brandon.elliott

When It Rains

2011-09-10T15:28:00.000-07:00

When It Rains

by: Brandon Elliott

So you're not perfect, but you act like it
nothing ever changes but we try
So it's okay, but you don't act like it
I can hear the shame when you sigh

I have faith in your sadness alright
and I trust that you won't succeed
So if you were wondering how I sleep at night
It's like the mindset of a hairline when it recedes

I'm not really that into myself,
I think maybe we should break up
But I'm stuck in this relationship
and I'm sinking to the bottom of the cup
drinking holes into my liver
Passed out, but I can hear "get up"
and I'd get up, but my feet don't touch the bottom of the river

So you say I have a knack for disappointment,
and I'm "like really not that cool"
So I'm not going to this appointment
and maybe I'm just a fool, but

You're perfect to me, but I don't act like it
And we can change the world while it complains
So it's okay, but not exactly like it,
I see your pain in the sky when it rains

Something, I Think

2011-07-06T22:17:00.000-07:00

By: Brandon Elliott
Something that's supposed to make you understand
Something that's meant to leave you scurrying
I think I'm finally ready to let go of your hand
I think it's about time that I stopped worrying

Something that makes you, breaks you, hurts your pride
Something that explains the way you make me feel
I think you're interesting, but I think our souls collide
I think you like the way you've watched me heal

Something that's happy, sappy, just for no reason
Something that's sad, just to keep you real
I think going against you might be treason
I think I like the way I watch you kneel

Something to metaphorically, rhetorically explain it
Something to synthetically, regrettably re-create it
Something to pull you away from doing nothing
Something to make you, mayday, make you feel something

I think you're thinking, sinking way too often
I think your thinking's shrinking, you're starting to soften
I think you think you've wasted way too much time
and if you're willing to fall, then I'm willing to climb

Something to panic you, something to panic me,
Something to think about when you're thinking of me

Hung Read Red Dreams

2011-06-27T14:57:00.000-07:00

Hung Read Red Dreams

By: Brandon Elliott

Stop talking.
Stop

The noise is too sickening,
cutting through the air-
like a knife through a finger
"God, I can't find anything to wear"

There's a closet, it's full
tags still hanging on their strings
but it's not enough
it's not enough,
she's a high-class bulimic, she
pukes diamond rings

So I start drinking, it's apparent
I'm not fit to be a parent

"Shut up, stop talking"

Stop talking.
Stop

Her hand sliding down my stomach,
my hand sliding up hers
A television screaming in the background,
commercials are the worst

So I start thinking, it's conclusive
the DNA results will be inconclusive

"Stop!"

She's not talking.
She's not

The noise is like gunshots through air
Each fractal contracting, then splitting
My headache is splitting
Bang, bang

Spewing
Gunshots through her ear

Is that weird,
is that weird
Even the mirror is scared

So I start blinking, blinking
flashing lights that reveal
A flash of light re veils
my thoughts, life's plots,

an anecdotal fear

Stop talking.
Stop

They might hear
They might care

Digging ditches
Ticking ditches at the side of the road
wouldn't listen, wouldn't explode

So I filled it with the lies she told
and covered them up with her dead body

So I

I woke up, and I realized
this was all just a dream
or maybe, it was a metaphor
for my lack of self-esteem

So we met at four, at the church we
got married at,
on her finger, the diamond ring

and I brought a gun, and some rope
and some paper to say goodbye
because this time I'd be
sure

She'd stop talking
these hungried red dreams.

zzoness

2011-06-06T20:43:00.000-07:00

zzoness

by: Brandon Elliott

So clearly we've faded, lately we're jaded
These memories we've created
won't last very long

You say life's not forever, you're not very clever
Might as well, might never
You just sing along

To the depths of tomorrow, your eyes full of sorrow
"Can it wait until tomorrow?"
it's not like I care

Blurred thoughts, we're aware, everyone is scared
It's as if every line that we carefully prepared
possibly might be something, but we're too shy to share

Running from the edges, cradling the ledges
If only it was, if only it is
if anything at all was good

Sharpened to sell, our lives all for sale
Skin so burnt, skin so pale
we all struggle, understood

zzoness that move you, zzoness that shape you,
Grab my hand and don't let go,
if there's anything that you should know,
it's that I'm not permanent

Fast Forward / Rewind

2011-04-24T20:34:00.000-07:00

Fast Forward / Rewind

By: Brandon Elliott

and we'll run away while time is mending

Your self-esteem is so condescending;
Love itself is so conditionally ending
So condescend me, without intending
and we'll stare down your worst fears

Every single panic
Every single up all night thinking
If our souls aren't looking; if they aren't sleeping
Then exactly how often are we blinking
and are we manic?--

And when did forgetting become so understood;
Where do feelings go when they fade
You shouldn't, but if you won't, someone should
and are we trying to continue or trying to evade

and who really cares

Because magic moods eat away at our pride,
and even though the dialog is kind of boring,
We're all just along for the ride

If your eyes are open, and they're somewhat starry
You're staring, but sometimes you feel kind of sorry
Why can't we ever be sure?

and why does it feel like we're in a war?

Though the blurriness is dreary, we're still alive
and everything's going to be okay,
but I thought about you again today
and it seems like we're just living to survive

Don't take it for granted, it's never what it seems
I hope that these words make it into your dreams
because it's really only you that I adore
And these sleepless themes
can't explain the deadened screams
and just to spite you, I plan to make it something more

Your thoughts condescend, your esteem depends, all of this to you is kind
But let's take a risk and as your memory ascends, fast forward and press rewind

and we'll run away while time is mending
and we'll stare down your worst fears
and are we manic?--
and who really cares

We're all just along for the ride
and why does it feel like we're in a war?
and it seems like we're just living to survive
and just to spite you, I plan to make it something more

More or Less or Nothing At All

2011-04-22T15:36:00.000-07:00

Cloudy eyes, countless lies, her anger gets in the way
If shallow breaths were consonants, I'd have nothing left to say
The champagne skies, the morphine drives, it's nothing but a sin
These thoughts, they drip, scream, hurricane, seems like it's never going to end

I whispered in your ear, the morning dew glistening
and you weren't listening
and I don't know what else to do

I fainted from the realization
that you were just another temptation
I guess I make mistakes too

Is the sun really smiling?
Or is that just a childhood art trend
And is the moon really sleeping?
Because tired hearts don't like to mend

And I think that what I think doesn't matter
Or maybe it's just my thoughts trying to scatter
Because if I don't start running soon, you will

And I think you had a lot to do with nothing
Or maybe we're both being stubborn
Because everything you do is just for the thrill

Stinging veins, burning flames, her shame hardly even exists
If cataclysm had any reason at all, the reason would probably be this:
The buzzing brains, the hangover pains, we're only trying to escape
But if you leave yourself behind, you'll find
a wreck tangle's not only a shape

The Reality Labyrinth

2011-02-09T00:03:00.000-08:00

Brandon Elliott
English 1104
February 9, 2011

The Reality Labyrinth

When you think about America as a labyrinth, an intricate maze of corporate funding and Monday night football games, an excess of distractions, expensive cars, and so much food that we go hunting on full stomachs, all of these privileges suddenly seem to be strung together by the one fact that we subconsciously love to ignore, and that is that we’re all passengers of the same sinking ship and we don’t even realize it. The subconscious efforts to ignore this fact are based on a media-driven warpath, sheltered by buying and selling, and from the time we were born into the “safe sphere” until the time we either choose to come out of it, or don’t, we are not really in control of ourselves. We’re controlled by the things we buy, the things we love, the things we believe, and the things we do—and this reality is one, whether we realize it or not, that’s created and maintained by the pain, suffering, and loss of others in less fortunate realities. To quote Isaac Newton, “For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.” This is a well-known scientific truth, but the question is—Does it translate into an emotional or mental truth as well? Is our happiness a result or a cause of someone else’s sadness? Would we be able to live in the “fantasmatic scream” if others weren’t living in extreme poverty and slavery? And if not, how are we supposed to step out of this “bubble” in a way that is comfortable to us and beneficial to the world around us at the same time?

John Green, a well-known novelist, said “Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia. (...) You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present.” The modern age has created a certain aspect of escaping and creating your own truth, and using that to get through the day, so that even if blood is being shed for the diamonds that we wear on our fingers, the same fingers that might even be responsible for the death that produced them, we can look the other way and still go to sleep at night on our comforters and Giorgio Armani sheets. It’s because of this that reality is a matter of opinion, and the internet is just one of many perfect examples of such obliviousness. As soon as we get home, many of us go online and check our Facebook accounts. The majority of the posts there are probably about how we had a terrible day because we stepped in a mud puddle or something mildly dramatic like that. The reality labyrinth, as I like to call it, is something that fools you into thinking you’re bad off, when meanwhile, you have it ten times as good as the person who sewed together the soccer ball you played with when you were a kid or the Nike shoes you wore to kick it around with. And still, somehow, it’s not even our fault that the shades have been pulled down over our eyes.

When we turn on the television and change the channel to the latest “reality” TV show craze, we are examining how the labyrinth works. Real people with real lives act on “reality” shows (that are actually just as fake as other television shows) to relieve other people of their own realities. It’s a vicious cycle that, unless you stop and think about it, you don’t even know you are a part of. The media has a certain effect on our irreal society which blurs the line between entertainment and education. We learn from ridiculous television shows such as “My Super Sweet 16”, which focuses on throwing the most extravagant and outrageous sixteenth birthday parties ever thrown, whilst basically teaching viewers indirectly that they need to have a party that costs upwards of a million dollars; that money buys happiness. Between commercial breaks, sponsorships, and shows created for the sole purpose of selling more stuff, by the time an avid television watcher enters “the real world”, they are primed and prepared for the consumerist society in which we live in. Our entertainment feeds our selfish habits.

The movie “Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps” displays the mindset that is supposedly needed to make it big in Western Civilization. The first idea proposed, simply by the title, is that money is everything. The second idea is that money is everything and nothing will stand in the way between a backstabbing, lying, and generally bad person, and their everything. In the film, Gordon Gekko is a macho stock trader that is quoted as saying “Bulls make money. Bears make money. Pigs? They get slaughtered.” In the irreal realm that is America, we are full to bursting with bulls and bears and our comfortability level is so incredibly precious and ridiculous that we even pay other bulls and bears to slaughter the pigs for us, in places that are convenient for us even if it’s extremely inconvenient for others. We don’t, in any real fashion, observe any of the pain that is caused by our happiness, because the media is controlled by the government, and if morale is low, the economy is low. When we’re happy, we buy. When we’re happy, America is.

And so this reality labyrinth, in my opinion, will not be escaped by any of us that are living in America, because to survive we must take part in it. It’s in our blood, it’s in our souls, it’s in our minds, and to destroy that, we must be destroyed. Every Roman Empire must have its downfall, and in our case, I believe that we will go down this path, surrounded by a bubble of unawareness, surrounded by wealth and scripted television shows and haste, until we’re drowning in so much bad karma, that like the Titanic, we sink and forever remain, much like our lives, a fairy tale with a sad, sad ending.

The Deconstruction

2011-01-26T14:21:00.000-08:00

By: Brandon Elliott
It started off with a one-man band. A
cataclysm of power and a strengthened hand. The
subconscious efforts to release the blame? Well
they could hide the greed, but not the fame. They
shouted loudly and they were afraid. But
their voices carried a lot of grief and shame. And
without an ounce of energy to save, He
laid down and died in his self-made grave. We

remember him to this day, but we forget. The
most important things are self contained. Let
us ask questions so we'll always know. Why
do we release our feelings but we never let go? I
think it's time that this one-man show, Takes
a different route and, for once, says no. But
the deconstruction of a hidden flame, Can't
escape the reality of a bunch of fakes. Who

do we go to, when we have no one? Who
do we go to, when we're running from the sun? To
know everything is not very fun. So
stay unaware and inflate your ego. Then
when you remember this next sentence, You'll
feel okay about what you've done. When
we have no one, we go too far; When
we're running from the sun, we forget who we are; To
know everything is to know nothing at all; So
when you feel small, remember, compared to
me, you're six feet tall.

Particles

2010-11-03T18:58:00.000-07:00

By: Brandon Elliott
I am just a particle
in a sea of infinite boundaries
Floating, shouting, opinionated
though nobody ever agrees

I am just a particle
small and breathless and tired
Every idea I've ever had
failed and died and backfired

I am just a particle
though I can try to be something more
the soldiers I've waged against gravity's grasp
will surely lose the war

I am just a particle
and yet there's possibilities
Universes have been created and destroyed
by the rage a particle has seen

Contagious [Part 20]

2010-11-01T18:05:00.000-07:00

Chapter 3

As I gathered kindle and fallen branches to use to start a fire, Lauren told me more about why she had run away from home. This satisfied my interest, but it made the air seem fuzzy, like I couldn't concentrate because it was just too overwhelming.

It was cold outside, and it was going to get colder and soon.

I could already see my breath.

With a profound kick, I broke a long, skinny branch in half.

