:)

a BOY and a GIRL looking at each other.

He: What are you looking at?

She: The beginning of a very long love poem.

He: Psh. How long?

She: At least six stanzas.

He: That’s not very long.

She: (Indignant) Yes it is!

He: (Sadly) Oh. How does it end?

She: “For time and all eternity.”

I don't know why, but I wrote this and it reminded me of Siri Johnson. I love you girl. :)

Poem for No One

Poems are like letters never sent.
Is the point just to tell the little worlds inside us the secret of ourselves?
"I feel this way, " I say to 'this way'.
"Good," 'this way' says, "Thank you for figuring it out."

I am now satisfied.
I shrug.
"Hum... 'this way', huh? Okay."
And I keep on going.

And the VMA goes to...

Um. Wow.

Transcript:
Say Yes
when two violins are placed in a room

if a chord on one violin is struck

the other violin will sound the note

if this is your definition of hope

this is for you

the ones who know how powerful we are

who know we can sound the music in the people around us

simply by playing our own strings

for the ones who sing life into broken wings

open their chests and offer their breath

as wind on a still day when nothing seems to be moving

spare those intent on proving god is dead

for you when your fingers are red

from clutching your heart

so it will beat faster

for the time you mastered the art of giving yourself for the sake of someone else

for the ones who have felt what it is to crush the lies

and lift truth so high the steeples bow to the sky

this is for you

this is also for the people who wake early to watch flowers bloom

who notice the moon at noon on a day when the world

has slapped them in the face with its lack of light

for the mothers who feed their children first

and thirst for nothing when they're full
this is for women

and for the men who taught me only women bleed with the moon

but there are men who cry when women bleed

men who bleed from women's wounds

and this is for that moon

on the nights she seems hung by a noose

for the people who cut her loose

and for the people still waiting for the rope to burn
about to learn they have scissors in their hands
this is for the man who showed me

the hardest thing about having nothing

is having nothing to give

who said the only reason to live is to give ourselves away

so this is for the day we'll quit or jobs and work for something real

we'll feel for sunshine in the shadows
look for sunrays in the shade

this is for the people who rattle the cage that slave wage built

and for the ones who didn't know the filth until tonight

but right now are beginning songs that sound something like
people turning their porch lights on and calling the homeless back home
this is for all the stuff we own

and for the day we'll learn how much we have

when we learn to give that stuff away

this is for doubt becoming faith

for falling from grace and climbing back up

for trading our silver platters for something that matters
like the gold that shines from our hands when we hold each other
this is for the grandmother who walked a thousand miles on broken glass
to find that single patch of grass to plant a family tree

where the fruit would grow to laugh

for the ones who know the math of war

has always been subtraction

so they live like an action of addition

for you when you give like every star is wishing on you

and for the people still wishing on stars

this is for you too
this is for the times you went through hell so someone else wouldn't have to

for the time you taught a 14 year old girl she was powerful

this is for the time you taught a 14 year old boy he was beautiful

for the radical anarchist asking a republican to dance

cause what's the chance of everyone moving from right to left

if the only moves they see are NBC and CBS
this is for the no becoming yes

for scars becoming breath

for saying i love you to people who will never say it to us

for scraping away the rust and remembering how to shine

for the dime you gave away when you didn't have a penny

for the many beautiful things we do

for every song we've ever sung

for refusing to believe in miracles

because miracles are the impossible coming true
and everything is possible
this is for the possibility that guides us

and for the possibilities still waiting to sing

and spread their wings inside us

cause tonight saturn is on his knees

proposing with all of his ten thousand rings

that whatever song we've been singing we sing even more
the world needs us right now more than it ever has before

pull all your strings

play every chord

if you're writing letters to the prisoners

start tearing down the bars

if you're handing our flashlights in the dark

start handing our stars

never go a second hushing the percussion of your heart

play loud

play like you know the clouds have left too many people cold and broken

and you're their last chance for sun

play like there's no time for hoping brighter days will come

play like the apocalypse is only 4...3...2

but you have a drum in your chest that could save us

you have a song like a breath that could raise us
like the sunrise into a dark sky that cries to be blue
play like you know we won't survive if you don't
but we will if you do
play like saturn is on his knees
proposing with all of his ten thousand rings
that we give every single breath
this is for saying-yes
this is for saying-yes

Pipe-cleaner hearts.

Today I bent up about 50 neon pipe-cleaners into the shape of hearts and hung them on little branches around campus as I walked from class to class. Solicited many smiles this way, but I'm pretty sure I also gave my name to an administrator who may or may not be out to get me for this. She seemed legitimately "foofy" in some respects, claiming that she was going home to blog about this later, smiley, wondering what made me want to do this... But--she also (for some reason) asked for my name. Sketchy. I know she's going to turn me in, whether that's to the Vandy authorities or into a blog entry, remains to be seen. At any rate, she sort of ruined my fairy-mood with the implicit threat of human practicality.

