Poem of the Day: A Reflection

750 days later

On the 23rd of December 2014, I began a project I expected to last a week at most. I'd been posting my writing online for about four months by that point, and after my fifth poem of that week, a friend of mine posted this comment:

"It feels like you upload a poem everyday now!"

I decided, in an irrational moment, to take this as a challenge. And so began my seemingly fruitless task - to write a poem every day for...well, as long as I could. Now, 750 days later, I think it's time I reflect on the process.

As I started, I had things stacked in my favour - Christmas was two days away, New Year a week after that so I had more than enough ideas to keep me going for a while. But I wasn't optimistic - every attempt at keeping a diary I'd made fell flat almost immediately. During those first few weeks and months, it wasn't particularly difficult to think of, or find, new topics to write about. It was unusual to go through a day without something interesting inspiring me to write during the day. So I got through those months with little trouble - and by then the commitment was made.

Of course, the more I wrote, the harder it became to write originally, and some days I just didn't want to write anything. But in sticking to the challenge I set myself, I found a sense of self-improvement. Trying to find a different subject for every day forced me to get inventive, more observant and more insightful. I'm glad it did, over two years on, I see the world in a completely different way. I see more shades of the same colours, I notice more details, I find meaning in meaningless moments and, more than anything, I connect with the people around me much more easily.

These days it is difficult to walk through the city centre without someone standing out in the crowd - someone you might not even look twice at, but who gets me thinking: Why are they in a rush? Why aren't they in a rush? Are they upset or just tired? Who are they looking for? Where are they going?
And from these simple questions a whole plotline, a hypothetical story, forms around them. It really helps me to appreciate the incredible uniqueness of each life around me.

The real question I have to ask myself is this: Would I recommend writing a poem every day? Well, I think the answer is very firmly 'maybe'. I wouldn't recommend it if you're the kind of person who takes a few days to think something over and perfect it - to consistently write every day requires both a willingness to write a few low-quality pieces and the ability to finish something and not really touch it again. I'm a strong believer in writing straight from instinct to the page and not thinking all that much about form. Not to say I don't think about my word choice - of course I do - but I don't let myself become obsessed with syllable counting or rhyming structures, the focus for me is always on conveying my meaning in the way that feels right. I would recommend trying it to anyone who wants to challenge themselves, or who wants to improve their discipline or time management.

If you're not sure, try it for a week, if you think you can do more, keep going for a month. And if, after two or three months, you haven't run out of ideas - make a commitment to keep going for a year. But however long you try it for - even if you just do one poem - it is worthwhile, and if you keep going, the sense of achievement at each milestone - 50, 100, 200, 300, 365, ... - is immense. I wouldn't say writing a poem every day has changed my life, but it has left a meaningful mark, a record of my existence - and a way to reflect on how far I've come in 750 days.

What now? - Responding to a Trump victory (as positively as I can)

Dear America,

Before I get into this, I have to tell you two things:

1) I am not American

2) I didn't support either candidate, but considered Trump the worse option from a global perspective

This morning, Donald J. Trump was the surprise victor of the Presedential Election. In the end, whoever won would be in charge of a divided nation. After the election results came through this morning, I saw a lot of despairing, a lot of fear and a lot of anger at the outcome. Whether or not you support Trump, there is clearly a very negative atmosphere in America after the election. Either way, there was going to be animosity and a greater divide than after almost any election before it. But the nature of the candidate who won has shocked the polls, the world, the left-wing, right-wing and centre-ground equally. And that's because this election was fought so differently to any other, it was personal, it was about establishment versus anti-establishment not liberal versus conservative. Whoever you voted for had a dodgy past, whoever you voted for wasn't perfect and whoever you voted for was something new. Trump's route to presidency was paved with outrage, scandal and appalling treatment of women and minorities. Yet somehow, he won. So how should a reasonable, decent person react to that?

Well, I saw a tweet not long after the result was announced that read "Trump didn't win. Racism won. Sexism won. Hate won. Lack of education won." Now...while I understand the point they're making, I think we need to rationalise a little here. Voting Trump as president does not mean everyone has to follow his opinions. Trump may be racist, he may be sexist, he may be hateful and he may be ignorant. However, 52% (roughly) of voters did not vote for him. And of the 48% who did, a significant portion disagreed with most of the outrageous things he said - Trump was the protest vote. We saw it in the UK with Brexit, people are sick of things as they are so they vote for whoever says they're against the system. It doesn't make every Brexiteer (I hate that word by the way) a racist, nor does it make every Trump supporter a bigot.