"My mom doesn't understand me. It's not that I don't like her. I mean, she can be annoying sometimes, but I like her for the most part.

She just got a new job," she explained.

I figured listening was the only way to really get to know her so I lit a match and got the fire going while she talked.

"Her new job requires her to travel throughout the country. She'll never be home anymore."

"Does that make you mad?" I inquired.

"No, it makes me sad. I don't have a father. So I would have to choose between going along with her, or staying with my grandparents."

"What happened to your dad?" instantaneously, I knew that I shouldn't have asked that.

She just stared at the now blazing fire.

I sat down beside her.

Sometimes I wonder about parents. They can be ridiculous. They raise a child, or several children, perhaps, to be just like them. But the truth is, we're not like them. I'm sure their parents did things that they didn't like, and they probably swore up and down that they'd never make their kids feel like their parents made them feel. And I wonder if any parents ever held up to that promise. I wondered if I would be just like that. So naive.

"I'm sorry," I told Lauren.

"Where do you think my mom is right now?" she asked.

A voice behind us grasped onto every hair folicle on our neck with a sudden shout. "Wanna find out?"

We looked at each other, looked backwards, and then looked at each other again. The voice came from a beaten figure. Trampled, with his life halfway exhumed from his spirit. I could tell he was desperate for help and meant no harm. It was Kris.

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Shallow-Eyed Solace

2010-10-06T08:07:00.000-07:00

I've been waiting far too long,
for that darkened dream to glow
That stagnant stream of sanity,
it's never been so slow

I've been standing on this thickened ledge,
of stacks, of crates of empty
All but one has misunderstood,
and though no one ever gets me:

I've seen shards of glass,
seen muddied traces of fast
And have never been warned by them

Nor have I looked, and out of spite
Turned away from the mayhem

I've been shallow all of my life,
from standing with my eyes half closed
Peering between them, never stifled
Just another day disposed

I've been waiting far too long,
for my chance to stop and go.
This poignant past of pessimism
Is like solace to the snow

Online Fakes: Their Fault or Ours?

2010-09-26T15:20:00.000-07:00

This is a subject that all people online should be aware of, but unfortunately, most people don't quite understand.

What I mean by an 'online fake' is someone that makes a profile on a social networking site using someone else's pictures, and a lot of times, a whole new identity to go along with them. Recently on Twitter, fakes have become more and more prevalent. When Myspace was in all of it's glory, there were thousands of 'fakes' on there also. (There probably still are, but most people don't use Myspace anymore)

Fakes are actually easier to spot than one might think. Using the two most recent examples from Twitter, both being users with over 3,000 followers and over 10,000 followers, these were online identities that played to the emotions of thousands of teenagers.

Let's explore the first example. This user was a classic case of "I'm sick, feel sorry for me." Unfortunately, when people get attached to people they've never met, seen, or talked to in real life, they will believe anything the identity says. During his stint on Twitter, this user had several dead siblings, multiple tragedies, quite a few surgeries, about 5 different diseases, and probably 3 resurrections. After reading all of those 'disasters', you might be wondering: Who in their right mind would fall for that?

The answer: teenagers that get attached.

In fact, the people that were attached to 'him' (it actually ended up being a girl), actually attacked me for speaking my mind about 'him', which, mind you, ended up being completely correct.

The second example was actually one of my close friends. She told me after it was revealed that she was a fake, "I wanted to create a perfect world away from my real life."

Which leads me to the question from the title of this post:

Is it their fault or ours?

Knowing that most people create fakes because they're insecure, let me ask you this.

Is it their fault that their looks aren't good enough for today's society?
Is it their fault that we judge people by their looks and not by their character?

The same old story happens after these popular fakes are revealed. All of their online 'friends' and 'fans' say "I'll still be friends with you, I don't care what you look like." I know for a fact that that is complete bologna; and that statement actually makes me mad.

Realize this:

If they hadn't created a fake identity online, you never would've gotten attached to them in the first place!

You know why? Because we judge books by their covers. Because we get attached to people that are popular. Because we like feeling sorry for people. And this is what a lot of teenagers fail to understand these days.

I wish all fakes would find the courage to use their own identity online. I wish they would find people that like them for who they are and not for what they look like and not because they are supposedly dying.

If you're still reading this, I know you've heard this 1000 times, but I guess it doesn't hurt to remind you.

It's the inside that counts. Period.

Sep Timber

2010-09-20T14:49:00.000-07:00

By: Brandon Elliott

Filtered through the footsteps,
walked a thousand miles;
tried to catch my breath, but
lost my grip all the while.

I shouted with sincerity,
even whispered when it was calm
Where did forgiveness disappear to?
-- Before you detonate that bomb;

If I could do anything good enough
I'd do it all for you.
If I could take back yesterday,
If I could collect the morning dew:

I'd save you in a heartbeat,
with a chin held high and strong.
I'd take the blame for everything,
I'd sing you your favorite song

I dissected the world frantically,
even set my mind ablaze
What would it take to rescue you?
-- Before you blow up those roadways;

If I could help you in any way,
I'd do it all the time.
If I had no pennies left to give,
I'd give you every dime

Filtered through the emptiness,
how far is there left to fall?
tried to catch the leaves one by one
You probably don't even recall

Give them an inch, and they'll take a mile
so I'm just giving it my all.

To Night

2010-09-14T20:50:00.000-07:00

By: Brandon Elliott

Tonight, I can't go to sleep, Tonight
I can feel you slipping away
And it might be me, it might be me
It might be the things that I say
Euphoria drips as I fade, vertigo
It didn't have to be this way

Tonight, I need you here, Tonight
Keep your thoughts locked up tight
And I might be unaware, might not be aware
I might not always be right
Alone, I dream, stagnantly
Maybe I've just lost sight

Tonight, I'm not myself, Tonight
Shouldn't have said a thing
And it might be boring, I might be boring
I might not know how to sing
Predictable, disappointed in me
To Night: You leave me gasping

Candle-Lit Dreams

2010-09-13T14:46:00.000-07:00

By: Brandon Elliott
As a melting fire-painted piece of string
To a newfound scattered day of aging
Until the memories decide to fade
To a mystery stained by secrets, secrets
As a clock would lose sight of the minutes
Backwards, forwards, under the shade

As a fight breaks out, a bloodied lip
To a hypocrite, a truth meant to come to grips
Until yesterday is hung, left out to dry
To a naked willow, stung by a bee
As far as forgotten goes, it's still early
And we're just trying to figure out why

As a drowsy eyed covering, too sad to be afraid
To a candle lit by angst, a burning grenade
Until we don't even know where to run
To an ending that fits, like that lost puzzle piece
As a dying lung finally gives in, deceased
Nothing really ever seems as fun

Get Over Yourself

2010-09-04T08:25:00.000-07:00

By: Brandon Elliott

Couldn't even walk outside
without having peering eyes
reach out from the ground
Couldn't even speak a word
without reality being
turned upside down
Shouldn't have tried to try at all
Should have disappeared
before the storm
Shouldn't have done anything different
Should have been like you
Settled in with the norm
Would've found my peace of mind
Would have enjoyed being like everyone else
Just hold my tongue a little longer
Just "get over yourself"

Couldn't even look in the mirror
without blaming it
all on me
Couldn't even see past the shame
of being someone that
just wants to be
Shouldn't have made myself aware
Should have blinded
the whole damn world.
Shouldn't have thought about all of those things
Should have laughed
and spun, and twirled
Would've rested all alone
Would've resorted to singing a song
Just can't decide how to stop it now
I was "over myself" all along

Focus

2010-09-01T03:23:00.001-07:00

By: Brandon Elliott

Focus on the positive, fight off fear's demise.
Tear off a piece of happiness, focus on the highs.
The sleeping moon will shade your dreams
with violets and a whim.
To hold your own in the rising water;
To refuse to sink, to swim.
Focus on the early morn, be the only one.
Tackle every negative thought, focus on the Sun.
The I Don't Care's will resolve themselves
as "not good enough" fades away.
To juggle emotions as the wind recycles;
To stop yourself, to stay.
Focus on the cancelling, don't be afraid to be insane.
Shatter what you used to know, focus on the pouring rain.
And every connection will come unglued,
every string will tug your Soul.
To be yourself in a world of Don'ts;
to love everything--to lose control.

Sorry

2010-08-30T23:17:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry that you're reading this,
I'm sorry that you care.
I'm sorry that in about five minutes,
these words will disappear.
I'm sorry that the grass is green;
that it's desperate to reach the sky.
I'm sorry that it makes you mad
when all I'm trying to do is try.
I'm sorry that to be loved,
you have to make everyone else feel sorry.
I'm sorry that I gained your trust.
I'm sorry that I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that you're reading this,
I'm sorry that I'm scared.
I'm sorry that I told the truth,
why should I have even dared?
I'm sorry that the world is round;
that it revolves around my arrogance.
I'm sorry that I never win,
and that it hurts to hear your silence.
I'm sorry that I lack the motivation,
to rise against the grain.
I'm sorry that I'm not good enough.
I'm sorry that I'm so plain.

I'm sorry that you're reading this,
I'm sorry I'm unprepared.
I'm sorry that I miss the days,
when no one ever stared.
I'm sorry that I am so shy,
so sheltered and misconstrued.
I'm sorry that you've grown to hate me,
I don't mean to be so rude.
I'm sorry that gravity
couldn't hold me down to Earth.
I'm sorry that my heart's still beating.
I've been sorry ever since birth.

Violins

2010-08-22T11:24:00.000-07:00

Violins

By: Brandon Elliott
Entranced among the dancing masses,
the violins still play.
Wherever you go, the shadows follow
to slow you, to make you pray.
And you can hide, you can cover,
you can even make a run.
But the sleeping greys,
with their fiery passion,
will straddle along the Sun.
The swaying highs and the morning lows,
combined with all the blue,
stops for no one, no matter what
no matter what you do.
And you can hide, you can flounder,
you can even run away.
But then again, it's all the same.
February, March, April, May.
Ten thousand smiles could light the path
with the words that you'll never say.
Entranced among the dancing masses,
the violins still play.

Contagious [Part 19]

2010-08-14T01:30:00.000-07:00

My hands wavered like the trees on a cold, breezy day as I walked down the hallway, step by step. My face burnt like the sun was directly on it, but it was just my nerves' way of telling me I wasn't normal. I was constantly reminded of that.

Every time I blinked I saw him standing there. Traced into the back of my mind, like a tundra's ice-coated memories, I saw him, just as I had seen him the night before. And the night before that.

We were in his car, driving. Not to any specific place or anything, although we did always somehow make our way to The Square. That's what anyone who's anyone called this place by interstate 81, where everyone went to party. The trees surrounding it made the shape of a square. I was smoking my fourth cigarette even though they tasted like the bottom of a burnt garbage can. I only smoked when I was with Ivan because I wanted to be everything that he wanted in a girl. And in my mind, that girl smoked, so I did too.

I remember the song "The Man Who Sold The World" by Nirvana coming on the radio and Ivan turning it up.

The doctor continued to lead Ivan's family and I down the hallway and we finally reached his room. I could tell I wasn't the only one that was nervous because of the way he glanced at us right before we had walked through the room entrance.

In a way, looking at Ivan put me at ease. He looked peaceful. He didn't look like he was in a coma. He didn't look like he could very well die soon.

I sat down on the edge of his hospital bed and tried to imagine what was going on behind the scenes, in the deepest realms of the catacombs rooted in his mind, the only place that he probably felt comfortable. I wondered if he was happy there, and if he could feel my hand resting on his. I wondered if he would leave me, like all of the rest.

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When I Think of Myself

2010-08-04T23:05:00.001-07:00

When I think of myself,
my mind cringes with shame,
while I trace my silhouette.
I wrap the molecules around my mind,
these particles that I regret.
I think of the ugly
that I keep deep inside,
this fear that never leaves.
I think of the love
I've tried to find,
this "love" that always deceives.
I think of the happiness I had as a kid,
a boy living in a
bright shade of grey.
I think of the emptiness
that soon followed,
the kind of knowing that never goes away.
When I think of myself,
I think of the people
that doubted me;
that let me go down the drain.
I think of the people
that inspired me to paint
with words that share a secret pain.
When I think of myself,
I get sort of anxious,
like my thoughts won't be enough.
I think of the time
that I stood on your doorstep
at 2AM, wondering if you were up.
When I think of myself,
I get kind of down,
but I know that it could be a lot worse.
Because after all,
it's proof that I can think,
it's proof that I'm not in a Hearse.
When I think of myself,
I think of you
and how happy we could have been
I think of the flowers I picked for you,
the ones that made you grin.
But most of all,
when I think of myself,
I think of what's to come.
Because from this moment on,
nothing will be the same,
nothing will feel as numb.

