The Masquerade of Ink

Ink flows as a trickle from this pen
onto these sheets of white.
I fall,
and flee my prisons of painted self-portraits.
My mind has become an unreachable end.

A maze of eyes stares,
blinded from paintings unprepared
for my audience.
Their claps orchestrate a silence
as unreal as my smile,
pasted to bleed my identity.

Emotions stretch thin,
and resemble my chaffing lips,
that writhe monologues
my audience cannot decipher.

Light floods my eyes.
My lungs breathe in burning truths
buried before me in faces,
in smirks,
in realities.

Revealing curtains are drawn
on my stage
as my blood flows poems
I shall never recite
to You,
my Audience.

In silence,
as my blood trickles ink,
I'll write.
I'll wither.
I'll fade.

Negatives in Candlelight

Dried petals
lay discarded and decrepit
on the floor.
Like the memories I
used to moisten
with my tears,
those flowers lay dead
with years
of neglect--
Just a fading memory
of a mistake.

Blog, Take Two

The Attic

Old clothes
lay under years
of memories.
Ripped and torn,
they lay unworn,
unused.

The mismatched socks
no longer search
for their pair;
the shoes no
longer wish for
new soles.

The sweaters
have succumbed
to moths,
their fabric punctured
by time.

The clock ticks away,
uncaring and numb
to its dilapidation.

Threads lay unraveled
and frayed,
no longer desiring
refashion.

Change,
you are unwarranted.

Time,
you are unwelcome.

Inconsistency

Apparently I am unable to keep up a blog.

This may or may not have something to do with the fact that the entirety of my blog account is still in Danish for some reason, thus I cannot read anything or figure out how to do anything. In fact, I'm surprised I've gotten this far.

So much for dedication to writing.

A Few Things I Just Don't Understand About Denmark

1) How well-behaved all animals are. People just leave their dogs outside of stores in carts attached to their bikes. They don't go anywhere, and they don't bark. (!?!?!?) I've only seen two people walking their dogs with leashes since I've been here. Riley most definitely wouldn't last a day.

2) How Danes do the same thing (as mentioned above) with their children.

3) Why they love snow so much.

4) Their milk. I'm pretty sure I'm drinking the equivalent of whole milk when what I really want is skim milk, but I really don't know for sure. It continues to be a mystery.....

European Germs

Well, it was inevitable. Even though I'm equipped with my bottle of Airborne, I am officially sick.

I don't know why but for some reason I picture European germs conspiring with French accents donned in striped mime clothing with curly mustaches. "We are going to make ziz gil, ow you say, SICK wiz er fist Danish cold. Quick Louis, get into er sroat and infect ze tonsils which are no longer der! It will be, ow you say, MAGNIFIQUE!"

Yeah...I don't know where I get this stuff....

Finding a box of tissues in Denmark has proven itself an impossible task. Sick sans Puffs. What SHALL I do!?

Blogging

It has come to my attention that after two weeks of my study abroad experience, a blog is necessary. There have been too many moments that I realize must be recorded somewhere, and too many situations that have been too ridiculous not to write down. Therefore from this moment on, I am officially a "blogger"--a member of that large and perhaps somewhat unwelcome group of individuals who flood the web with their (unwanted?) opinions and observations about the political, economic, and social climate. This is at least, my perception of bloggers. I realize not all bloggers must be this way, and perhaps actually having a blog will help me reconcile myself with the blog and the blogging community. We shall see.

I'd like to thank CNN, Fox News, extreme Liberals, and extreme Conservatives for ruining my opinion of blogs. Anderson Cooper must of course, be excluded from this.

Do not expect eloquency or rapturing tales. Do not expect correct grammar or thrilling accounts of dare devil stunts. In fact, do not expect a whole lot. This blog is and will always be, a documented series of the awkward moments that comprise my life.