Sadly, it is likely that hate of all kinds will increase in the coming months. Trump serves as something of a justification to hold views that most decent people find outdated and unacceptable. And sadly, it is likely that minorities such as the LGBT+ community and Hispanics will face legal challenges that many thought were left in the past and may have reason to be fearful for both their future and their safety. However, this is not the time to give up on America and call it a lost cause. This is not the time to give up on equality because too many people don't believe in it. This is not the time to give up on women's rights because Trump has no self-control. This is the time when standing firm is more crucial than ever.

Remember what the Democrats have been saying all this campaign? "When they go low, we go high."

When hatred grows, it is never defeated by hate. Strengthening the divide between citizens is not the answer - labeling those who hate as 'the other ones' is not going to stop them from hating. When hatred grows, we need love. We need compassion. We need solidarity. We need to work together. You cannot change the result of the election now, but you can change your country. America is a country that proclaims itself 'Land of the Free'. If you can't be proud of the country you are now, be proud of the country you could be. You can Make America Great Again, but not by building walls. By building bridges.

When you see hate, stand with the hated. Speak up for the rights of your fellow citizens, even if those rights don't affect you personally. Value the friendship, company, love and custom of every human being the same as any other. Engage with those who disagree with you and work towards a common goal. Let the success of the next four years be the story of a divided nation working together towards understanding against a tide of ignorance. Laws are important, yes. Who makes the laws is important, yes. But laws do not stop decent people being decent.

In short, fight fire with water. In the face of a turbulent time, weather the storm together, not judging, not hating, not blaming one another. Don't focus on vengeance or bitterness, by all means get angry but use that anger to drive positive change.

Please, People of America, do this right.



Sincerely,

A citizen of a country that did it wrong.

Stumbling through

Structure ain't everything

Poetry is, in my humble opinion, about the closest we get to reading the mind of another human being. If you know me, you'll probably know I write a lot of it, as I write this I've opened up 651 windows into my heart and soul. A fact that fills me simultaneously with pride and dread that one day a psychologist might read these things and lock me away until I stop. The sad thing is, most people's experience of poetry is...well...dull. You're given a poem and instead of appreciating the beauty of the words, or the emotion, or the intention behind them, you have to find the similes, metaphors, onomatopoeia, rhyme scheme, structure ...etc. And by the time you're finished, this wonderfully crafted chunk of feelings is deconstructed and boiled down to a list of features and individual words. That's not the point.


Poets do not sit there with a checklist to make sure they include the 'power of three' or alliteration. Yes, sometimes they're there, but they're woven into the fabric of the piece. Saying that a poem is effective because of the techniques it uses is like taking six strings and a plank of wood and saying you have a rock concert. The poetry is in the fingers on the strings, how they move and where they go. Poetry is the acoustics of the hall and that feeling in your heart when the music hits you just right. A microphone is not a song; words and rhymes are not poems.

Why the rhymes?

On that note (get it?) I'd like to mention that, as a general rule, I hate rhyming in poetry. When I write good poems, it flows from my hand quicker than the ink from my pen. I don't stop to consider my choice of words unless I'm saying something risky. When my poems rhyme it's because they rhymed in my head first, and often they rhyme just the once. Now, not all rhyming poems are bad, but an awful lot of them are either too forced or have sentences in weird orders or lose impact by having a word like 'flight' where they could, for example, say "...danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings...'" That phrase ironically comes from a poem that does rhyme ('High flight' by John Gillespie Magee, Jr) and is one of the few that I do like, because the rhyming doesn't get in the way.


I do sometimes, despite my attempts to have a liberal attitude towards structure, consciously use rhyme or alliteration or even a syllabic count on occaision. And that's fine, I'm not going to see that a poem uses rhyming couplets and refuse to read it, not at all. But if those things obstruct the message or the beauty or the honest outpouring that flows into the stanzas of a meaningful poem, that's when I get annoyed. So many wonderful poems are spoiled by structure (don't even talk to me about acrostics, it is my belief they were invented just to give words like yoghurt, zebra and xylophone a chance to see light), which is why I am a massive advocate of free verse.