Why? There is no why. I just wanted to hang hearts on the bare twigs. It's my way of loving people.

My consolation was that when I finished and went back to my room, I saw a girl-photographer already taking advantage of what I had done. I wanted to thank her for understanding, but that would have positively ruined what I was doing.

Who knows from whence magic comes?
Who needs to?

Thank you for understanding.

Ha. Ha ha. Haha ha.

Listen girl. boy. whichever.
You are serious. That's for sure.
Life isn't a joke and you're figuring things out.
And you're right about a lot of it.

But remember when you learned the most?
You were dizzy and laughing.
That wasn't a passing lesson.
It's a lesson we all keep learning.

Think think think.
Alone. With others. Alone.
Seriously. Life is so intense.
But you...
You are not.
Not always.

You are not always peering.
Trying to get to the middle of things
Remember when you used to glance.
Glance and on the surface...
Look.
There is understanding on the surface.

You used to glance and have immediate ideas.
You used to skip and get to school on time.
Remember?
Skipping?
It is like speed-walking.
But more fun.
And less serious.

Look.
Yes,
You're learning things.
Wonderful things.
Soulful things.
But!
There are other things.
Remember the parts of life that showed you who you are.
And what you're in love with.

Remember running to a math class.
A school girl.
With an idea.
An EXCITING idea.
And knowing that we were going to light up the moment you spoke of it.

Remember enthusiasm.
Not just ideas.
Remember your fiery passions that lasted only a day.
Not just the ones you'll take with you.
Remember screaming and laughing so loud you got embarrassed.
Not just the coffee-shop discussions.

Remember, O remember.
The good times.

And remember.
O remember:
Your love to create.

And go out again.
Become foolish.
And trust me:
You will remember.

Because when we were silly, outlandish, and running amok.
We were still sincere.
It is all real.

A Walk

My eyes already touch the sunny hill.
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has inner light, even from a distance-

and charges us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on
answering our own wave...
but what we feel is the wind in our faces

-Rilke

The more I read and think and write, the more I come to believe that a poet isn't a repertoire of fancy phrases; she is a napsack of feelings.

The Fire in Me

Who am I? What do I want? Where am I going and what are my demands on life? What makes me tick?

I am trying. Trying, trying. So many things. And trying to perfect myself. I want to be the best version of Brittany that could ever be possible. I want to happen to life; I don't want life to happen to me. I don't want to wake up every morning and just live because it's required or because that's what people do when they're awake. I want to have a reason! I want to know exactly exactly exactly why I'm walking to class or work or wherever. Because I want to. Because my insides point there. Because that's where I'd go if I knew everything. I want to believe that. That I'm going to the right places and pushing forward in purpose. I want to do everyday whatever it is God wants me to do.

"[I] believe in being in being honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and in doing good to all men. Indeed [I] may say that I follow the admonition of Paul. [I] believe all things, [I] hope all things, [I] have endured many things, and [I] hope to be able to endure all things. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, [I] seek after these things."

What do I demand from life? Everything. I want life's life. I want us to be in a committed relationship constantly doing everything we each can to enhance each other. I want to be romantically involved with my life. I demand romance. Forever. When I'm alone, when I'm silently walking around, I want to always know exactly what color the sky is, no matter my hurry. And when I get married some day. I want to be two whole people that are not just madly in love with each other, but with everything they discover.

I want to leave this world in better shape than it began in. I want to always forever be a poet. I want to forever be learning and learning about everything. I want to be a manufacturer of hope.


And I will have what I want. Because these are things that can't be taken from me. No one can pull the sky down, or the flowers out, or put the butterflies away. No one can rob me of the option of taking a picnic. No one can take away the way my eyes see or the way my soul feels. And that is a beautiful security.

RAHHHHHHH

Clayton cancelled. He "doesn't like cameras" and doesn't know how I got him to agree in the first place. BUMMMMMMMERRRR. But filming went awesomely in spite of his bail. Just... yeah, somewhat disappointed.

I'm especially sorry to Casey, Justin, and Abelle.

Sequel of "The VandyEdward" Installment.

Do you remember VandyEdward?
I'm sure you do... Silly question.