Reflections of Imperfection

2010-07-22T18:29:00.000-07:00

With a joyous yell, I throw my arms above my head and spin, somehow managing to be reckless and graceful all in one movement. Tilting my head back, I feel my grin widen, seeming to go on for miles around me. The tall grass sways gently beneath my barefeet, leaning in to brush my shoulders and wrap around my waist. I lower my arms and gently continue onward, dancing through the tall field. The grass twines through my legs, joining me in a waltz to the music flowing through my mind and swirling in notes all around me. I laugh, the sound echoing and ringing endlessly. Gravity shifts and shivers, emphasizing my every leap and twirl. My skin tingles, rushing with emotion and excitement. I'm enclosed in folds of bliss, that guide my feet and lift my arms in steps of harmony.

In the distance, I glimpse a girl's figure, standing beneath the great branches of a willow tree. A gentle tick, tick, tick fills my ears as I stare. My dancing slows, as my gut wrenches me to a stop. I want to inquire further, but an invisible hand pulls me to a standstill. I frown, as my soul battles with my mind, trying desperately to break through the bliss. Finally apart of me surrenders, and the firm grip releases me. I continue forward, my smile returning as quickly as it had left.
The gap between us closes almost instantly, and suddenly I am no more than a few yards away. Her back is turned, and from a safe distance, I study her, wondering if she is oblivious to my presence. Her long hair cascades over her shoulders, falling midway down her back, and meeting the low hem of her dress. The sun streams through the intricate branches, illuminating her ivory skin in golds and pinks. Slowly, she turns around. My breath catches in my throat as I carefully trace the features of her face. Her long eyelashes, high cheekbones and slightly crooked smile paint a mask of an all too familiar face: Mine.
Her eyes cast downwards, and I notice a small stopwatch dangling from a long chain around her neck. Patterns of the past dance across its polished gold surface, all coming together in the center to form the unknown. She lifts it delicately in her palm, before meeting my gaze once more. Apathy swirls behind her bright eyes, colliding with wonder and anticipation. The ticking is louder now, almost unbearable.
Gritting my teeth, I raise my hand in return, and slowly begin to reach towards her. Once again, the slight space between us is reduced, and her own outstretched fingertips are nearly to mine.
The cool sensation of the glass my hand connects with races through my arm, chasing my blood and freezing my veins. The girl on the other side stares back at me with the same bewildered expression that I know reflects my own.
Beneath my soft touch, the glass splinters slightly, cracking upwards. The girl's sad eyes leave mine, as we watch our images of eachother shatter and fall to the once beautiful ground.
I stumble backwards, walking and then running away from the girl, from myself.
Distantly, I notice a loud, piercing noise interrupting the still air. It takes me a moment to realize that it is just my own screams.

Writer: Kaytee McKibben

Pleased to meet you, I'm Kaytee McKibben. I like to write stories, but I'll sometimes find myself writing poetry, if the words come to me. I'm an introvert in disguise. Most people in my life don't know much about me, but they think they do.

Read My Full Bio / Twitter / Blog / Blog Fan Page

The Noob's Guide to Posting YouTube Comments

2010-07-18T15:47:00.000-07:00

Posting comments on YouTube is easy. Sign in, watch a video, and leave a comment below. It sounds simple, but this is where so many people go wrong. I've seen a few people (a few, mind you) leaving NICE comments on videos. What?!?! WTF?! Noobs these days...

Here are 10 helpful hints for leaving comments on YouTube videos:

1. Yu must tipe lyk dis

2. You must insult at least one random commenter.

3. It is highly encouraged that you start an internet argument. Remember, the more insults you can get in, the better. Use a lot of exclamation marks and CAPS to get your point across.

4. Since nothing on the internet is real, say the video is fake. Then insult the person that made the video by questioning their sexuality.

5. By default, the person that posted the video is stupid. Therefore, you should always display your intelligence by insulting their mother and/or threatening to kill their entire family.

6. Remember, your opinion is better, more knowledgeable, and more important than everyone else's. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. If they do, refer to #3.

7. If you're over 30 years old, try your hardest to type with the grammar of a 10 year old. (I'm assuming that you have to try) ..No one likes a showoff.

8. You're perfect, and you make perfect videos. Therefore, you should point out every little mistake that the uploader made. Plus, you know, add a few cuss words and stuff. Exaggeration is key.

9. If after you carry out #8, someone tells you "If you don't like the video, don't watch it", once again, refer to #3. And add in some of the family threatening from #5.

10. If you're not in the mood for demeaning other people, find one of those chain comments that you're supposed to copy and paste or face certain death, and leave it on every video ever made. Everyone loves spam comments!

P.S. Ya dun goofed.

Sticks & Stones

2010-07-13T23:03:00.000-07:00

Image Credit

How many times will you pretend to worry,
and then do exactly what you wished I wouldn't do?
When this journey is over, the records will show,
that I only ever wanted to be with you.
"I don't ever want to lose you" is what I was told,
right before you found somebody new.
And now the sirens are sounding, the world is unraveling,
hope is spiraling down to the ground.
I could go on and on but these words will continue
to shake anxiously from being so profound.
If you only knew how much I've been trying to scream,
but my voice has seemed to lose it's sound,
maybe you'd be the person that I wanted you to be,
someone that tries to stick around.

Your Lullaby

2010-07-05T12:24:00.000-07:00

Indecision mocks your tired eyes as
Silhouettes of your past dance through your mind.

Secrets linger on the tip of your tongue,
Unsure, even of themselves.
Naked, despite the infinite layers, you
Glow defiantly with words left unsung.

Blindly feeling through a maze of lights,
You find that one has gone out.

Misunderstood and sleepy,
You pick her up.

Her silence whispers through you,
Enveloping you in blissful peace.
Artfully molded, you
Resign;
To everything she beholds.

Once Upon A Time

2010-07-03T02:28:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time
there was this boy
with a head full of problems
and a lack of motivation
and no one cared
His father told him he wasn't good enough
and so he believed him
and so he slept all day
and so he never replied

Once upon a time
there was this boy
and this boy had an idea
but he didn't want to be made fun of
for having it
and Everyone told him he was weird
and so he believed them
and so he slept all day
and so he never tried

Once upon a time
there was this boy
with no reason to live
but to be free from death
and this boy had a wish
and he wished it every night
The stars told him that he was okay
and so he believed them
and so he slept all day
and so he never died

Once upon a time
there was this boy
and every time he felt happy
this girl was the cause
He told himself if he could sleep all day
and dream about her
that maybe this dream could be reality
and so he believed it
and so he slept all day
and so he never cried

Once upon a time
there was this boy
and one day he decided to reply
"If I'm not good enough for you,
then you're not good enough for me"
and the night sky urged him to try
His wish came true, his dream a reality,
he lived a wonderful life
The world told him to give up, to lay down and die.
and so he never believed a word they said
and so he slept for the strength, not to hide from the truth
and so he kissed the girl every night

Side of Time

2010-06-27T14:38:00.000-07:00

Winds of ice
rip through the thin fabric of my sweater,
piercing my chilled bones.
In a world of shadows,
I'm all alone.
I open my eyes,
and peer through my eyelashes of snow;
everything is blanketed in a blinding white,
but I know better.
I exhale slowly,
and watch as my warm breath battles the cold air,
spiraling forever upwards.
I raise my eyes,
tracing every peak and curve of the mountain ahead of me.
My heart begins to race,
as my hands begin to reach, without having to be asked.
It's twilight.
The last rays of sun kiss my frozen cheeks,
before disappearing behind a blanket of darkness.
I begin to climb,
my limbs knowing exactly how to bend and twist to meet
every obstacle.
My mind leaves,
swirling into pictures and pieces, trying desperately
to detach.
My heart holds tighter,
as pain and desire rip through my whole being.
Gritting my teeth,
I climb higher.
Reach, grab, pull.
The actions spill over into words,
that I whisper under my breath.
Time disappears beneath my feet,
as my concentration waives.
I feel myself slipping,
but I don't resist.
Once more, I repeat the words,
before releasing my slight grip on the edge.
I feel like a feather,
drifting to earth,
a forgotten piece of a whole, that no longer needs it
to be complete.
The wind coarses through me,
working with gravity, pulling me ever closer.
"No!" I gasp, throwing out a desperate hand.
Crude rocks slice through the soft pads of my fingertips,
as I climb, while falling.
Slowly, my world pulls itself to a halt,
placing me back in time.
Words flow through my mind, and leave my lips once more.
Only now, I am singing new words,
a lullaby of sorts.
Gentle words to remind my heart,
that even though I'm climbing,
it's only to fall apart.

Writer: Kaytee McKibben

Read My Full Bio / Twitter / Blog / Blog Fan Page

Flammable

2010-06-25T17:48:00.000-07:00

Heat. Orange. In flames. In fiery streaks of melting construction.
This world which was once built on a foundation of steel and strength has now been molded into a gnarled remainder of what used to be. There is no light. There are no mirrors.

It's just you, and whatever your outstretched arms can gather. Can remember.

Memories. Flashback. Panic. Colors dance in front of your eyes, back and forth, until the shadows dissolve them just like they dissolved themselves. Absent from absence itself.

I'm walking. I'm walking slowly. But I'm going backwards. I know this because they tell me. Everyone.

I'm surrounded. I try to think. Where did everything go wrong? Was it always like this? Have I always been surviving instead of living?

So I breathe. Inhale, exhale. I close my eyes.

Inhale, exhale.

I'm living. I'm living. Slowly.

Heat. Orange. In flames. In fiery streaks of melting construction.

This world will never change. This world will never be the same.

Inhale, exhale. Just like our parents. Just like our ancestors.

Just like our neighbor who's on the registered sex offender list. Just like the girl that looks in the mirror every morning, every night, every chance she gets, hoping that one time she won't be disappointed by what she sees. The swelter never leaves.

Heat. Orange. In flames. In fiery streaks of melting construction.

People

2010-06-19T16:23:00.001-07:00

Some people are like land mines. No matter how hard you try to avoid them, you'll always run into one of them by accident. And when you do, a reaction happens. A reaction that you're not happy about, even though you try to look at it as a glass that's half full. Sometimes the glass is full of poison. A glass of poison that's half full is just as bad as a glass of poison that's half empty.

Some people are like wind. You can't see it, but you know it's there because your cheeks tell you that something is moving and you trust it. These people come and go from your life. They might pretend to care for a little while, but they're constantly moving, and the best thing you can do is let the breeze blow instead of fighting it off.

Some people are like volcanoes. Deep down inside, the heat is churning, waiting to be released. They hold it in and try not to let it show. But sooner or later, they erupt, and it destroys everything in it's path. There's no way of predicting what's to come. It just happens. And you can't ever take it personally.

Some people are like swimming pools, and some people are like swimmers. On a hot summer day, a pool full of cool water is just what you want. You jump in, and the water welcomes you. You splash around, you go under water, and you enjoy the aquatic experience. But after awhile, your fingers and toes start to prune. You get bored of the pool, and you get out. When winter comes, you forget all about the joy it gave you. These swimmers use you. But the important thing to realize is that other people will come along, and maybe they might stay long enough to get pneumonia.

Some people are like blankets. They keep you warm when you're cold. They are always there for you. No matter how bad of a day you've had, you always know that at night, you can crawl into bed and feel comfort for at least a few hours. Never let go of these blankets, and never take them for granted. Even if they seem worn down, or used, remember that they were always there for you when you needed them.

And some people are like robots. Another face in the crowd. A voice unheard. A shadow of a shadow of a shadow. They go unnoticed. And sometimes they're completely unaware that they are even alive.

Some people are just people.

The Generation of Hate

2010-06-13T08:57:00.000-07:00

Every day I see a thousand new examples of hate. And scattered around those examples are the (seemingly) less popular examples of love and understanding.

It's not even necessarily about what you look like anymore. It's not even about what you say, or how you think or act, or what you do in your free time. In this generation, you could be anybody, anywhere, doing anything, and still be the victim of random and undeserving hate.

Allow me to explain further.

If Gandhi somehow rose from the dead and made his way into this world, he would be hated on just because he was bald, or he was too skinny, or because his thoughts were different from some of the other brainless people on Earth. It wouldn't matter that he was a peacemaker that fought for India's independence. It wouldn't even matter that he inspires so many people to this day. He was one of the most influential non-violent protesters in history, and he would be hated on by today's generation.

It's sickening almost to the point where I just want to scream at everyone that speaks a negative sentence.

So I'm proposing something, for the better of this world, and for the good of this generation. From what I can tell, this generation is going to be put through a lot of difficult times. The world is at a point where we must make changes, or destroy everything.

The changes we need to make are many, and it starts with our attitudes towards other people. I seriously lose sleep at night because I think about these things. People are so quick to judge, so quick to misunderstand, and so quick to speak hateful words.

Am I the only person that remembers learning The Golden Rule in elementary school?

"Do unto others as you would want them to do to you."

Treat others as you want to be treated. We are all born with a desire to be loved. If you want to receive love, you won't do so by treating others badly.

It's really that easy. If you feel the same way that I do, share this with your friends. Maybe one day the negative people will join our side.