Your turn

Here's my point, if you want to write a great poem, write how you're feeling. Or describe something amazing or troubling or ridiculous you saw today. Use the techniques you learn at school but do not think about it, those techniques work when they are natural. And poetry doesn't have to be deep, it doesn't have to be symbolic, sometimes blue curtains are just...blue. Write poetry for yourself, don't worry what anyone else will make of it, that's what I've been doing the past 651 days and the amazing thing is that people relate to it. Other people feel the same way as you, or remember feeling the same way as you, or want to feel how you feel in that moment. Ain't that incredible? You can write something, maybe it takes you a few minutes or a few weeks, but you can write something that shows someone else how you see the world. And when they say "I know that feeling" doesn't it make everything seem just that little bit less lonely? I wish more people got to see the thrill, the incredulous excitement of being taken on a journey through someone else's soul, of reaching out and touching another human's heart with simple words.


So please, write messy poetry, write poetry that makes no sense, write in circles or backwards or in the shape of a flame, trip over your words and forget to check the rhythm. Life ain't perfect, so poetry about life shouldn't be either.

The flow of a river, smoothing out the

Jagged path it carved generations before

Beneath its surface things glide and twist and scurry

Blind to the hurry of the ebbing stream

And birds gather upon its banks

Resting on branches broken one way or

Another to give them a better view

To their piercing eyes the gentle surface

Never changes for beneath is their reward

But the fish and birds see not the same

Stream as I. No,

For when I step back and watch for the

Sake of watching, and the wash of constant

Trickling soothes my ears,

And the reflection of the sky is

Dappled on my eyes, only then,

Is the river a river and not a hunting ground.

Other lives

People watching

One of the things that has always intrigued me is how my life is so important to me, but to anyone else is almost meaningless. Aside from a fairly limited group of friends, the vast majority of people I see every day wouldn't even class as acquaintances. To those people, rushing past in the busy city centre, I am nothing. And to me, that random couple across the street are just scenery.

When I think about the number of people who have glanced at me without caring, or pushed past me, or stepped to one side to let me past, I realise how unthinkably large the number of people I've been in contact with is. So I decided to start taking note.

Instead of ignoring the people I don't know, I watch for a little bit (not in a creepy way) and try to work out what's going on in their lives. For example, that man holding two cups of coffee, who's the other one for? A friend? A partner? Is he just so tired he needs an extra cup? Or that woman adjusting their suit, why are they so worried? Maybe they have an interview? Or a date? Or they just want to look smart? I don't know but it's fun to come up with ideas.

So many things that I see have such stories behind them. An idea I've entertained for a while is writing a story where random people in the street take over the narration and become the main character. Unfortunately I don't have the free time or the patience to work out such a complex story - but maybe one day I'll give it a go.

Funny looks

If you've ever gone out somewhere dressed in an extravagant or unusual way, you may well have experienced this for yourself. I'm talking about the times everyone seems to glance at you as you walk towards them. There is definitely a 'weirdness threshold' (as I will call it) beyond which you will find yourself the subject of a large amount of attention. Through extensive research* I have identified a number of criteria for reaching this threshold.

*Extensive research may or may not be extensive and may or may not be research.

Disclaimer: If you use my techniques I take no responsibility for any funny looks, confusion or laughter caused

1) Outward vs. inward

To seem weird enough to be noticed, the weird aspect of you must be something visible. For instance, wishing you were a purple jelly bean, though sufficiently weird, will not gain the focus of anyone around unless you actually paint yourself purple or wear a jelly bean costume. The most obvious things to the average passer-by are clothing, anything on your face and how you are moving. Wearing strange clothes, heavy/vibrant makeup or large piercings are good ways to reach the threshold. Walking with a limp or skipping will often be just as effective.

2) Range of notice

To reach the great heights of the weirdness threshold it is important that your weird aspect must be visible from far enough away for people to notice as they hurry past with their busy lives. Writing "Hello, I'm Bob" on your forehead can potentially draw attention, but not if you write it too small. 

3) Extent of weirdness

At some levels of weirdness, people will not take notice. It is possible to be fairly weird without getting more than one or two looks. Take leaning on something for instance:

As you can see, the first posture wouldn't draw attention, the second might a little bit, but the third has passed the threshold and would be noticeable to anyone nearby.

