like there is this open door in my head that lets too many thoughts in, especially in my Ethics class.
Originally I took this class because I wanted to learn more about the world and where I stood on certain issues, although now it seems like I just go there to be mortified. The first day I went to the class I had an opinion but I think I let it carry me too far down teh river. After that I think everyone just thought I was nuts.
Ever since then it seems like I can't make my point clear enough for everyone to hear, and when I do it feels like then that I'm the only person that has that opinion. The only reason I keep talking is because I keep in mind that old say, "what you want to say more than likely someone wants to say also, but they just need someone to follow." Something like that.

The recent discussion was on Euthanasia, the practicing of killing oneself, but to narrow it down a bit more we were talkinga bout if we should let kids practice it if we allow ourselves to practice it. My point was that kids deserved to know about it and they should be allowed to have an opnion even if they don't fully understand death itself. Why? Well everyone was saying that kids hardly know what anything means when they are so very young, but they really really do. I feel like people underestimate the knowledge of a kid.
So I argued that kids should be taught about it if the subject did come up in their life. Saying that they don't understand death in the least bit sense is proposterous! If they didn't then how come we teach them about religion or angels? Or even demons!? The fact is that they do understand it just like they understand so many other things. The only thing that they don't understand is their opinion!

You see what I mean, I just have this open door that wants to let everyone express their opinion. My only wish is that I wasn't the only one who felt like a complete monster when I spoke. Because no one agrees with me. Gosh! What a complaintive person I am, lol. But that's where I stand.

DO YOU THINK IT'S RIGHT TO TEACH KIDS ABOUT EUTHANASIA? WHY OR WHY NOT?!

All Is Love

The First Scab

Shh! This is a secret...

Whatever happens here, is a secret. 

Why? Why is it a secret?

Because up until now you had no idea who you were. You had no idea who I was. And you had no idea who everyone around you was either. 

Isn't that a slap in the face? 

Okay, take it as a lie... but you know it's true. That no one is how they seem and that everything you see on a person is a badge, a scab, a fabrication stitched to the bones. It makes you shake doesn't it? If it doesn't, it should. 

So who's the first scab I want to pick at...? 

It's me...

Let's see... brown skin, curly hair, freckled hands... 

Geek lover, nose picker, stubborn, stuck...

Heartbroken, afraid, but happy on the smallest discoveries. I think we all are. 

My dad told me the other night that these are supposed to be the best years of my life... and I don't know how he could ever say something like that. The best years of my life is supposed to include a Great Recession, a heart that's broken, lost ambition, and no university life? I feel like living in this small town is killing me from the inside out. It's a hot and sticky massacre. You never see the seasons change. You never get past the people you met in high school. You never discover new things. Isn't that what college is about? 

Yoooou caught me! I'm complaining. Big Time! 

And I have a lot to be grateful for and in some ways I feel like these words will be WAY underrated. Because around here all everyone will ever say is, "You've got a lot to be grateful for kid!" and then you HAVE to agree. How can people say that? Maybe only incredibly optimistic people can. And I used to be one of those people. 

But when you have a ton of experiences stabbing you from every which side, and then you call your friends that are in New York or Georgia and meeting new people in dorms... you have a TON to think about. 

And maybe that's the problem. 

There is too much to think about. 

Picking apart the details and the virtues of others completely demolishes the story you have built up around yourself. 

Here was my life. 

Hem Hem! 

Confused but content with my morals. People told me that they admired me because I was just so innocent. I made good decisions because that's what is expected. Sure I've tried to break a few rules but for the wrong reasons. I never really saw why any needed to be broken in the first place. I didn't think about loving life or hating it. I was just content. It's easy. Life is easy. It was just simple. I read books of other stories that I didn't expect to live. If anything the only thing I did expect was to live bigger than this one day. 

And then that day just never came. 

After I got my heart broken I started hurting people in all the wrong ways. And I still feel like punching out the sucker that did it. It wasn't long after that though that I started discovering certain... and most unusual things about myself though. That for some reason there is something watching me. There is a certain... (JUST SHUT UP) power I have; and that alone pretty much makes me worried about the rest of my life. 

So there you have it! You know nothing about me still! 

But at the same time you know everything that is about to come. 

Maybe afterwards you can sew the pieces together, like how I am right now, but...

... just don't be afraid to finish the puzzle, like how I am to do right now. 

So here's the first scab. 

