I see you with your palms in your pants but me, see me, I got the world in my hands.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

039. People do not like me while I sleep.

Im sure of this. It seems to be that whenever I rest my head against a pillow someone calls my name, calls my phone, hits my sidekick, orrrr shakes me until I wake.

Finals are so over. I'm excited for some break tiiime! =]

Last night I hit up a birthday dinner in the city. We went to a verrrry good mexican place. It was a lot of fun. I made some bad decisions aaaaand didnt feel so hot after dinner. It was still a blast from what I remember. Huge...huuuge shout out to jennyson. She took good care of me and woke me up for work this morning. I wasnt quite sure what was going on...but she had it covered.



HeyHi. Darcie thinks I'm cuute.













=] aha.













my seastars.


















I run on zero hours of sleep.


















Smile.













Audrey stole my one eye trick.













We are lookers.













Dani got all scared.













Happy Birthday Jenny!!!!














Jennyson.













The REAAAL one eyed trick.

















I love this 7 year old with all my little heart.














Halla.

















My sweatshirt says "all i need is basketball"...i thought it was dope at the time?










Lastly, I went to church this evening. I haven't been there in a while and it felt extremely good to go. As I was listening to the homily our priest mentioned that he had part of a poem to read. Me and poems...so I listened up. There is this famous spanish poet by the name of Cesar Vallejo. He wrote a very good poem called "our daily bread". If you have some time check it out. One part stood out to me indefinately. I'll share it instead of a playlist this week. It kind of means more.

"Every bone in me belongs to others;
and maybe I robbed them.
I came to take something for myself that maybe
was meant for some other man;
and I start thinking that, if I had not been born,
another poor man could have drunk this coffee.
I feel like a dirty thief . . . Where will I end?

And in this frigid hour, when the earth
has the odor of human dust and is so sad,
I wish I could beat on all the doors
and beg pardon from someone,
and make bits of fresh bread for him
here, in the oven of my heart."






sooyaknowitonlymeansonethaaaaaang.

1 comment:

SammySingh said...

I hella like your sweater!