Fear

Sometimes I get scared of being around lots of people. I know that I'm different to a lot of people - there aren't many who seem to be a completely different gender at the weekends - so I'm often worried people will look at me and think: "freak". Of course, most people don't look hard enough to notice anything odd, so my fears are often misplaced. But sometimes even being in a crowd puts me on edge.

The urgency of everyone rushing past, as if anything in their way would be pushed aside or trampled over without thought. It sets my heart beating faster than my panicking footsteps, one step the wrong way and I'm suddenly in the wrong place at the wrong time. I try to keep my head down and my path straight. But it's not just crowds that scare me...

I find it hard to do many things in public. I'm not sure if that's because I'm British or because I have some kind of social anxiety. One of the things that makes me stressed is paying for things, not because I don't like spending money, but because I take so long to get my money out and put the change in my wallet. I can feel the person behind me get more and more irritated the longer it takes.

I try to avoid at all costs the complication of pubic bathrooms - whichever I use I risk being kicked out. If I'm presenting as fully female, it makes sense to go to the women's but, if someone realised I am not biologically female I could be in a lot of trouble. If I go into the men's it is likely that people will think I'm a girl and therefore I shouldn't be there. So I avoid it as much as I can.

I suppose one day I will become more confident in these situations (and many others) but for now it makes going anywhere pretty stressful.

Our world is full of expectations and eyes, social constructs that tell us how to act, interact and feel. Sometimes I wish I could ignore them more easily.

Creativity

Self-criticism

It's often easy to be self-critical, particularly if your interests are creative. There's no way to definitively measure success when it comes to the arts, which means writers, artists and musicians tend to spend a lot of their time convincing themselves that they'll never make it. I consider myself very lucky in that I have both academic skill and creative skill, but it is far easier to know how well you're doing at say, physics or maths, simply because you are either right or wrong. Meanwhile, though I can measure how many songs I've played or how many poems I've written, I still have no real grasp of where I stand in the grand scheme of things.

I have found myself on many a night staring at my as yet unpublished poem of the day thinking: "Well this is terrible." But by that time it's too late to start again, so I click 'publish' anyway and punish myself internally for inflicting such words on the public. Of course, I am always assured that said poem is better than I think, but the more I read it the more I see problems with it.

It's the same with drawing, I've finished sketches fairly happy with the result, but the more I look, the worse it gets. In the end I try and fix the mistakes and more often than not find myself longing for a real life undo button. And of course, no composition is ever perfect, it never quite sounds how it does in my head.

Now, obviously it is important as any form of artist to know when something is too far gone to be worth pursuing, but we all, collectively, find it very difficult to believe that our work is worth it. The sad thing is, ideas that could become masterpieces can be thrown away in a moment of self-doubt.

Selective hearing

The easiest way to find out if what you're doing is any good is to ask someone. Getting a new perspective is always useful, whether they like what you're doing or not. Now, the problem (certainly for me at least) is that we're naturally very good at hearing criticism and a little deaf in the praise department.

A hundred positive comments don't have nearly the same impact as one or two negative comments. Thankfully, most of the time, the comments I get are either positive or constructive rather than "this video make me sick" or "wow this poem sux" etc. But when someone tells you that your work needs improving, it can stick in your mind for a lot longer than someone saying it’s great. Perhaps it is modesty, or a fear of seeming too full of yourself, but receiving feedback always seems to turn into another chance to beat yourself up.

Of course, we should listen to feedback, but we shouldn’t let it take over what we’ve done – and sometimes, we need the confidence to say that actually it’s better like this. You are the one in control.

Education

Over the past years, particularly in the UK where I live, there has been a certain reluctance to acknowledge the arts as ‘real subjects’. Students are often encouraged to take sciences or maths (and yes, maths has an ‘s’ at the end) simply because they are the ‘core’ of learning. I’ll try not to get too side-tracked with a rant about education (I’m sure it will be covered in many, many future blogs) but the fact is, the system in this country works perfectly for people with a certain kind of mind, but horribly for people with a different kind. What I mean by that is, if you can memorise facts, use maths with ease and visualise scientific concepts, you will breeze through school with flying colours. If you can’t, you’re pretty much screwed. It’s not fair, because there are whole generations of people who have amazing talents who believe they are failures.