We Can Live On

2010-06-11T20:36:00.000-07:00

When we're gone, memories of what we looked like will fade. The seemingly unforgettable sounds of our voice will get lost in the constant noise of the world around us. Our physical sense will be forgotten as years pass by.

When we're brought onto this Earth, we are given an opportunity to create every day, whether we realize this or not. Every day is a new opportunity. And after we're gone, those things we create are the things that live on, along with the way those things made people feel, and how they changed or affected their lives.

There's a certain maturity that comes with this realization. We will all be gone one day, and after you accept that, you start to spend a lot less time criticizing others and putting them down, and you start worrying about how you are affecting the world, and what you're doing with your life.

One of my friends shared this quote with me - "Books last forever. The media will always be present. All you have to do to make a book sing to you is to be able to read." (By the way, if you would register and vote for their book here, that'd be really awesome)

Think about Shakespeare. Think about all of the authors that are gone now, the ones that you read about in English class. What we don't realize now is that we could be those people in a couple hundred years. We could live on. And all we have to do is take advantage of the opportunity.

So, I'd like to take this moment to welcome all of the new writers to the blog. There are 7 of them, and their ages range from 14 - 18. I have picked these writers out of a group of 100 applications, and I have complete faith in their writing ability. Of course, as writers, no one is perfect. Every writer has room to improve.

And I'm just hoping that somehow I can help them do that.

You can read all about each individual writer by clicking the link to their Bio's. You can find those by clicking the "Writers" tab at the top of the right sidebar.

Some of the writers already have new blog posts. If you like what you read, leave comments. The best thing a writer can receive is criticism.

Sorry for being sort of random, but my aunt died today and I just want to say RIP Aunt Martha. I hardly knew you, but from what I did know, you were a hard-working woman. She has been battling throat cancer for the past year, and she deserves the rest. Through me, you will live on. RIP.

Wait

2010-06-10T18:09:00.000-07:00

I'm swimming.
Only, my legs are motionless, my arms stretched out
infinitely at my sides.
The silence is so deep, so compelling.
I reach for it, without moving, I reach with my soul.
I feel myself slipping, into the silence, into time.
Limitless time.
All at once, it's moving too fast, forcing me back into noise.
Your fingers find mine and twine themselves through, effortless.
The silence fades away completely as you pull me out and into
the screaming grey.
Your eyes are locked on mine, but you don't see me. I look
desperately for myself, but the old warmth is now drenched in pity.
You sigh, your warm breath mingling with the cool night air, and
tickling my frozen cheeks.
The wind whips around us, blowing strands of damp hair across
my face. I don't brush them away.
I'm trapped in your steely, uninterrupted gaze.
Finally, you stand up, breaking the unspoken link between us. I
see you flinch, but only slightly.
I stand too, but your back is turned, your shoulders hunched.
You begin to walk, slowly, but confidently, into the swallowing
unknown that is your future.
Dawn breaks the starry sky, casting tendrils of light
through the deep darkness.
I stumble, falling after you.
Your heart is racing, but you won't turn around, you can't.
I'm on my knees now, with the pressure of the world
closing in around me, holding me firmly to
the ground. I try to lift my head to look at you one last
time, but my heart holds it in place.
"Wait," I whisper.

Writer: Kaytee McKibben

Read My Full Bio / Twitter / Blog / Blog Fan Page

LaLaaLaaaLiar (Updated)

2010-06-03T16:06:00.000-07:00

Several people now have told me that they came in contact with "Lauren"'s grandfather. Whether this is true or not, or if someone is pretending to be her grandfather, is unknown to me, as I haven't spoken to him, myself. However, from information that has been presented from him, the fake known as "Lauren", was actually a 15 year old girl that for some reason felt the need to use somebody else's pictures. In my last post about "Lauren", I said that I did a reverse phone lookup on her cell phone number and came up with the name "Lillian Lozano" who was a 45 year old woman. It quickly spread that Lalaalaaalauren was a 45 year old pedophile. In my post, I never claimed for her to be a pedophile, or anything of the sort. In all actuality, my post was not fact, it was speculation, besides the main point of the blog post, which was to inform everyone that "Lalaalaaalauren" was a fake. And she was, in the idea that she stole an innocent girl's pictures and claimed to be her. Her thoughts, however, were her own. And maybe this is weird to say, but I'd still be "Lauren"'s friend, if she still wanted to be mine. I'd actually hope that if "Lauren" reads this blog post, she'd contact me somehow and allow me to post the complete reasoning behind why she decided to hide behind someone else's pictures. I only wanted to know the truth, as everyone else did. So, I hope she will give us that, because it can only come from her. Not her grandfather, and definitely not me. I'm terribly sorry if my post was misleading, because I didn't intend for it to be. And I never imagined it to get read by so many people. (It got retweeted almost 500 times, and was read by probably 4000+ people). If I learn anything else, I will let everyone know. Until then, please remind yourself that I'm a 17 year old boy and not a newscaster.

LaLaaLaaaLiar

2010-06-01T09:01:00.000-07:00

Read the updated version

What Girls Really Mean When They Say...

2010-05-26T09:47:00.001-07:00

Sometimes girls go to extreme lengths to let you know that everything isn't really "Okay". Take this burning house for example.

As a 17 year old boy, I have come to the realization that girls speak in their own secret code. And this girl language that is fluent to girls but unable to be understood by boys was invented to confuse the Hell out of boys so that they will keep trying to figure out what girls actually mean. Like I already said, it is unable to be understood by boys, so in this post I can't make any guarantees about the accuracy of my decoding. This is just my best guess as to what girls really mean when they say certain things.

1. "You're right."

Example:

Boy: I like cake.
Girl: Yeah, but pie is so much better.
Boy: I disagree. Pie just makes you fat.
Girl: You're right.

The first rule to understanding girls is that you are never right. When they don't argue with you, question why, and then tell her that she looks very pretty. Otherwise, you might be in for a rude awakening. Often when a girl says "You're right", it actually means "I'll be in a really bad mood later, and you aren't getting any for quite awhile." Oh, and never say the word "fat" around a girl. Just trust me on this one.

2. "Okay."

Example:

Boy: I'm going out with some friends. I'll be back later.
Girl: Okay.

No. It's not okay. In fact, you might as well have said "I hate you" and walked out. At this point, it's too late to revoke the idea of you going out with friends and not taking the girl. It's already been burned into the back of her mind. She feels left out. She feels betrayed. She might even feel like cheating on you now, just to spite you. To be honest, she probably already is. LOL just kidding. But seriously...

3. "That's fine."

Example:

Boy: I got you Dr. Pepper, is that okay?
Girl: I wanted Coke, but that's fine.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. At this point, if it is necessary, build her a Coca Cola factory just to get her a Coke. If the last Coke is at the top of Mt. Everest, prepare for sub zero temperatures and learn how to climb a mountain. Do whatever it takes. Just god forbid, do not give her the Dr. Pepper. Just don't. When a girl says "That's fine" it actually means "You're screwed". The key to making up for this mistake is avoiding eye contact and resolving the situation as fast as humanly possible.

The girl from The Ring received a Dr. Pepper when she wanted Coke. Now do you get it?

4. "I'm fine."

Example:

Boy: Are you okay?
Girl: I'm fine.

She's not fine, you fool. Every time you ask her if she's alright, it's because you noticed that something isn't right, therefore, whenever you ask a girl if she's okay, never believe the "I'm fine" answer. When girls are sad and irrational, they say the exact opposite of what they're really thinking. It's like a giant game of "Opposite Day", except they aren't playing and it's not fun. It's actually quite confusing.

5. "I don't care."

Example:

Boy: Some girl winked at me today. I think she was a swimsuit model.
Girl: I don't care.

What the heck are you thinking? Are you trying to make her self-conscious? She does care. She cares a lot. She cares so much that she's probably willing to stab the next swimsuit model that she sees because she thinks that all swimsuit models are filthy whores that are out to steal her man. If you've ever watched The Jerry Springer Show, you know what I'm talking about. Girls + Jealousy = Battle to the Death.

It's as simple as that.

Obsolete

2010-05-21T21:25:00.000-07:00

Image Credit

Obsolete

By: Brandon Elliott
Assumptions destroy as they spin and swirl and taunt,
as they envelope the emptiness, the shame,
and fill it with their uninterrupted crudeness;
Their insatiable need to deny and deform;
Their apprehension and disregard for anyone with
a compulsion to be alone --
To be one face that isn't derivative of their
worn out state of mind.
To be irregular, undefined.
When the say-so becomes the truth,
there's no point in a lie.
An untruth, however wrong,
shouldn't decide the outcome;
shouldn't corrupt the ounce of desire
that still lingers beneath the pretenses;
shouldn't, but sometimes does,
transpose a dreamer's dreams.
Because without this substance, this curiousness,
there's no cause for survival,
there's no need to discover, to evolve,
to carry on with passion and love and incredible recklessness
that can only be observed with contingent understanding.
There's nothing.

When I Was

2010-05-14T20:00:00.000-07:00

Image Credit

When I Was

By: Brandon Elliott

Silence and solitude never felt so detached,
when I was sitting in my room and letting my memories drown.
Finding myself somewhere between the flawed and the scratched,
when I was hoping I could take you higher, I only let you down.

The ends of the Earth felt within arms reach,
when I was spreading my shadows into the sky.
Relying on myself to learn what you couldn't teach,
when I was searching for a hidden meaning behind your obvious lie.

I try my hardest to move past the straggling and the strife,
when I was falling down and scrambling to regain composure.
Forgetting about me cuts deeper than any knife,
when I was closing my eyes and your distance appeared closer.

There's no endings to these words, they're still hanging around,
when I was thinking of new ways to make you aware.
I refuse to let negativity force me to look at the ground,
when I was gone from your life and you didn't care.

Contagious [Part 18]

2010-05-09T14:40:00.000-07:00

Image Credit

Sometimes the hardest thing for me to do is accept myself, and sometimes it's all I think about during the day. I think about my hair and how it never looks the way I want it to; my teeth and how they're not perfectly straight and how they're slightly discolored; my body and how it's weak and fragile, and how I can't run for longer than ten minutes without my lungs burning from fatigue.

I think about the pretty girls in magazines and how I'll never look like they do. No matter how hard it hurts to remind myself of that, I still do it every time I look in the mirror. I wonder if I'll ever look at myself and accept it.

The hospital cafeteria was dormant. I looked around for a bathroom and finally found the door with the word "Women" on it. As I entered and headed for the bathroom stall, I glanced at the mirror to the right and instantly looked away.

I figured the only way to accept it was to get rid of it, so that's exactly what I planned on doing.

Sticking my index finger down my throat, I leaned over the toilet and began to expel my soul the only way I knew how. With each thrust down my throat, I felt weaker. Tears came to my eyes as I gagged and choked and desperately continued to sculpt myself into a prettier version. I heard the bathroom door squeak open so I quickly flushed the toilet, wiped my mouth off, and walked out. What I was doing was wrong. It was killing me. But I didn't really care about that at this point. My whole world was slowly falling apart.

I really didn't want to go back to the waiting room because then I would have to hear Jak complain about how I took too long. But I really wanted to be there for Ivan, so I bought a soda from the vending machine and began to make my way towards the stairs. I wasn't about to take another chance with the elevator.

As I climbed the stairs up several floors, I felt as if I weighed 100 more pounds than I did before I puked my guts out. It's funny how it seems to have the opposite effect on me.

Ivan's family was still sitting there, slumped over, and half of them asleep. Jak stood up and grabbed the soda out of my hands and looked at me with the face that I had imagined he would.

As soon as I sat down, a doctor came with a suppressed look on his face.

"You can come see Ivan now."

Click here to keep the virus from spreading.

Reciprocity

2010-04-30T22:18:00.000-07:00

Image Credit

Reciprocity

By: Brandon Elliott
Wake up, wake up,
Sleeping in different shades of grey,
While this morning dew is desperately trying to fade me away,
and I'm being blinded by the brightness of this unrelenting haze.
Hurry up, hurry up.
Pulling at my eyes to stop the gaze,
Fighting to find my way through this repeating circular maze,
But I'm lost in the struggle that leaves me alone with my mistakes.
Be like them, be like them.
There's no time to think, today.
I'm so different that I look at everything the wrong way,
So I just sit, and I revolve between morning, night, and day.
Wake up, wake up,
Face the facts or sleep until I forget,
I'd rather dream than scream and be alive,
and I wonder if that makes you upset.
Hurry up, hurry up.
You're not going fast enough.
I'm so weak that I can't even move,
and you're demanding me to be tough.
Be like them, be like them.
You'll never fit in at all.
In fact, just go back to sleep
and pretend that you're not so small.
Wake up, wake up.