Hayden, Erin (new girl in the ward), and I are making a music video for a church activity coming up. To be honest, we've all been itching to make one anyway, and this just gave us the final push to get on with it already. We were struggling to come up with a song, when wonderful-wonderful Hayden says to me: "What about 'Decode' by Paramore--the Twilight song?" I immediately and without any control over it became maniacally excited and in a fit of joy that I think I blacked out for, I text my friend Clayton.
That's right people--the Vandy Edward himself. (haha, sorry I'm so theatrical, I'm just trying to help you find the pocket of excitement which are my insides right now. Moving on...) What did I say to him, proper and correct and seemingly unfoolish Clayton?
Stupid: I straight up ask him. And tell him my happiness depends on it.
Oh gosh.
But wait: He says, "Then it's settled. As long as I don't have to do anything too unreasonable." (key word here for me is "too". Something moderately unreasonable is okay, right?) And then, "What is it I'm supposed to do?"
Already I am climbing up the never-ending beanstalk of excitement and am much too far up to come down, and I cannot fathom him rejecting my proposal anymore. So I blurt it out: "Haha. Um... Well... We are planning on playing up the fact that you look like that vampire guy ((casual sounding, no? :))) and that I look slightly like the girl."
Him: "Oh... I should have known. Where is it being distributed?"
Me: "Just some people from my church"
Him: "Oh, ok. Should be alright then."
Me: WIN-OF-LIFE.

So basically: At the many requests of Anabelle and Casey, I am finally going to be able to share him with you via online media. And how better to do that than to put him in the context in which he belongs? (There is no better way. FYI)

I will have whatever life I am willing to have.
I think I want a simple one.
with lots of magic.

What matters to me.

Today in my ethics class we started to talk about Stoicism. It brought to mind two questions for me:
1) What matters most to me?
2) When I achieve these few things, am I then content, joyful, happy, what-have-you?

My thought process is this: shouldn't I be in a state of happiness when I have or am working towards all things that really matter to me? And shouldn't everything else be insubstantial when considered alongside those greater achievements? For example, I care about God, family, love, virtue, and making the world better. So if I am cooking and I burn the food or cut my finger none of those things are affected, so shouldn't I therefore go on being happy. It seems like this should be the case, but how does life really work??

I think that parts of this philosophy are very very strange, but the broad idea of not allowing my days to be ruined by things that I'm honestly not concerned about in the long run is a good idea.

Love

He doesn't know.
...Finally something I can show him...

checkmarks and things like silence

That [was] the moment that matter[ed].
That [was] it.
That was the one that lead to this.
My defining moment.

O, I can remember it.
The short Greek man demanding answers
As he went to go press STOP and REWIND and PAUSE.
And I was silenced.
Infuriated by those mouths that broke down the logistics.
This is more real than reason and theory.
This is real. Those are lives.
Can we settle down with our entitlement for one second,
To commune with those bare feet?
Can't we please be shocked by this?
Silenced.

But I do remember another,
Sitting on a bench under a willow tree.
And he was staring off into a place he understood.
Into the place he was going.
And I. I know I felt the place there with him.
It was the first time I ever listened.
And I couldn't remember anything.
This was the only moment that existed.
Because I suddenly had tunnel-vision for him,
And whatever he was telling me.
I only know that I was listening.
And saying nothing back.
Silenced.

Then to go on.
Dressed in white and listening again.
To a different sound.
Even more silent than before.
Me and the voice I heard.
Both of us--Silent.
Silent and feeling.
And dripping with importance.

Each moment to another.
All defining who I became.
What were the moments I missed?
...Almost all of them.
Who am I becoming?
I am becoming something. Let me tell you.
This [is] the moment that matter[s].
All of them do.
This [is] it.
My defining moment.

Be harmless as doves.

There is something ever more beautiful inside us, a person.

What above people can be called beautiful?

Yes, alone, I can see it too in things.

In messes, in nature, in careful art.

But a person is all things.

We are helpless little things,

Plopped down into this world,

And we are all ushered along a timeline.

On our timeline we run into stuff,

Bumping a situation, a person.

We are acted upon.

Now: make sense of it all.

But I look around and say,

“What’s going on here?”

We all go our way,

Go it with and without fear.

But go we must.

And feel we will.

And hope and love,

And fast and still.

Then just try to imagine,

Looking down on it all.

Watching them bump along,

And hoping for them, each one.

That they, when they bump,

Or pass by another,

Will please say “Hi” and smile,

And lovingly roll along.

That when one is putt-putting.

Fearing, angry, or alone,

The others might bump lighter into him,

And whisper “Shalom”.

We can do so much by stopping to say,

“I’m here, and I care, and I’m listening.”

And you’re there and you’re imperfect,

But I see that I am too.

There is no reason for me not to love you.

There never has been,

And also there never will be.

So we are destined to forever collide,

But pass along an envelope with this message inside.

We all are here together and can’t help the lot of it,

And we will love each other without command or fit.