Monday, April 24, 2006
Essay Worth A 90

Well, to be completely honest, I have no intention of letting anyone read this aside from my teacher and my teacher, but all else failed me. I'm typing it down now.

Wait, I could still be stopped..

'Should I type down my essay here for the whole world to read it?'
' *heart* No Question!'


Alright, that does it. Even my magic Date-Ball is going up against me, I guess I'll just have to jam along with it. Here it goes.

This is the unedited version.

True Love Waits
by Ma. Karmina G. Guevarra
I couldn't bring myself to write a poem, a song, or a simple pick up line for it. It's not something that somebody could just write down in a one liner or jsut a mic of poorly rhymed sentences and phrases, no, it can't be that. I decided to write it in this way. Shakespeare couldn't write it straight in one of his sonnets, who am I to put it so briefly. I know I'm facing lazy A's and D's here, but what can I do? the great emotion of Eros is not in my hands.
the thought came into me as I sat there all alone on out porch, oolong tea in hand with a few drops of honey, jsut the right blend of sweetness. Earphones are stuck in my ears soothing me with alternative music I didn't look too keenly into befor and a view only the best of artists can creat and I'm not talking about Da Vinci. Everything fell perfectly, the music, the tea and the sweet post-December breeze. It couldn't have given me and better chance and choice to pin point where I wanted to be that night; sadly, it wasn't there, it wasn't where I was, though everything seemed perfect.
It was somewhere mindlessly between two places of academia that I don't think I'll both be in in the near future. A place I'll be gald to see and a place I'd rather not be caught dead in. Yes, somewhere roughly there. I'm not making sense. I can't try so hard.
How come we all try so hard to make that perfect moment, to make every move just right so that we can look back at a great romance novel written by your favorite writer? i wouldn't know why either, but I'm trapped in that romantci complex. I want that perfect quixotic world. I want it all, and I'm presented with it. I don't want to use the term 'was'. It wouldn't want to. It's too depressing of a notion.
Im's speaking not in retrospect, but in the sense that maybe I'll have that future i want to be looking at as one of my best pasts. That's it, maybe that's what makes love sweeter and at the same time even more foolish. The mere thought that you want to look back at a great romantic memory wit epic proportions. That single memory that ignites your very romantic soul. That soul that you thought you have lost. It's a deadly notion, if one tries too hard at it, to try so hard to steer into that future, they forget all about the present and making so hard of an effort to make it into a great past. You wouldn't know if it hit you hard in the head.
Now, have you ever had that feeling that you are witht the right person, at the right moment, smack dab into the right spot but he's not saying the right words? That feeling of total frustration is filling you up and you want to cry but you don't want to to do anything you'll regret, maybe in fear of loosing the perfect moment, but who would know the perfect moment? The moon is glistening straight into your eyes, its never been so full, Orion is aiming his arrow at you like he was Cupid, but his mind seems to be somewhere else. There you are, waiting for him to put you together and just hold you and tell you those loving words you'd want Romeo to kneel down to you for, but he's not. It's not happening. It's still that friendly waiting air. Yes, that dreaded word: waiting.
One of the worst things that girls can do is waiting and sadly, that's all we do. We want to take that moment and steer it ourselves and do what our hearts are screaming for, but we can't, we have to wait, and wait we will because we always will. Now I know how Juliet felt in that crypt, that 'happy dagger make me thy sheeth', a great foe, but oten times, the winner.
I heard from a very wise woman before, that waiting is what makes it all sweeter, what makes it all worth while and what makes it all the romantic adventrue every Shakespreare ever wanted, but why do I have the feeling that I don't want that adventure? What if I said I wanted to skip the high sea adventure, the rivetting courthip and the heart wrenching moments of pure melodramatic theatre skits? What if I said I wanted to jump straight into the happily ever after? I don't hink that's possible, every great writer there ever was will rise up from the grave and slap me with their quills and inks.If Odysseus did that, what and how would the Odyssey have turned into? if he killed that bard, would Homer have survived? If Romeo could have just changed his name from Montague and went there with a beard he could have just ook Juliet away. Easier ways yes, but romantic, no. The best heroes were always the best of sufferes and the best of sacrifice makers, the best decision makers and the best of lovers, the realists and the idealists,the best of both worlds and the best of Olympus. Why can't it be the best of me though, which leaves me with my last thought: do I want to be the heroine or the damsel in distress?
I wouldn't want to answer that question now, because if Ido, I'd be lyiung. I'd be torn into lying and telling the truth. I'd be torn between being a hero and being the damsel. There's something I want from the two, but I'm not quite keen and clear on which I want to be, I'll just have to guess in time right?
Looking back, I want to ask: What happened to me? What kind of Cupid hit me now and turned me into a hopeless romantic? I used to right words of folly and of tragic ironies, now I'm trapped between a mix between a Shakespeare and a regular Picasso! Now I feel like I'm my words of folly, trapped in great proportions I'll never understand and between thrashing waves and turbines of emotions I'll be crushed into. I'll never be free of it, no, not until I have that dance, not until I have that moonlight and not until I have that Sleeping Beauty Myth, a kiss. Now all I havae to do is wait for Orion to shoot his arrows and Sirius to retrive it to his side, but I don't think I'll let Sirius do that. The arrows stole something from me, now I want it to steal something from him. he asked me what I thouhgt, but I said it would cost him a penny and a dance, you have to pay the price.

Kim zzz...3:20 PM

slip into the night...

He Says, She Says

Lights will guide me home... I'm alright... I'll fix you...

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The Duchess Syfu
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Inez's Cosmics
Tortuga's Gise

Thank You
Mona lisa is the property of the lourve.
Da vinci Code belongs to danbrown
This is meant to be an artistic statement, and not a personal attack on anyone.