4 Types of People That Make Me Mad

2010-04-30T13:56:00.000-07:00

Dear Everyone,

There are several kinds of people that severely piss me off. If you are like any of the described people below, meet my angry face. >:(

1. The Gossiper

I realize that by posting this rant, I am sort of gossiping about people, but this is not the kind of gossiping I'm talking about. I prefer to call what I'm doing "venting". The gossiping that I'm talking about is when girls have conversations like this:

+ "OH MY GOD, did you see her hair?"
- "I KNOW, RIGHT? WHAT WAS SHE THINKING?!"
+ "And just look at her shoes. They're so last year. Ha."
- "I heard she was pregnant last year but she got an abortion."
+ "I heard she's part girafee."
- "Wow, what a whore."

Really? Is this real life? I listen to people have conversations just like this every day and I can't help but to be annoyed. And it only gets worse as gossipers get older. Imagine the same two people but 80 years old:

+ "Did you see Betty's hair? It was gray last week, and now it's brown. Who dyes their hair anymore?"
- "Yeah, she should really act her age. The dress she wore to bingo came up above her ankles. Do you believe that?"
+ "I heard her daughter is part giraffe."
- "Wow, what an old hag."

2. The Hater

Yes, of course, everyone hates "haters". (How ironic) It just seems that there are some people that go out of their way to disrespect and unnecessarily put other people down. As if life isn't hard enough. In fact, I've learned that you're either a hater or a lover. You can either be a good person and only say positive things to people, or you can be a bad person and only say negative things to people. The sad thing is that somehow these negative people find a way to sleep at night. I guess guilt isn't a reality for everyone.

3. The Egotist

Yes, you're awesome. You're the best. You're the coolest. Even this music video isn't as great as you are:

Even Oprah Winfrey would bow down to your greatness.

Muhammad Ali, the antonym of humbleness, would be humbled by you.

If God knew how wonderful you were, he'd create another universe just so you could rule it and make it just as awesome as you are.

There's a point at which high self-esteem becomes a bad thing. It's called being egotistical. It's called not realizing that you are not only a great person, but you are also just one person. Sure, self-esteem is good. Going around and acting like you're better than everyone else is not.

4. The Copycat

Some people have never had a creative thought in their entire life. Some people just follow the crowd and copy whatever someone else is doing. It's hard for me to imagine but there's a lot of people like this. How can someone not want to be original and come up with things that no one else has come up with? Why would you want to constantly copy other people?

Of course, getting inspiration from people and copying other people are two completely different things. And mimicking people until you can find your own style isn't so bad either. But just flat out being a mirror image of someone else is just something I can't respect.

In conclusion, if you are a gossiping hater that has a giant ego and copies everyone around you, you make me mad.

Love, Brandon

Encouragement

2010-04-28T16:26:00.000-07:00

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When I think about encouragement, oddly enough, I think about my dog, Winston. He's a short chubby mixed breed with long black curly hair and much like me, his hair seems to get in the way of his vision sometimes. He follows me around everywhere I go. Everywhere. Not once does he leave my side. He protects me from human-like dangers, including relatives and friends, by nipping at them if they even dare come near me. And although he's vicious to strangers, he's my best animal friend, and his heart is just as big as his ever-growing belly.

Unfortunately, his slight weight disadvantage limits him from jumping as high as he should be able to. Our couch is a few feet off of the ground; easily reachable by our two other dogs, but Winston seems to have trouble. In fact, it's not often that he is able to leap onto the couch by himself.

While he's yelping and whining and scratching to find his way onto the couch and I look at him like I expect him to do it by himself, he gives me the opportunity to witness the miracle that is "encouragement". Patting the couch and saying "Come on Winston, you can do it. Jump" is enough motivation for him to use his abilities to the fullest and make his way onto the couch without me having to lift him up. That's all it takes.

I wonder about the people, dogs, Sasquatches, water buffalos, etc., that don't have these encouraging figures in their life, and I feel bad for them. It's hard to reach your potential without a little push or a little guidance. Just think of how much better the world would be if instead of condescendingly criticizing others, we encourage them to grow and think and do their best. After all, if there's no one there to say "You can do it", we can't do it. We'd all just be yelping and scratching to climb onto the couch. And even if we did make it onto the couch by some leap of faith, without encouragement, we would be so tired by then that all we could do is take a nap.

Dear Lethargy,

2010-04-25T15:54:00.000-07:00

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Dear Lethargy,

So you think I'm strong. You think I'm perfect.

But behind these words are a lot of anxiety; a lot of frustration, and want.

Sure, sometimes my thoughts might seem absolute. Or substantial. These words might even seem powerful to you. But the things that have propelled these thoughts into my mind have only broken me down. There's a lot of weakness behind them.

There's a lot of mixed feelings hiding behind the words that no one will ever see. No matter how hard I try to show them, no matter how many times I write sentences that don't really make sense. I am weak. This paragraph is weak.

My entire thought process runs in circles until I'm mentally exhausted and I have no other choice but to sleep until I feel like facing reality again. Of course, there's always that one dream that makes me feel okay and makes me feel like everything I had hoped would happen still will.

I just hope you understand.

Love, Brandon

Resent Me

2010-04-21T12:28:00.000-07:00

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Resent Me

By: Brandon Elliott
Do you resent me when
I speak of love?
When I sing lullabies
that take your breath away
and keep you calm while
your nightmares expel your fears;
While your insides are churning
and your exhausted exterior
screams with pain and joy
and relief;

Do you resent the first time we spoke;
Is this just another joke?

Do you resent me when
I say your name?
When I whisper in your ear
and you push me away
and I give up until you give in;
When life seems to pull us apart
and we're grasping at every
inch that's left;

What is left is what we've become;
Is this what you felt when you felt numb?

Do you resent me when
I write these things?
When the words make sense
but you don't believe them;
Why don't you ever believe them?
When the aching pulses
to the beat of your favorite song,
and you can't help but to listen;

Why don't you ever understand;
that I resent the feelings that you demand?

The Top 10 Rules to Being a Gangsta Rapper

2010-04-18T15:52:00.000-07:00

1. Swear words rhyme with all other swear words. Use them at least once every sentence.

2. Girls like it when you call them bitches.

3. The more sexual references, the better. In fact, if it would make your mother have a heart attack, it's gangsta rap worthy material.

4. Use phrases that seem to degrade the opposite sex. For some odd reason, this is attractive to your listeners.

5. Bark like a dog frequently.

6. The majority of your lyrics should be about how much money you have and how nice your cars are. (Don't use the term "cars" - Instead use "rides" or "whips")

7. The beginnings and endings of your songs should be full of shoutouts to your "homies". If you don't really have any homies, make up some names like "Breezy" or "Paco" or instead give a shoutout to your "hood". If you aren't from the hood, give a shoutout to Detroit or Compton.

8. There is no such thing as "too much" jewelry. Buy some fake chains, watches, rings, and grills and pretend like they are very expensive. If you really want to stand out, act like you stole them from Biggie or 2Pac.

9. If you run out of creativity and have used up all of your well thought out lyrics, start making grunting noises.

10. If all else fails, end your gangsta rapping career and go back to your job at Wal-Mart.

If you liked this post, I suggest you read: Word to Your Puppy at Ipeedalittle.com

Contagious [Part 17]

2010-04-15T13:53:00.000-07:00

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I like to think of people as trees. There's all kinds of them. There's Weeping Willows, there's Oaks, there's Dogwoods, and there's Maple trees. A lot of things happen to these trees. Lightning strikes them, rain pours on them, the sun shines on them, and birds momentarily rest on them. And these trees really have no control over anything. They can't help it if one of their limbs break off; they can't help it if winter comes and they have nothing to do but rot and wither until spring. The truth is everything changes, and we just have to accept these changes as they come. It's either that or be cut down by a logging company that's making room for a new Mini-Mall.

And although I had this basic understanding of life, I could never bring myself to accept the changes that had an effect on me. I just couldn't.

So here I sat, still, in the elevator. I figured by now the maintenance people at the hospital had to have noticed that one of the elevators wasn't working. Just in case they hadn't, I was about to let them know.

I started screaming.

As my vocal chords vibrated with a constant ashy pitched tone, I also periodically pounded my fist against the unforgiving steel walls. If no one else heard me, maybe Ivan would.

Finally, I stopped screaming and stood quiet and still for a few minutes, desperately trying to find a clue that would lead me to believe that I would be out of here sooner rather than later.

No clues.

I looked at myself in the reflection of the elevator walls and stared straight into my own eyes. I wondered what kind of tree I was.

Maybe I was a great big oak tree, mighty and powerful, spreading it's limbs into the atmosphere and creating shadows for the ground below. Or maybe I was a pitiful twig, getting ran over by a riding lawnmower and spinning wildly into a million pieces. And that's when I remembered that there's always in-betweens to everything.

Just as my mind wandered into deep thought, the elevator bell rang and the doors opened and a few workers were standing there watching me stare at myself in this empty elevator. I could feel my face reddening.

It's funny how an awkward situation can make your emotions go from extreme anger to deep thought to embarrassment just like that.

I walked out of the elevator without saying a word to the weird man with the construction hat or the other weird man with the moustache. Instead, I headed for the cafeteria because I was extremely thirsty and I had to use the bathroom really really bad.

Click here to keep the virus from spreading.

Contagious [Part 16]

2010-04-13T13:30:00.001-07:00

I could imagine Jak sitting in the waiting room, wondering where his drink was. He only thought about himself. Even his most selfless actions were all targeted to feed his own image--an image that he saw as God-like, while everyone else around him with half of a brain knew it to be egotistical and oblivious to others' feelings. And not only that, but he was also an asshole. And I was stuck in this God-forsaken elevator and he was probably complaining that I was taking forever to get his drink.

I felt inside my pockets for my cell phone. I must've left it in the waiting room.

Great.

Being stuck inside this chrome-lined box was the least of my worries though. There was Ivan, who only a day earlier had tried to kill himself. Now he was in a coma and I feared he would never come out of it. There was Ivan's family, who I could individually go on about for ages. Ivan's mom couldn't get out of bed long enough to look for a job--as if she even wanted one. I'm sure she would much rather stay home and be doped up on pain medication instead of being a respectable contributer to society. Ivan's dad was a different man than he once was. The Army had changed him from the dad that cared about his children's feelings to the dad that cared about, well, nothing. He failed to see the Ivan that I saw. The Ivan with potential that just needed a little help along the way. Then of course, there was Ivan's brothers, Jak and Jon. Although Jak was his twin, he and Ivan were nothing alike. In fact, many people didn't even believe that they were related. Not only that, but they fought constantly.

I understood why Ivan tried to kill himself. He was never really a happy person, but I had hoped that I could change all that. And as far as I knew, we were happy together. Of course, I could still sense that unhappiness that lingered within him. He tried to hide it, but there's really no way of hiding years of grief. Sooner or later, it's going to show. And unfortunately, Ivan showed it by trying to end his life.

I felt like it was my fault. I felt like I could've been better, or I could've done something to help him be happy. Wasn't I good enough for him? Wasn't I enough motivation for him to live? These were the questions that kept replaying through my mind as I sat in this prison of an elevator.

I jammed my foot into the panel of buttons that controlled the elevator, hoping it would somehow cause the doors to open.

It didn't.

Click here to keep the virus from spreading.

I'm A Failure, I'm A Disgrace

2010-04-12T12:48:00.000-07:00

I'm A Failure, I'm A Disgrace

By: Brandon Elliott
I'm a failure, I'm a disgrace.
In your eyes, I'm a sham.
I could have been, I would have been;
Like you even give a Damn.

In second grade you called me a genius,
I could read at a high school level.
Now I'm just a shell, a skeleton;
a no-willed no-named devil.

And I can see you're disappointed,
maybe I'm disappointed too.
Imagine your father calling you a failure;
your mom walking out on you;
your brother treating you like an enemy;
your whole world coming unglued.

I can't erase this picture in my mind,
Of everyone leaving me to fend for myself.
To fight off the demons inside my head,
to struggle with this brain that gives me Hell.

I'm a failure, I'm a disgrace.
In your eyes, I am nothing.
But I've been trying my hardest just to be.
Doesn't that count for something?

What Will Your Verse Be?

2010-04-10T15:30:00.000-07:00

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In a hundred years, everyone currently on this planet will be dead. We'll all be gone, replaced by smarter, more technologically inclined children and grandchildren. This is a very frightening thing to think about. The future of this planet is in our hands, and we can choose to positively or negatively influence it. Like a ripple effect, our actions will culminate and decide the course of future history.

A quote by Chuck Palahniuk got me thinking about this.

"We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will."

As a teenager, it's all we hear our parents talking about. "You have to stay in school and do well and go to college so you'll get a good job." Make good grades. Do better. Be better. It's a constant pressure that is put on us as teenagers. But it's so much more than that.

It's my belief that we aren't put on this planet to go to school, go to college, get a decent job, retire, and then die. To succeed and grow we must create and give someone in the future the chance to learn from our own struggles.

A quote from the movie "Dead Poet's Society" reflects on this--well, more so on the subject of creating poetry.

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?" Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?"

This quote inspires me every time I read it. I try to ask myself this everyday --"What is my verse?" What am I contributing to this world, not just as everyone else is doing, but as an individual, as a creative minded thinker. The thought that WE, meaning all of us, get to contribute our own verse to the gigantic poem that is life is such a gift. And I try to take advantage of that gift every day.