Motion

One by One they popped up on the shell of the warrior's soul, ice crystals that were growing inside of him. Cold and bewildered, he soon let them encase his entire being. He was too afraid to move les the ice overtook him completely. He could feel claws similar to Reaf's already munching into him by the second. Needles, pins, and swords struck him instantly it seemed all at once.
A proud lion roar shook the realm of ice but did nothing to crack it open. In the pit of the warrior's fear though grew anger. He wasn't alone in this but he couldn't count on the strength of his Saviour to save him all the time. Why can't he just grow up! He needs himself and only himself! You can't be yourself with people that are telling you to start being able to depend on yourself! You can't always run to someone when you feel like you can't save your own life. They tell you to just make the effort and then complain. Well why can't he complain now?!

Everyone is just selfish so I will be too! I hate it! I hate feeling like I have to be myself on my own..Anger has me strugglging against the ice. The limbs of my soul struggle and release the encasing tomb. I can do this on my own. I don't need him. I don't NEED HIM!

The ice explodes and the warrior's soul is released. He needn't his light-saber to protect him. Reaf strikes back with his icicle-claws while the warrior pushes off his feet and dashes for the creature's neck. The warrior trails his fingers over the frost laden face of Reaf, and steam pushes up from his insides. Red and orange colors paint the scene as the warrior continues to slay the beast... and in the end he does.
Smiling, the world recovers: the trees, the grass, the stars, the light... but one thing has remain frozen in time.

His lion.

The Uproar!

Sometimes in the middle of the night I hear something brushing up against my windows. Of course I only hear it when I'm awake, which makes me worried about what noises I don't hear when I'm asleep. When I was little we used to have the woods next door, but since they've been cut down I've calculated moths, bats, and pine needles out of the equation. Sometimes.... I wonder if somebody is watching me.

       His heartbeat punched right through his throat the moment the warrior saw Reaf in the clearing. Dark blue icicles hung by the tip of the creature's fingers, sliding them into the warrior's chest as he rode by on the back of a lion. His soul was instantly pinned against the ground while his lion was held off by Reaf's other arctic claw.
       Blue smoke blew out from the warrior's lips that filled the void between the monster and him. His light-saber had rolled back into the shadows of the forest the moment Reaf had pierced his soul. The only weapon he had now seemed to be himself.
        Crrrrruuuuuuuuunch!!!!
      Something hard had twisted inside the warrior, churning the most delicate parts of his being. He called out for the aid of his lion but the only reaction was the powder-like smoke.
        "Saviour!" cried Reaf. The warrior shook his head and tried calling out for help again but to no avail. The creature took another plunge into the warrior's soul and laughed so it's voice echoed back from the forest.
         The grass reeds shriveled into brown wisps of smoke while the sky darkened into a dark hazy purple. The vultures went about eating the stars while the trees began to pull down, tugging at the clouds. Reaf neared his prey with an open mouth full of bones and yellow fire.
      
      
  

The Wanderer Above The Sea (Intermission)

Der Wanderer, or The Wanderer Above The Sea, painted by Casper David Fredrick

Lost

October is more like the action of injection than a transition in Florida. We don't see the leaves change and we don't really put on our jackets until late November. When the cold hits, it's a sudden bone chill feeling that the holidays are here and the year is about to end. Inside me though, it feels like magic is brewing. A cauldron of costumes, goose eggs, voodoo dolls, sweet potatoes, and glitter. I Stir-stir-stir with a thick white bone of a fairy's back.

Why is it that everything starts to feel like it's coming to life, right when it's dying away?

A sudden rush of stories come washing over my notebooks and computer screen. Split-splat, split-splat, the words

dribble into the white ocean, feeding the fishy ideas that maybe this story will be good. It's more than just writing a story

though. Around November my family makes frequent trips north to Georgia and New York to visit relatives for the holidays.

I indulge my mind in World of Warcraft, Neil Gaiman books, old Sci-Fi movies like Blade Runner, the woods, Starbucks,

and cozy nooks of my mind along the way:

In the forest a lion rampages through, burrowing down the pine trees with a warrior's soul on his back. In the

warrior's left hand he holds a light-saber to help light the way and keep the snarling beasts at bay. The cackle of a witch

echoes from the stars, a signal that has the lion and warrior on edge. Can they get through the woods in time?

The trees rattle together when the wind-chills tumble through from the North. The witch will stop at nothing to

keep the soldiers from approaching the Star-Child. It was said to the warrior that the child was once human until

the witch had ripped her body from every limb and sowed her soul into a doll's knapsack skin. The lion's roar shakes

the vultures from their perch at the very thought of this.

Just ahead the warrior can see a landscape of stars, which means that the wood is coming to an end. He grips

his light-saber in ready for whatever danger comes their way. And a danger is coming.

We Are Golden

That moment you realize that you did all this hard work and then-POOF! For what?

