Thanksgiving last week

I never ended up writing about my Thanksgiving, because I was to busy relishing "my" time. But here a few photos to give you a feel for what it was like.

Fooood glorious foooooodddd, I'm willing to try it! (That's a song, by the way.)

I am a Human

I met Mr. Wits End today. I saw him coming. I even saw the sour red-faced look he so clearly aimed at my face, but I didn’t try to avoid him. In fact, I gladly collided with him, and his provoking sneer transferred readily onto my pained face. He’s not a very pleasant sort of character to be around. His sudden outbursts follow with a stream of unheard-of remarks that were never meant to be put into words and shot recklessly at opponents. His constant rolling eyes and stabbing comments confuse, bewilder and scare me, even though I know it is not he, but I who am saying such awful things.

I finally flew off my hinges today. Audrey and Will were infuriating me, teasing, and fighting, rolling their eyes and exchanging looks and smirks whenever I’d say something utterly ridicules in my rage. I wanted so badly to hurt them somehow. If not physically, then emotionally, or something that made them sit back stunned and think about what they were doing and for what reasons they were doing it.

I don’t know why my nature is when someone hurts me, I instantly want to hurt them back, so as to make them feel my excruciating pain. I guess I'm just human. Bad excuse.

I want to cry right now. I want to let out all the frustration that’s been building up behind my carefully white-painted brick walls. Focus. Focus on the good. Focus Ellie. You can do it. You can defeat Mr. Wit’s End and pull out of this dank grave you’ve so readily flopped yourself into. You’re not hopeless. You have a life. You have friends. You have talent. Even if you don’t know where it will be used, you have it. I run these things through my head; like an Espionage memorizing every step and number of information crucial to his life; cramming it into my head; forcing myself to believe the false tasting words off my acerbic tongue.

This is not a rant, nor a rave, but rather a beseeching petition to no one in particular; a thorny problem thrown out into a cosmic world, full of confusing questions that one day, I believe, will be eternally answered.

Thank you, you’ve been my tyro who probably knows more about me and the world then I’ll ever know.

Oh Ellie, Oh Ellie! Where art thou Ellie?!

!Warning!: Complaining ahead

Do you ever sit at the computer and stare at your blog, or something you just wrote? I do. All the time. I sit and I re-read every stinking entry I ever made, and then I critique it until I find that every lame sentence I wrote makes for one humongous trashy post! Awful grammar, spelling, punctuation, and worst of all, awful writing! It's depressing. Especially since all of my older siblings have this knack for writing highly amusing, quality and (at times) wise posts. Yeah I know, they're older, but somehow that doesn't help. Boy, being negative really doesn't help either, does it?

Okay I admit, I read a whole book last night. I was awake until 4:30 AM.

You know what I just realized? I realized that this is one of those posts that will look like I'm complaining, because I am. Sorry, don't worry, life is a whole lot better then I make it out to be. Journals and blogs are just the places I go to lament about my life. You know the complaining debut. Feels good. Sometimes. No response needed. :)

Another Poem

Night

She grabs and she gropes for the radiance before her,

Her fingernails scrape valleys of dark,

Throwing sinister strands of gloom about her,

The presence of light sends her reeling with curse,

Sneering and spitting her spiteful ballads,

She hoists herself up between mountains she's stable,

Casting ebony shadows she bellows at the sun,

Bragging her dark bitter song,

Living things stand frozen with fear,

Until no more one sees the lights gentle sway,

She'll not stop till it's done.