Cheating the System

The other day a guy in my class was talking about how he was in a "perfect" relationship. Nothing could shatter what he and his girlfriend had because they could equally and peacefully share starbursts. She liked the yellow and orange and he liked the pink and red. I like the pinks and yellows but that's beside the point. It seems something too simple to base a serious relationship on but it got me thinking...are relationships really just an opportunity to take advantage of the other person's stuff? Dating could be looked at more like shopping. You would pick out your mate based on their dvd collection or impressive amount of classic vinyl records rather than the person themselves. That might sound awful to say but give it a chance. It is a relationship with all the great stuff and none of the fuss. No emotional baggage or excessive drama just a simple act of tradesies and when its over you come out on top with the complete third season of The Office. Sounds like love to me.

Poetry. But not the mushy gushy love kind.

In my Creative Writing class we finally started the unit I have been dreading all quarter. The poetry unit. Now, I am no Shakespere, in fact my rhyming skills wouldn't even sell half-priced children's books. But in an attempt to be more vulnerable I am going to share with you what I came up with. For the first poem we were to write and describe an inaimate object and the second was about a time when I, or someone I know, met someone famous. So enjoy my attempt at being that dark beret wearing cool girl who snaps. So dramatic.

Fuck Me Pumps

Dark, smooth satin wrapped seductively around
a four-inch heel. The body draped in sequins.
They had complete sexiness. Total power.
Undeniable appeal and above all else
they gave way of complete vulnerability.

They appeared simple. Long narrow stilettos.
But to her they were something more. They had the
ability to transform her slender frame.
Change her into the woman she longed to be.
Glamorous and Dominant. Confident and Sexy.

She placed them tenderly on her feet and felt
their cool embrace against her skin, it frightened her
at first. Their power was overwhelming.
Her once 5 foot 7 inch form stood triumphantly
at a new height. Reflecting herself in the mirror
hoping tonight would be the night she had longer for.


Up Against the Ropes

He approached me like a strong gust of wind.
Powerful. Humbling. Strange. Unlike any I had seen
before. I hoped he could not see the fear
I tried to mask with excitement.
A monster, nearing half way of 7 feet
and what I could only image
to be 300 pounds. Hulk Hogan.
With a God-like disposition
he swallowed my hand in his own.
I felt powerless and afraid.
I heard the faintness of his soft voice speak.
The sound was slight and gentle like the
hum of a bird. He spoke with grace and
intelligence. I enjoyed to be
in his presence. Inspiring.
I know nothing of the sport. But he is
understanding. We keep each other's
company, neither wanting to leave.
Yet we part with niceties and go
our separate ways. Hulk Hogan. How Strange.