A lot of people ask me where I get my inspiration from. The truth is I don't really know how to answer that. I get my inspiration from life, mainly, from doing a lot of thinking and observing of the everyday tragedies and disappointments of life. From sitting alone in my room and wondering about things. I write what I feel. And that's something that's hard to do sometimes.

Anyways, I think I just remembered why I don't do classic "blog posts" very often. Because I tend to change the subject a lot. While I'm rambling, I might as well just say that "Contagious" Part 16 will be posted tomorrow. Which is Sunday in case you're living in a different part of the world.

Oh, and the next time you wake up in the morning, ask yourself "What will your verse be?" Take a look from another person's point of view. You might be surprised what you find out about yourself that you didn't already know.

17 Pointless Websites That Will Blow Your Mind

2010-04-08T20:18:00.000-07:00

First of all, with a picture like that, you know this post is going to be awesome.

Actually, this post is going to be pointless. Well, partially. The point of it is to arrange a bunch of weird and meaningless websites that are floating around the internet, waiting for the random person to stumble onto them. Some of them are funny, some of them are dumb. Nevertheless, I think everyone will enjoy them.

1. Raraahahahromaromamagagaoohlala.com

The first pointless website is one that is dedicated to Lady Gaga. If you click on the link above, (you might want to make sure your speakers aren't turned up all the way before you do this), you will be amazed by the pretty colors and dancing "RA RA AH AH AH ROMA ROMA MA GAGA OOH LA LA" sections. The website is owned by @AnthonyGelman and could possibly be the most pointless website ever created.

2. LOL LIMEWIRE

A popular way to reach the above website is by going to Google and typing in "lol Limewire" and hitting the "I'm feeling lucky" button. It will then take you to the website where you can dance and cry and sing with joy. :D

3. Shut up woman, get on my horse

This is probably the most mind-blowing website here. It's just... there's no words for it.

4. trololololololololololo.com

There's really no explanation for this one either. You might just want to find out for yourself.

5. Badger Badger Badger

Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Mushroom Mushroom!

7. Viking Kittens

With a title like Viking Kittens, how can you not love this?!

5. swaneewhistle.com

This one is simple. Click the button, hear the Swanee Whistle.

6. Emergency Yodel

If you're ever in an emergency, visit this website and click the button to hear the emergency yodel. Yeah, I don't get it either.

7. Deep Black Hole

Drop the rock into the hole. I dare you.

8. Woof

This isn't actually a website, but it's extremely creepy. Move your mouse around.

9. Annoying Cursor

You'll probably hate me if you go to this site. It is pretty annoying.

10. Screamin' Beans

Poor beans..

11. Woot

An 8-bit dancing guy?

12. biglongnow.com

Answer the door!

13. Dot on the horizon

14. End of the Internet

15. The Drama Button

For all of life's unnecessary drama.

16. Pointless Website

This one is the best of all.

Okay, it wasn't fair to rick roll you. Please forgive me.

17. Have a nice day.

:)

A Stain On Society's Sheets

2010-04-06T19:32:00.000-07:00

A Stain On Society's Sheets

By: Brandon Elliott
I remember when I was little,
so unaware of things like death.
I thought that I would live forever,
I thought I would never run out of breath.

I remember yesterday,
just like it was tomorrow.
I remember the pain, the nothingness, the love,
the hatred, and the sorrow.

I remember painting with
Q-tips and watercolors.
I remember growing up and getting bigger,
but never feeling taller.

I remember when I could play
in the creek behind my house.
When Sundays were just like Mondays
and I never had any doubts.

I remember when I didn't look in the mirror
to see if I was still there.
When I was free and wild and colorful
and it didn't matter if anyone cared.

But now that this gun is pointed
straight through the inner me,
I can't, for the life of me, seem to remember
what it felt like just to be.

To just sleep because it was raining
and to dream about infinite worlds.
To eat because I was hungry,
to stay calm while emotions swirled.

To run because I was young
and I could do whatever my mind would allow.
To love because I thought she was nice,
not because she was popular, somehow.

And now that I am standing here
with these sheets wrapped around my neck,
I can't believe they didn't see it coming,
my life was such a wreck.

A nobody with nothing to live for but
a headline on the Sunday paper's front page:
"Boy Commits Suicide, Dies at the age of 17"
Does that fill you with rage?

The fact that you could've saved me,
but you didn't even care,
Would it have hurt for you to say "Hi"?
How could you have been so unaware?

You know that saying that you told me once?
"The grass is always greener on the other side"?
Well, now I'm just a stain on society's sheets,
from the same bed that my tears were cried.

This poem is dedicated to anybody that has ever committed suicide.

If you or someone you know is thinking about committing suicide, please get help. Talk to friends or family or call the suicide hotline (1-800-SUICIDE)

☮ ♥ & ☺

Anger Isn't Us

2010-04-05T11:49:00.000-07:00

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Anger Isn't Us

By: Brandon Elliott
Anger isn't me.
Anger isn't healing.
Anger isn't when you're standing up,
and everyone else is kneeling.

Anger isn't you.
Anger isn't a constant.
Anger isn't among us now,
not even at this instant.

Anger isn't when life hands you
nothing but rusted chains.
Anger isn't around to stay,
it has nothing to gain.

And anger won't prepare itself
for whatever you have to say.
Anger isn't a soldier at war,
although sometimes it goes away.

Anger isn't a dying breed
of romance and sincerity.
Anger isn't yesterday's promises,
whatever that even means.

Anger isn't when you're so mad
that you could burst with hate and rage.
And anger isn't when you want to break free,
but you're helplessly trapped in anxiety's cage.

Anger isn't you or me,
or him or her or us.
Anger is when you know,
and you're the only one that does.

The Top 3 Most Hipster People on Youtube

2010-04-04T21:49:00.000-07:00

Hipster is the latest trend. The triangles are emerging, and they're doing it rocking v-necks, skinny jeans, thick-rimmed glasses, and complicated hair cuts. Oh, and they are also listening to music that you've never heard of. If you asked a hipster what his/her favorite geometrical shape is, they'd say the ▲. If you have never seen a hipster, take a look at this website called "Look at this fucking hipster".

Many of these triangle worshiping people have become popular on Youtube. Let's take a look at some of them.

1. Mitchell Davis

Mitchell Davis is probably the most popular hipster on Youtube. Although he doesn't openly admit his dedication to the hipster culture, one look at his website makes it obvious enough. See how he replaced the "A" in "Davis" for a triangle? Dead giveaway. Mitchell Davis pretty much set the standard for all hipsters on Youtube. Lowercase "Helvetica" font and all.

2. Andrew Bisante

Gauged ears. Brass knuckle belt. Need I say more? Andrew Bisante is another hipster on Youtube that has over 50,000 subscribers. Even his shop on his website is filled with v-necks. He could use a few more triangles though.

3. StandardTristan

Not only is Tristan a hipster, but he also kindly made a video that explains how to make a hipster music video. Follow his instructions and you too can become popular on Youtube! Although he is not as well-known as some of the other hipsters, this works to his advantage on the hipster scale because it makes him undiscovered, just like the bands that hipsters listen to.

Please note: No disrespect to hipsters was intended. I find the hipster fashion to be more intriguing than most others. In fact, I wear v-necks on occasion and own at least 10 pairs of skinny jeans. Triangles fo' lyfe.

When You Figured Me Out

2010-04-02T17:51:00.000-07:00

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When You Figured Me Out

By: Brandon Elliott
It's a shame you feel so alone,
so isolated and controlled,
like a rag doll with the stuffing coming out;
worn, even though it's been sewed.

And it's not okay that you're afraid,
to even say what's on your mind.
If your thoughts were my thoughts, well,
I surely wouldn't leave them behind:

To rot and to waste,
to detach and then mend,
Because your thoughts are worth the breath,
because you don't need to pretend.

Remember that one time during recess,
at school when you were pushed to the ground?
And when that kid spit in your face,
and you didn't even make a sound?

You have to learn how to stick up for yourself,
to tell them exactly how you feel.
And if that's your biggest fear,
well, at least your fears are real.

And when you breathe,
make sure to remember,
that winter when you felt so lost,
that snowy evening in December.

The day that you had the knot tied,
and fell asleep with your worries in hand,
and you decided to sleep it off,
under your dream's demand.

You dreamed a dream that was worth your thoughts,
and you knew this because of the fear.
And when you awoke, and you wiped your eyes,
there wasn't anybody there.

And when you realized,
that the kid that spit so hatefully in your face,
wasn't worth your thoughts, or your breath,
well, you packed your mind's suitcase.

And when you left the past behind,
when you put away your doubt,
I hung my head and shook your hand,
when you figured me out.

Hope is a Metaphor

2010-03-31T13:14:00.000-07:00

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Hope is a Metaphor

By: Brandon Elliott

Hope is still lurking,
under it's sequestering guise.
I can see it just barely
through the fluttering butterflies.

Sometimes it runs,
and I think it's gone forever.
But it always trembles back,
and it always shines brighter.

And according to Hope,
things should always be perfect.
But reality likes to remind me
that soul will only bring conflict.

And friction will keep me alive,
but what I really need is a hero.
And every time you say my name,
I hope it's not a metaphor for "zero".

I'm wondering if hope is just another illusion;
if the butterflies aren't real;
if reality is a constant;
and if this zero will never heal.

Is what you hope something different,
or similar like a synonym?
Hope is misleading, like a disguise,
like a cloaked word that tends to condemn.

Contagious [Part 15]

2010-03-30T16:48:00.000-07:00

Chapter 2

The lights inside the hallway were pale yellow, giving everyone a heightened sense of gloom that was already heightened enough. It smelled like clean sheets and empty hallways and death and I was beginning to feel like I would spend the rest of my life here in the hospital waiting for Ivan to wake up.

His family sat beside me, some of them crouching over, some of them watching the television. Ivan's twin brother, Jak, was sitting two seats away from me, then his older brother, Jon, was in the next seat over. His parents wouldn't even look at me; his mom appeared to be asleep, and his step-dad was messing with his phone.

I felt so alone among his family.

"When is he going to wake up? I'll bet he's not even in a coma. He's probably faking it for attention", Jak said.

I wanted to scream at him and let him know how stupid he was being but that would've only lead to more conflict and my heart wasn't really up to that challenge.

Instead, I just sat there quietly, praying for Ivan to wake up, praying for a sign that he would be okay. I don't believe in God, but tragic things like this made me feel like I had to at least try to get help from someone, or at least make myself feel like I was helping him in some way during this time when he was completely helpless.

But it was up to him, and only him.

I thought about if he even wanted to come out of the coma, or if he was dreaming about me. I could feel another emotional breakdown coming, so I decided to go for a walk to take my mind off of things for a second. As I stood up, Jak said "Hey Lauren, get me something to drink from the cafeteria, will you?"

"Sure", I replied.

I hit the down arrow and waited for the elevator to open up. After a few seconds, it finally did, and it revealed an elderly lady and three boys that looked like her grandkids. I'm claustrophobic, so I decided to try the other one instead of taking my chances with those people.

The elevator next to it opened and I stumbled in. The doors closed. I hit the button for the first floor, and gazed all around the four walls and the ceiling. I noticed that they were shiny and metal-looking, but not shiny enough to show a clear reflection. The elevator started going down. One by one, the lighted button changed as we moved from floor to floor, from ten to nine to eight. Then, without warning, it stopped.

The elevator came to a standstill and my body didn't. Inertia pushed me as hard as it could and my body met the floor without an ounce of cushioning. Instead of screaming, I just laid there, sobbing, wondering if things could get any worse.

I scrambled to stand back up. Holding my arm that was now throbbing with pain, I hit the "Open" button on the elevator panel with my right elbow. It didn't open. I released my arm and hit it with my finger. It still didn't open. Then I began furiously pressing the button in, until it finally got stuck. In a fit of frustration, I kicked the elevator doors, but my foot was no match for the doors that I then realized didn't only look like metal, but were also as hard as metal.

Shit.

I was stuck.

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The Normal

2010-03-29T12:29:00.000-07:00

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The Normal

By: Brandon Elliott
Is the normal a teenage boy,
with a pen and a shaking hand,
and should he speak out,
or hang his head
along with life's demand?

Is the normal in Jesus Christ's reach,
or Zeus's or something more,
or are we in control of our own destiny,
of everything that we swore;
of all of the times that we shouted loud
and had nothing to say but "War!"

And is the normal something to seek,
or just an average of,
every failure and success and quit,
that was shamed and praised from above.
From the same chambers that ridiculed innocence
and of which that we disdain thereof.

If the normal were to answer these questions,
that were written with calmness and poise,
their judgement would reflect that which they attach,
words of normal hate and unforgiving noise.

The normal can't opine with ease,
it's not a normal task;
and I wonder if they are so normal,
under that suppressing mask?