When I came to choose my A-levels I had a lot of pressure from all sides to take a lot of subjects. I’m not saying this to boast, basically I have the ‘right’ kind of mind for school. I knew I was going to take Physics and Maths already – I had very little choice and no real objections to that – but my other two subjects came down to my decision. Now, anyone who knows me will know I am absolutely shocking at making decisions. I’m the kind of person who can spend a good twenty minutes deciding which sandwich to get for lunch (egg & cress has its merits, but is it really as filling as chicken? I don’t know! Maybe I should just get both – but then that’s too much! What do I do?!). So choosing between all my options was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. The day before I made my decision I was convinced I was going to do French and Chemistry as my other two subjects – after all, two sciences, a language and maths would look great on a university application – but on the last day, I happened to notice the Creative Writing course. I looked into it and I was sold – this was perfect for me! Then I spoke to my music teachers and I realised that I couldn’t bear to leave it behind. So I surprised everyone by being one of the only straight A* students to choose two art subjects. Best decision of my life.

For the sake of my sanity, my workload and my development into “maturity” (I use the term loosely) I could not have chosen better. I have come on tremendously as a writer and music has been a sanctuary that I could not have managed without. What I'm trying to say in a kind of weird and tangent-filled way is this:

The art subjects may not look as good on a UCAS form, but they are incredibly valuable and we cannot allow creativity to die. Most importantly, taking an art subject doesn’t make you lazy or stupid – it makes you different in a way that really should be celebrated.

So what's my point?

Whatever it is you're pursuing, creative or not, it has to start with the confidence in yourself to be able to make it. I’m not saying just write a novel without changing a word, but sometimes we need to take a step back from all the negativity and just look at what we’ve made. Allow ourselves that moment to appreciate what we’ve managed to do, without worrying about that word which doesn’t quite flow in chapter 6 or that line that’s a little wonky next to that tree. Creating art is not about perfection, if it was artists would have been replaced with photographers long ago, it’s about doing something no one’s ever done before.

And that is something to be proud of.

Words

Personal meanings

At the time or writing I have just got back from a party that reminded me how much I love my friends. We're all way off what anyone could consider normal and really there's no explanation as to how we all fit together, but we do. As a general rule our conversations start with a kind of awkward phase of people trying to work out what everyone wants to talk about, before descending into an indescribable phase of rambling, tangents and word creation.

Now this got me thinking, after today inventing the word 'puddleskip' I wondered how much of what we say to one another means absolutely nothing to anyone else. Our in-jokes have become so extensive that they now make up the majority of our conversation. For example, a conversation could run like this:

Me: What are you doing?

Laurie*: Feeding Seb's friends

Seb*: But I wanted that

Me: None for you

Seb: All for me

Ozzy*: But did you have exact change?

Seb: Exact change

Laurie: Everyday

Me: Fuduckulous

*All names have been changed to characters from my books

Which of course makes absolute sense to all of us and sounds like the the gibbering of the mentally deranged to anyone passing by (which is quite probably a more accurate description). The simplest moments have become so engrained in our conversation that we will never forget them. I'm sure this is not unique to my friendship group, but it does seem to be a great way to remind each other of the good times.

I suppose the question is: Will I still remember these words in 5 years? 10 years? 20 years?
Perhaps not, but I like to think that one day I'll look back - maybe even at this blog post - and I'll see one of these meaningless words and I'll be reminded of these days. Will I even be in contact with anyone else who understands them? I like to think so, but if I'm not, maybe I'll call them up.

One word

As a poet I know that just one word can have the power of a thousand others, that's why I spend so long deciding if I've got the right one. What I have come to realise is that actually, the words which mean most to me usually mean the least to others. Some people's eyes are drawn to different letters or different shapes to mine, which makes my job quite difficult - trying to create something that other people can appreciate, not just me.

You may have seen one of those word-searches on Facebook (or your social media platform of choice) which says something like "Comment the first word you see". While being fairly pointless it can be interesting to see how differently people look at the same jumble of letters, often people comment with words you may not have noticed at all. How accurate as a psychoanalysis test this is remains to be seen, but I know there are certain themes I am drawn to quicker than others. (Rather worryingly a lot of those themes include death and blood...)

Another interesting one is word association, which has been used as a real test of mental state. I know that if someone says to me "shimmer" an image of water is instantly brought to my mind, whereas if someone said "glint" I'd think of something metallic - a car perhaps? Subtle differences between words make a big difference to how people think about what you're saying.

