The Season Rubs Me Wrong

Hello there! I'm going to have to keep this post a bit short seeing as I really should be reading write now and have class in an hour and a half. I've been doing a lot of thinking and worrying lately, as I'm sure you guys have noticed through my posts. And, as I was watching Glee last night (I know, I know), I had a moment of self-realization. Basically, I really just want to be a better version of the person I am right now. I've been feeling, thanks mostly to school, that I need to change myself. That who I am is not good enough. That I can't be shy or reserved, that I'm too introspective, and various other things. And the thought of that really upset me. After thinking about it though, I don't have to change anything about myself, I just have to better myself. I am shy and awkward, and I'm okay with those two traits being indicative of my personality, but I don't want them to limit me. I don't want to have a whole ton of regrets in a few years, or even worse, think that the people who were trying to get me to change. Instead, and this may very well be all talk, I want to just be a better me. Let's see how that goes, hmm?

Top: Salvation Army
Cardigan (See, I really did wear it 2 days in a row!), Skirt, Boots: UO
Tights: Hue
Belt: Delia's






Also, I was talking yesterday about my "hobo poem," and I did end up writing it for my class later today. So, since I have to share it with my class, I thought I should share my strange introspection with you guys as well. Basically, a homeless man bumped into while I was downtown, and I felt a bit, well, grossed out, which I then felt horribly guilty about. Also, I had to use 6 words from a list of about 20, so some parts aren't how I'd like them exactly. Well, here goes

Dear Homeless Man Who Bumped Into Me on Third Avenue,


Where are you going, and with what?
Flying like a lark in winter,

Above the stone city’s sidewalks, moving as slowly
As a cutworm with your portable shopping cart.

Your eyes were empty as craters
As you walked by facing backwards,

Lured by a gentle precision,
Careful not to lose anything.

Then, your shoulder hit my shoulder
As gently as a dropping eye lash.

I felt guilty as I clutched my arm,
like a fresh wound had started to burn, and again

When I saw that your face, crimped with age,
Looked more like the sun than the moon.

The way you commanded your cart,
More like a Roman chariot now,

Shot through me like a cold wind
Leaving me stopped at the curb

And you, paces ahead, moving forward
With life etched in your palms.



Thanks for reading!

Until tomorrow,
Nicole