The Top Ten Reasons Cookies are Better than Girls

2010-03-25T12:34:00.000-07:00

The Top Ten Reasons Cookies are Better than Girls

1. Cookies are forgiving of your flaws and never take time out of their day to judge you.

2. Cookies do not have a menstrual cycle, therefore their mood is always the same. Which is the "I'm ready to be eaten" mood.

3. Cookies are filled with sugary deliciousness and girls are filled with blood and guts, (and depending on who you ask, girls are also filled with thunderstorms and rain clouds).

4. Cookies don't have ex-boyfriends.

5. Cookies don't get mad when you eat other cookies.

6. Cookies can't talk. More importantly, they can't talk about things like #4. Plus, if cookies could talk, I'm sure they'd be less whiny than girls.

7. Cookies can't divorce you if they find you working "overtime" at the bakery.

8. Cookies don't have opinions.

9. Cookies fill you up while girls only drain every ounce of energy you have.

10. Cookies will love you no matter how many times you call them ugly.

By the way: I love girls. Don't get me wrong. This post was only for humor purposes. :)

How to Entertain A Justin Bieber Fan for Hours

2010-03-24T13:12:00.000-07:00

Dripping With Solidity

2010-03-23T15:16:00.000-07:00

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Dripping With Solidity

By: Brandon Elliott

Dripping with solidity,
the silent songs of our day;
and this is why the liquid runs,
but never wants to stay:

Because the world can't be content
without something to disprove,
and everything wouldn't even be enough
for the nothingest of all of you.
Because time flies but never crashes,
or halts to say goodbye,
and angriness has transformed our vision,
of what used to be a lie.
Because a tree isn't even a tree,
unless it's filled with dollar signs,
and happiness is made out to be,
whatever the dictionary defines.

But solidity is as fluid as ever,
it likes to come and go;
and if this is normal or unorthodox,
well, I guess I'll never know.

Contagious [Part 14]

2010-03-21T11:03:00.000-07:00

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Kris had made two mistakes that he wouldn't ever forget or remember. As I look back on it now, I wasn't sure why I decided to just walk away from him right there. I could've gotten revenge. I could've hurt him. I could've punched him so many times that you would have only been able to determine who he was from dental records. But none of that would've helped Lauren. No amount of revenge in the world could take back the fact that he raped Lauren and then tried to kill me.

Instead of killing him, I picked up the gun and put it in my pocket. Without saying anything to Kris, I turned around and walked to where Lauren was laying on the ground. I picked her up and carried her to a clearing by the side of the road. After rummaging through her backpack, I found a blanket that I spread out evenly and moved her onto. I kneeled down beside her and looked at her.

I thought about a movie where a guy once kissed a girl that was dying and he saved her life with the kiss. I knew it was just a movie but anything's possible if you just believe, right? Well, I probably got that idea from a movie also. I guess I'm brainwashed.

Although I realized I couldn't save Lauren's life, I still wanted to kiss her so maybe she'd be happy when she saw the bright lights. So I leaned over. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was as quiet as a whisper. I closed my eyes and bent over until my lips were touching hers. For a few seconds, I was happy.

Then I moved away slowly, still looking at her peaceful face. And then something amazing happened.

Her eyes opened.
Her cheeks brightened.
Her lips revealed her gorgeous smile.

I stared at her in awe.

"Don't you ever do that to me again", she said.

I was confused. "What are you talking about? The kiss?"

"No, I enjoyed that. That's not what I'm talking about. Kris could've shot you. You scared me so much", she said.

I was still confused.

"But didn't you get shot?" I asked.

"No. I was pretending the whole time. Thanks for saving my life. You're my hero, Ivan", she kidded with me.

We both laughed but we understood the seriousness of what just happened and what could've happened. We both could've been dead. We both could've been fertilizer for next year's Dandelions. But instead, we were both here, together, laughing, and I was starting to appreciate it.

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Contagious [Part 13]

2010-03-19T14:04:00.001-07:00

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We only appreciate the rare things. The common things in life go unnoticed and disappear. And then when they disappear, they are appreciated, and we ask ourselves why we didn't appreciate them while they were still here. It's just how life is. And some of us realize this, but there's not much we can do to prevent it from happening, because it's impossible to be aware of these things while they're going on. So we just accept it.

I've figured out that it's much easier to accept things if you just remember this -- "Life goes on." And we can either stay in one place, or we can move forward. Progress isn't a miracle. It takes hard work and determination. Sure, there's a little bit of luck involved with life, but most of it is decided by you, and only you.

It doesn't hurt to have someone you love to hold your hand while you're going through all of these collection of difficult things that we call life. That's why I don't understand the relationships that are so childish, breaking up with each other and cheating on each other, causing drama, and doing ridiculous things just for the spite of it. Leaving each other for a temporary fix, and hurting each other endlessly just to feel in control. I wanted to treat a girl right, and be happy with her. I wanted to skip the drama and move into the euphoric feeling of being absolutely involved in someone else's concerns, without any strings, without any tangles, but also without any detachment.

If I couldn't find that in Lauren, I didn't know where else to look.

I came to the conclusion that the bang noise was a gunshot. Of course, my conclusion didn't help the fact that Lauren was now laying on the ground and I didn't know what to do other than pass out and forget all about bubbles, bears, and anything else that is irrelevant while a gun is pointed at you.

The blurred dark figure moved closer. In the sunlight I could see him clearly. It was Kris.

His face was stained with blood and he looked like he was minutes from death. His shirt hung around his neck and in his hand was a small silver pistol. It was so small that I was sure it only held one bullet.

He pointed it at me and I just looked him in the eyes, not even moving a muscle.

"Shoot me, Kris", I said.

His hands were shaking, the gun almost falling right out of them. It was at this moment that I knew that even if the gun still had another bullet, I had to look death straight in the face and laugh at it. I started walking towards him. He backed away as I got closer and closer.

"Take another step and I'll put this bullet into your brain", he said.

I laughed.

"You think that scares me? Kris, there is nothing more that I would like for you to do but shoot me and put an end to this."

I continued to walk anxiously. I was only 10 feet away from him.

His finger caressed the trigger while his hands still shook. When I got within 5 feet of him, he aimed it right in between my eyes and pulled the trigger with one swift finger movement.

Click.

Nothing.

He dropped the gun.

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Contagious [Part 12]

2010-03-17T14:13:00.000-07:00

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Sometimes I felt like no one else ever felt like I did. And there was proof of that, everyday, when I'd go to school and I'd listen to guys argue about sports, or who can lift the most weights, or the girls who'd talk about their latest boyfriend, the one they're cheating on with the star quarterback--the star quarterback that the most popular cheerleader had been dating since middle school. I wasn't ever a part of that. I was different.

I felt like I was surrounded by robots, all of them with the same unreachable and unnecessary goals. A perfect house, a perfect car, a perfect marriage, a perfect life, all supported by their rich doctor parents which includes the perfect mom with the perfect love affair and the perfect dad that beats his perfect whore wife.

And I loved Lauren because I felt like we were both on the same wavelength, and no one had tuned into that wavelength except me for a very very long time.

We were the hidden voices that were afraid to tell the majority that they were wrong. We were the silent dreamers. But we thought about things, and they were beautiful thoughts, full of redemption, full of understanding.

I hardly ever shared these thoughts with anyone.

"Have you ever felt like you're different from everyone else? Like not just different, but completely opposite. From everyone", I said to Lauren as we continued to walk.

She was still blowing bubbles.

"Yeah", she said. "I guess."

I don't think she was listening to me.

"You're not listening to me, are you?" I asked.

She didn't answer me. "What are bubbles made out of?"

I cut in front of her and turned to face her and stopped walking.

I looked deep into her eyes. I could see the oceans swirling through them. The familiar twirling emotions meant nothing would make them go away except a shoulder to lean on and maybe some good music. There was no music out here.

I gave her a hug. Not one of those meaningless friend hugs. One where you never wanted to let go because you could feel the other person's heartbeat and you felt comfortable with that. So we just stood there for awhile, understanding each other. No words were spoken. No tears were shed. We just hugged.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked.

"No."

As soon as she answered me, I heard a loud bang. Through the muddled trees, I could hardly make out a blurred dark figure.

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Contagious [Part 11]

2010-03-14T18:10:00.001-07:00

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We live our whole lives looking for the right words to say. But what we don't realize is that there are no right words. There is nothing anyone can say that will be right. Because there's always the gray sided people that won't accept them. No matter how hard you try, they won't. And it's the sad truth to life, that the gray people sometimes ruin people that are in brilliant color, and bring them to the gray side, to sulk and to criticize others.

But those who can stay in color, in reds, in greens, in bright blues, despite not knowing which people are gray and which people aren't, those are the ones that make it in life. Those are the ones that are happy. But it takes a special person to not give in.

"I'm so sorry", I told Lauren.

"It's not your fault."

I heard Kris groaning and I looked over and he was now sitting up, his hands buried in his stomach, probably in more pain than he thought he would ever be in in his life. I wanted to hurt him more.

"I wouldn't get up if I were you, Kris. Unless you want two broken legs to go along with your ribs", I warned.

He laughed and then stopped because it made him hurt worse.

Prick. I always knew he was an asshole ever since the time he stole one of my pencils in grade school. It was my favorite pencil.

"Let's go, Lauren. Let's get out of here", I said.

"Okay", she said as she quickly wiped the tears out of her eyes.

We walked out of the carnival and back to the road. I had so far only explored the road that lead to the lake. I figured it wouldn't hurt to try the other direction this time.

Lauren pulled something out of her backpack while we walked. It was a little bottle of bubbles.

She started blowing them and I reached over and popped one of them and she gave me an evil glare.

I grabbed her hand carefully.

We both knew what had happened. But neither of us wanted to accept it. And neither of us were ever going to understand why, but it did, and that was real. That was the truth.

"You should go home", I told her.

"I don't want to."

I didn't argue with her. I knew what was best for her. But what I wanted and what she wanted and what was best was three completely different things, and I was still trying to figure out which was which.

"Do you like bubbles?" she asked.

"I love them."

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Contagious [Part 10]

2010-03-14T12:45:00.000-07:00

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I continued to walk until I reached the lake I had swam in earlier. As I neared the edge of the water, I looked around for a container to keep some in. It was a warm day and the terrain was exhausting to travel alone on.

Several yards from the bank was a flask. I twisted the cap off and looked inside of it with one eye open and one eye closed. It was empty. I carried it over to the lake and filled it with water. After taking a quick drink from the flask, I realized that someone had had tequila in it previously, and I was getting the watered down left over remnants of it. Anything to keep me going, right?

I finally came upon the road with the "dead end" sign laying to the side. Walking past it, I grasped for the chain underneath my shirt and held it tightly. As I got closer and closer to the abandoned carnival, I started hearing something. I walked faster so I could hear it clearer. Someone was screaming.

I began to run. Everything became a blur as my feet desperately clung to the dirt and pebbles while I was treading along. The screams became more distinct as I got closer and closer.

"Helpp!" someone cried.

It was a girl's voice.

As I whizzed past the merry go round and the old roller coaster, I finally saw them.

I grabbed him and threw him as hard as my body possibly allowed. I fell down with him and scrambled to get up but I settled for grabbing his leg and he settled for kicking me in the side of the head. My left eye went dark.

I punched wildly at the air and caught him with three of them. I was trying to punch clear through the other side of him. Through my right eye, I could see that he was bleeding just as much as I was. I wasn't sure where she was.

We both stood up slowly, not wanting to get hurt any more than we already were.

"Hey man, I don't want to have to hurt you", he said.

"Kris? Is that you? What the fuck are you doing here?" I was so confused.

Kris was my best friend. I had known him since Kindergarten. This was the first time we had ever fought.

I forgot to wait for a reply, because I already knew part of the answer.

"I'm going to fucking kill you", I reasoned.

I charged at him and put my shoulder right into his abdomen and we both flew forward. His body broke my fall and I think my fall broke his ribs.

He laid there in pain and I stood up and looked for Lauren.

She was sitting in one of the bumper cars, crying.

I walked over to where she was and just stood there.

"He wrote the letter", she said in between breaths.

"I never should have went to sleep", I said.

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Contagious [Part 9]

2010-03-13T07:33:00.000-08:00

I woke up and my eyes pulsated with pain so I just kept them closed thinking the pain would disappear. It didn't.

I opened them and looked around, squinting to avoid the brightness of the sun. I was alone. There was no Lauren to be seen. And not only that, but the fire had been put out.

I sat up, puzzled.

"Did a bear eat her?" I said to myself.

I really hoped not. If a bear ate her, I'd feel guilty. I scrambled to stand up quickly and fell right back down, onto my face. I laid there miserably and all of a sudden I felt helpless.

I felt like I should have jumped from the cliff when I had the chance. I felt so stupid for believing her.

There was a note on the ground.

I picked it up with my bruised hands and read it quietly to myself.

Dear Ivan,

I didn't get eaten by a bear. Please don't worry about me. I'll see you again someday, but right now I need some time to myself. I hope you understand.

Love,
Lauren.