Oh, on a side note, whoever said "a picture is worth a thousand words" clearly didn't realise the wonders you can do with the English language.

Memory

I remember things in images, I remember words by how they look on a page and music by what my hands looked like when I was playing. This means that most of the things I remember, I remember very vividly.

This has its upsides and its downsides.

It's great for remembering diagrams and formulae in school, it's fantastic for recalling details about somewhere I've been and it's perfect for when I've lost something - I just get a clear picture in my head of what I'm looking for and look back at when I last saw it.

Unfortunately, I also have crystal clear memories of my darkest days and nights. I can see the look someone gave me when they told me they hate me, I can visualise every millisecond of my first breakup and don't even get me started on horror films. 

Also, I don't remember spoken instructions anywhere near as well as I remember written instructions (not helpful when, for example, asking for directions). 

I find memory a curious thing, sometimes I try and to explain to myself how it is I am 'seeing' both in my head and in real life at the same time but in the end I give up and just carry on my day. Being so perfectly in two moments at once is rather confusing when you start actually thinking about it. As I type this, I'm hearing me saying the words in my head as they appear on the screen and I have an image of myself walking home back when I had the idea for this blog. How do I do that? I haven't a clue! It really starts to mess with you after a while.

Hive mind

Writing, in a way, is the collective memory of humanity. Everything we put down on paper or into a computer is a unique collection of words that can allow someone else to think what you were thinking when you wrote it. It is what separates us from so many species - we have a (fairly) permanent record of the past that we can build on without having to start all over again.

I like to think that the things I write now will one day help someone understand what life was like for me, or delve deeper into the ideas I rambled on about. In a funny way, a writer never dies, their voice can still be heard hundreds of years later, still passionate or fearful or full of wonder. I suppose that's what keeps me going sometimes - the knowledge that what I care about will be remembered because I wrote it down.

This is why the words "I can't write" bother me so much. Everyone can write! Everyone should write! If for no other reason than to be remembered, write.

I'll leave you with a quote that has filled me with optimism and self-belief every time I see it:

"If you want to write, you can.

Fear stops most people from writing, not lack of talent.

Who am I? What right have I to speak? Who will listen to me?

You are a human being with a unique story to tell.

You have every right." - Richard Rhodes

Now...to my dreams.

- Parsavagely Hayashi

Hello!

This is me

Well, here we are, my first blog post! I hope this will be the first of many and I will do my best to keep to my self-made schedule of (at least) one post a week.

I decided that the best way to start this blog would be to tell you a few things about myself. If you're here from Movellas or from my YouTube channel you probably know some of these already but I'll try to include some more obscure facts.

My name is...

So we'll start with my name, which is actually a little more complicated than you'd think. You see, I am transgender, which means that my body doesn't match my gender. For this reason I use two names: Stephen (my birth name) and May. The name May was suggested by a close friend, but what neither of us knew was that, had I been born a girl, my middle name would have been May.

What do I do?

Well, currently, I am studying Physics, Further Maths, Creative Writing and Music at college. I sing and play piano, trumpet and guitar. What I spend most of my life doing, however, is writing poetry. I write a poem every day, to varying degrees of success, and I intend to keep doing so for as long as I can. I have written and self-published a book, but this isn't the place for self-promotion.

I'm also very passionate about equality - particularly for the LGBT community - so I try to do what I can to raise awareness of these issues. 

My dreams?

If I could, I would love to make a difference to the world. Of course that's a crazy and rather predictable dream, but I'd love to help make the world a better place somehow. Perhaps one day I might write a story or poem that speaks to enough people to change attitudes, or maybe I could invent something. I don't know, but I know I want to make an impact. Maybe one day I will.

And a few random facts

- I'm 6 foot tall

- I have grade 6 in singing and am working on my grade 8 at the moment.

- I was obsessed with lettuce as a kid (which has now been replaced with an obsession with parsley),
- I was born two minutes after my sister.

- I have played a candlestick, a frog, a liquorice allsort, a hippie priest, a thug and Beadle Bamford on stage

So! That's a bit about me, future posts won't be like this, but I hope this has been interesting enough to keep you interested in my life.

Now...to my dreams.

- Parsavagely Hayashi

Poem of the day: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1531645/distraction/