Recently I did this music video with my friend, involving all the stuff in my room for Mika's music video contest: We Are Golden. While it may not be able to be uploaded for the contest (for some reason his website did not recognize the new address of youtube) I resort to displaying it here:

ENJOY!

All Our Sinners

Tonight was epic, tick... tick... tick...

When silence is still you can feel the mildew of time. I'm not sure if that makes sense or if I just wanted to sound poetic, but that's how I feel. Driving home from work I saw accidents and burglaries down the street by the house that I pass by everyday on my way to school. A gay couple lives there behind an old old tree and today I saw a dozen police cars there.

I'm not sure what happened but it got to me... and this pit, these ingrown tumor of thoughts suddenly sucked in all of my emotions. I suddenly realized that the person I had been in love with is no longer inviting me to their house every weekend. That those unfinished feelings is what life is about and they will forever linger behind the old old tree. A life that (is very cliche) might have been.

If we had lived in that house would we have created a beautiful life one day? Would I have planted my sunflowers like I did in my backyard today? Would you have grown the heart of our home in the bedroom or in the kitchen behind the pans of herbs and spices? Rocking chairs by the parrot cages, pencils drawing their own conclusions, passion stirring in the mug of our hearts each morning, and sirens singing in the fate of our deaths.

I'm not in love with him anymore even though he showed me the best of my potential... or maybe I was going through the best of who I was at the time that I met him... Either way I'm not in love with him anymore... but it hurts to think or to feel the presence of another reality so very close, and see another dancing, flourishing, beating, breathing right in front of you.

I'm tired of thinking but I heard that something stirs in the rubble and that one day they're cutting down that old tree, because the burglar was caught there, stealing someone else's loved

Bodies

Did you ever have a dream where you weren't living in your own body, or where you didn't have a body at all?

Chelsea used to have this dream a lot. She said that a shaman woman would come into her room and teach her potions and spells as to how to disarm her body and simply float. Sometimes she would scream herself awake, other times she just slept through until morning.

I was SO jealous that she had such a cool dream. I later blamed my dad for all the dreamcatchers he gave me, but I digress. She told me that she cried because what would happen if she landed in the body of a doll? You see, she had tons and tons of dolls lining her room. All the way from Nalla from the Lion King, to real African made dolls, porcelain, and barbies; and what if she had to live motionless for the rest of her life? Because she knew what we did to her dolls:

• We would tie them to the fan by her bunk-bed, switch the dial on high, and laugh when the flew around the room.
• Sometimes her brother would stuff them down his pants
• We would cut their hair and limbs when they got into a car accident
• Threw them out windows
• Painted peanut butter on the bodies for the squirrels
• Buried them in the sandboxes that the dogs urinated in
• ETC.

Eventually what I did for her was I gave her a magic doll that the children of Guatemala made. It was said to not only

get rid of bad dreams but to grant wishes as well.

Sometimes I wonder though what could happen if you really could dispose of your body and simply float? I'm sure Chelsea forgot all about this but somewhere during our friendship she gave me a locked box that held all of her personal things. And when I found it and just so happened to open it with the key I stole from her I thought of something new:

If you could live the life of someone else's object, which would it be?

Would it be their hairbrush? Their computer? Gum, beloved lego set, their underwear?

I think that I would be my brother's shoes because it's one of the things that he cares most about and that he uses everyday. I couldn't sit there and do nothing all day.

Or, friend's boa because it's so fluffy and makes everyone really happy when they touch it :D

Or, my grandparents wedding album, because of how often they look at it with gleeful eyes.

Or the sound waves that Imogen Heap plays with in her free time. It's so detailed and beautiful like strawberry ice cream on simmering waffles kind of beautiful.

What would YOU be, and why?

Bad Body Double by imogenheap

Galactic Glitter!

There's glitter absolutely everywhere!

(Takes a moment to brush out the gold flakes from the afro hair)

I'm not sure if it's my rising body temperature, creative inspiration, pure craziness, or the music that's got me doing this right now:

Painting gold stars on my bedroom walls is the absolute last thing I thought that I would be doing at 12 in the morning.

I mean, I guess I partly started doing it to get things off my mind. But I started thinking that whatever sky I navigate I need to know that I'm making a difference in the entire galaxy! I just couldn't live a suppressed life.

I remember when I was little that I loved loved loved The Little Mermaid!

I mean, what gay boy didn't, lol. I loved it so much that I wanted to create a little cove beneath my bed full of treasures of polly pocket towns, keys, posters of cute soccer men, legos, jewels, and sometimes even candy. Eventually one day my mom found it during spring cleaning and I ran into the bathroom trying to think of an excuse as to why this, all of this crap, was beneath my bed and why was I hiding it? When I came back out my mom said it was okay but just that I shouldn't keep so many things stored beneath. I think she knew though that she stumbled in on something private.

I guess since then I hate to suppress myself from others. I don't want to have to face that humiliation again--ever. So whenever I finish this sky I'll be sure to update and maybe I'll even include some of you in it!

March 0f The Wooden Children

Ta-thrum thrum, Greeeeaggg-AH!!!

Thrum-thrum-thrum, SMMASH!!!

These are sounds that I learned to avoid when I was little. I was never running away from monsters, parents, or even bullies but something much much worse- a girl! I could have sworn to you that there was nothing scarier than this girl in particular though; what with her black coil hair, pink hair bows, and booger crusted fingers, Chelsea Canson was the bogey-woman for me!

Remember that time you had me sell sandwiches to the kids on the block? Sandwiches that were made out of REAL sand though because you said everyone should use their imagination! Mhm! There was also the time you pressed my lips against the shower wall so you could see the ring of your mother's lipstick and then threw her pearls and nightgown over my round body... I don't think she was too pleased to find me standing in her high heels either though. From peeing in the sandbox, to eating mayo/bologna sandwiches (real sandwiches this time) in the tree house your dad built for you (jealous), making tents and sneaking gummy snacks when I slept over, bloody noses, truth or dare, first kiss, and best friends...

We told each other everything.

When friends died. When I told you I was gay. The secret to the magic meatballs. Love, family, virginity, spells, witches, wine, magic carpets, monsters, hurricanes, and family again. We even shared a silly pact name of the Wooden Children, because whenever people saw us walking down the street they thought we were brother and sister because of our skin color... brown.

So I have to tell you...

There is one thing though that I never told you. So please don't be mad...

I stole the key to your heart. I know! I know! Please don't shoot me after you read this. If you read this. Please don't leave a scar on my belly again! Please oh please don't start tearing off my limbs like you did to your Barbie doll! I was young! I was stupid!

I stole it when you were sleeping one night. That night after we talked about our... real famalies. I went into your Pollypocket collection and opened up the set that looked like the big pink star... and I looked in the secret compartment to steal the key. Your favorite key. It's tiny silver heart with the hole in the middle and two round teeth at the end. I kept it in my underwear until I got home the next morning and hid it in my own secret compartment.

I'm so so sorry! But I can't give it back!

I need it for something important. Because you see... the other night, when I was going through some things I found out that it opened something other than your big pink star... It opened up something... scary. And. I need to open it again. So please! Let me keep it! Just until I figure out what to do, then I promise I'll give it right back.

I really promise! And you can trust me! I'll tell you what it was for because you're going to be just as frightened and surprised as I was to see that we're still as much a part of each other as we were when we were known as The Wooden Children.

Time To Pretend

By Gregory Apple

My fingers drip streaks of sky blue liquid across the canvas of a table top and then begin to paint suds over the crayon and ketchup stains. I unearth a field of blue flowers by slipping the grains of salt into my palm by the edge of the table. A kid must have drawn them beneath the plate when their parents weren't watching. Clever. I put my nose to the table to breathe in the tiny flakes of blue wax: elementary, woods, blood, dream catchers, adopti

on, love, a brother, and imagination.

When I was little I used to carry around notebooks and multi-colored pens. Each color would represent a different character I drew. Pink would often represent evil. Red would be brave like my brother. Green and blue would be friends forever. And brown... brown would be the color of love. I would draw stories of princesses, Digimon tamers, friends I wish I had, boys I wanted to fall in love with, challenges I would put my real friends through, myths and games I made up, and of course me.

I would be the coolest character of course. I would wear maybe five belts and a pair of goggles like the cool anime kids did on TV. Sometimes I would be an evil android out to destroy the world, a powerful Digimon Tamer that could defeat any opponent, a princess with magical powers but horribly in distress; I could be the ocean, I could control meteors in space, grow wicked cool jelly beans, and even create worlds of blue flowers.

My fingers dance over the picture one last time before I decide to wipe the table and get on with my job. The wax petals crumble the moment my rag washes over them and I thank the little kid who drew them in silence.

Later tonight I walk back over to the same table before getting ready to leave. The entire night after finding the picture I kept thinking about the kid that might have drawn it. I guess I just feel close to them in some really weird way. It's like finding a friend ten years too late. I smile a little and then... a brilliant beyond brilliant idea comes! I whip my head beneath the booth and look to see if they might have...

And YES! They have!

A field of waxy blue flowers completely take over the underside of the table!