Bullshit. Love is bullshit. She's not a Hallmark card. She's selfish.

I crumbled up the note and threw it as hard as I could.

I was alone again. I needed to remind myself that I'm the only person I can really trust. I pulled the gold cross that my father had given me out of my shirt.

"I need some help from you, dad." I said as I looked to the sky.

I wondered if he heard me. I wondered if he could help me.

I wondered if it was normal to feel like this. Like you could just die and no one would care, even yourself. Like I don't even exist.

I started walking again, in the general direction of the cliff. I wasn't sure how far from it we had wandered, but I didn't care. I was alone now and that was enough for me.

As I was walking, I remembered something my mom had told me when I was little.

"Life is hard, Ivan. All you can do is keep trying. You have to try. You owe it to yourself."

I guess this was my dad's way of helping me. Funny, since they got divorced a month after she told me that.

I changed direction. I headed for the abandoned carnival.

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Contagious [Part 8]

2010-03-12T12:25:00.002-08:00

The night air was cold and made me desperate for a nice warm bed. But there was no shelter out here in God knows where. Just Lauren and I and a few scurrying squirrels, holding onto their acorns for dear life. I thought about how we were just like the squirrels, except how they had it better figured out than us. All I wanted in life was to want something bad enough and then get it, and hold onto it and keep it safe. I was still searching, but the squirrel had it simple. Maybe I was just looking at things the wrong way.

We had been up half of the night. I wasn't sure what time it was at this point but Lauren was asleep and I was watching her. The fire was reflecting off of her face and I thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Somehow she sensed that I was awake and I was looking at her and she opened her eyes without warning. I jumped and buried my face within my hands. She sat up and looked at me.

"Go to sleep, Ivan. You need to rest", she said.

My heart was still beating rapidly.

"Sorry. I was just making sure a bear didn't eat you while you were sleeping", I lied.

She knew exactly what I was actually doing, "You were staring at me because you like me."

I contemplated whether I should make a joke and deny it or if I should just act like I'm sleeping or if I should just admit it.

"You're beautiful, you know?" I said.

"Why else would you be staring at me while I'm sleeping?"

"Bears", I said.

"Oh, right. Bears." she grinned.

"Ten beautiful girls are killed each year by tragic bear accidents. I feel like it's my responsibility for you to not be one of those ten."

"You're such a loser", she said.

"I know I am. And you like it."

"No I don't", she replied.

I looked at her in awe and didn't know what to say. She was smiling for some reason, as if she was happy about making me feel unliked.

"I love it." she said.

My expression of awe didn't change, but the context of my wide open mouth differed entirely. I had never in my life heard something so cliche and beautiful that wasn't out of a Hallmark card. I was starting to think that's where she got these sayings from.

"Was that out of a Hallmark card?" I questioned.

"What?"

"Nothing", I muttered.

I laid my head down on the itchy grass and closed my eyes. I pretended like I was asleep and listened to Lauren's breathing. I was so tired.

After 30 minutes she finally laid down beside me. I opened my eyes when things got quiet and found her with her eyes open, staring straight into mine.

"Watching for bears?" I asked her.

"No, I just like you", she said.

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Contagious [Part 7]

2010-03-09T14:34:00.000-08:00

Things were getting better. Complicated, but better.

Everything was changing. I was seeing things in a different light now. The grass that once seemed so plain and common was now vivid. I appreciated things, like air, like clouds, like myself.

The rain stopped shortly after Lauren kissed me. It was as if the rain was my pessimism and her kiss halted it. Is that too cliche to say? Oh well. Our relationship was cliche, and I enjoyed it. We had only met each other hours before, but we felt like we had known each other forever. Cliche again. Damn it.

We started a fire just as the night crept in and took away the safeness we had felt earlier. She had a backpack filled with things that she packed before she ran away from home. In it was some matches, clothes, cereal, water, makeup, money, and various other women stuff.

The fire was refreshing. It kept us warm and that was all we needed that night as we kept each other company and told each other about our average and complicated lives.

"My parents might as well not even be there", Lauren said. "They don't even pay attention to me. All they're worried about is themselves and their problems. But what they don't understand is that their problems fall on top of my problems as well. And I couldn't take it anymore. I needed out."

I nodded.

"I couldn't tell them how I felt. I didn't want them to worry about me because they were already worried enough. So here I am. I wonder if they're worried about me right now."

I interrupted her, "They are, Lauren. I'm sure of it. There's probably a search team of hundreds of people looking for you. And they're all worried about the sweet teenage girl that is missing, and they want to find you so you can be back home with your family. Is that what you want?"

"Right now I'd much rather be with you", she said.

I smiled, but behind that smile was a lot of fear and anxiety. For one, I still had no idea where I was. When I first found myself at the abandoned carnival, I was confused and clueless as to how I got there. And now this girl is here, and I have no idea how she got here. Or who she is. But most of all, I don't think it's safe to be out here by ourselves. The last thing I want is for this girl to get hurt. She's so sincere, and I can't help but be extremely protective of that.

"I feel the same way", I told her.

She reached over and touched my hand. I extended mine and she slid her fingers in between my fingers and we sat there for awhile and listened to the sound of the crackling fire. I wondered if things would always be this simple.

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Dear Shadow,

2010-03-03T20:02:00.000-08:00

Dear Shadow,
By: Brandon Elliott

One day this world will be full of color,
black and white just won't do,
I can't wait until tomorrow,
to spend the rest of my life with you.

I want to scream at the top of my lungs,
"Why are you sleeping? You need to wake up."
Stop what you're doing, and hold your tongue,
you try to speak but you can only hiccup.

I don't really fall in love often,
I like to keep my feelings on lock.
but my heart is slowly starting to soften,
and you're right on time, I've been watching the clock.

You're a blank canvas I'm willing to fill,
but this permanent marker is hard to erase.
I'm starting to wonder if your words are real,
or if you're just another girl I'll have to chase.

So until I know that you're for sure,
I'll be living in black and white.
Are you the sickness or the cure?
or another heartbroken poem I've yet to write?

Contagious [Part 6]

2010-03-02T17:22:00.000-08:00

"Sometimes you think you're going one direction, and you're fine with it. Then later on you realize you were unknowingly looking into a mirror, you know? Life is a guessing game. And it's easy to guess wrong." I continued to try to console her. She seemed to be calmed by what I was saying.

It started to rain. First as small sprinkles.

"But I just got tired of everything. Everything I did was a giant struggle. And all I wanted was for it to be easier." She paused to wipe a tear away. "But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find that gray area. That space where it's comfortable."

I knew exactly what she was talking about. Since I had felt like this so many times before, I didn't really have a way of telling her it would get better. I knew for a fact that it could very well get much worse instead. Did I mention life is a guessing game? Well, sometimes you guess right, and you get punished for it instead of being rewarded.

The rain grew steadier. I looked around for any sort of shelter, but there was none.

So we sat on a fallen tree and stared at the ground as the rain started to pour. It was one of those moments when you blur everything else out, and just focus completely on the sound of the drenching rain. And ironically enough, everything was alright as long as it was pouring. We found solace sitting together with water dripping off of our faces.

She turned to look at me and our eyes met as I turned as well. I looked back at the ground.

She kissed my cheek and put her arms around me and then rested her head on my shoulder.

I could feel my face reddening as I smiled slightly and wished I hadn't looked back down at the ground.

I tried to analyze the moment, but too many thoughts were crawling through my mind. Somehow I figured it was going to be a lot harder to guess from here on out.

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Brandon Talks About the Birds and the Bees

2010-03-02T10:32:00.001-08:00

I finally gave into the Youtube fad and made a video. A bunch of people have suggested that I make videos and even more people ask me if I make videos. Evidently if you're popular on Twitter you HAVE to make videos on Youtube. So here you go.

Brandon Talks About the Birds and the Bees

Subscribe to me and I'll make more videos!

http://www.youtube.com/thebrandonelliott

Contagious [Part 5]

2010-02-28T11:15:00.000-08:00

Leaves rustled behind me, causing me to jump in a moment of sheer terror and disbelief. I desperately grasped for a stick, a rock, or anything to defend myself from whatever wild animal that's crossed paths with me, of all things, in this world of coincidence and possibility. This world where the negatives seem to outweigh the positives, until that one moment in your life when everything is perfect, and you try so hard not to screw it up, but you always do. I believe Newton explained it the best. What goes up must come down.

I turned around and dropped the measly twig that was supposed to protect me. This was no wild animal. This was a girl.

At first we only stared in disbelief. I imagine that the same twirling thoughts that were running circles around my mind were making her dizzy also. I was about to faint.

"What... who are you?" the girl said. I was still lightheaded.

"My name is Ivan. Who are you?" I muttered. She wasn't impressed so far. And she looked like she was in much better condition than I was.

"I'm Lauren. What exactly are you doing here anyway? It's not safe to hang out at the edge of a cliff. You could slip and fall." she preached at me.

"Well... erm." I struggled. I was trying to think of a defensively sarcastic way to hide the fact that I wanted to fall. I couldn't think fast enough.

"Actually I was planning on jumping. What's it to you?"

No reply.

The tone of her voice made it seem like she didn't care. But her facial expression told a different story. I could see right through her. She was one of those girls that was constantly misunderstood. She wanted to be bigger than the walls that were suffocating her every time she pushed back. And I wasn't going to hide the fact that I already had her figured out.

I followed the urge to let her know I wasn't stupid, "So you ran away from home, huh?"

She looked at the ground. Her face turned bright red and tears formed in the creases of her eyes. I was right, but I felt bad now.

I walked over to her and put my right hand on her shoulder. With my left hand, I lifted her chin and wiped away the single tear that was running down her face.

"Everything's going to be alright."

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Contagious [Part 4]

2010-02-26T14:37:00.000-08:00

The drop was roughly one hundred feet. I looked straight down and my stomach seemed to spiral endlessly as I calculated how far my head would go into the Earth if I did a nose-dive. If my calculations were correct, It'd have been about a half of a foot, depending on how much air resistance slowed me down and how hard and moist the ground was. My legs would be sticking straight up in the air, pointing to the sky. The wild animals would eat the flesh and meat off of my decaying body which would only leave a pile of bones for the archaeologists of the future to dig up and carbon date. They'd be able to tell what time period I lived in, but nothing more than that.

They wouldn't know what my struggles were, what I liked and didn't like, or even how I died, how I killed myself, and why. Hell, even I didn't know why. Why not? There was no one here to tell me "You've got everything to live for. Don't jump. Your family needs you". It was just me and mother nature out here in a battle of will that I was losing terribly.

And maybe that's why I didn't jump. There was no rebellion. There was no point to prove. I wasn't dying to show someone how wrong they were about me. There would be no sympathy at a funeral packed with people that thought I was weird while I was alive but for some reason realized how great of a person I was after I died. I had no reason to jump but because I was dying, and I was alone.

And that's when she came, and destroyed every part of the mentality I was previously stuck on. She shattered me.

She saved me.

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The Declaration of Indecision

2010-02-24T12:33:00.000-08:00

The Declaration of Indecision
By: Brandon Elliott

I pledge allegiance to the flag,
that was sewn with hateful thread.
To the blood-red dye of our enemies and allies,
and those that we have left for dead.

Under the God that so many have worshipped,
but fail to see the true meaning behind,
and with justice for all but those that we hate,
because freedom is only for those with a selfish set of mind.

And I hereby declare that the truth is self-evident,
and in this land of the free,
We were all created equal, and deserve happiness,
especially if you'll join our Army.

Because in America, you too can be rich,
with money, fast food, and disease,
And be slowly killed by our taxes and fines,
until you die and we use your body for cosmetic studies.

Note: This poem is meant to point out some flaws in the United States. I'm not a dictator. Please don't make Hitler references at me.

Contagious [Part 3]

2010-02-23T16:37:00.000-08:00

I sat in the grass, furious, and in denial. The heat and the hunger were getting to me. So far I had gone almost a week without any food, unless you count the ant that crawled in my mouth while I was sleeping the other night. I started to feel dizzy. Nauseous. Empty. I heard dogs barking. And then all of a sudden darkness became reality, and I wasn't aware any longer.

I started running, faster and faster, until my legs were moving so fast that it became a complex virus that wouldn't be stopped until it was killed over and over again. I was desperate for freedom. Eventually my madness deadened, at least the part of it that was caused by the heat exhaustion, but only after blood dripped out of my nose and down my upper lip. I fell over, hands grasping my stomach, and cried out in pain. Tears came to my eyes as I bit my lip and wiped my nose and mouth with the palm of my sweaty hand. It was crimson; it was the truth.

I lied down on my back, looking up at the sun and resisting the urge to squint. I wanted to go blind. I wanted another reason to want to die.

The heat was becoming a permanent part of me.

I was past the point where you stop caring. I was now at the moment in life when you get yourself ready to accept the other side of things. The life after life after whatever came or didn't come before it. And I was preparing myself earnestly. I was gathering my thoughts, and clutching onto them so tightly so that maybe they would not leave me as I entered Heaven or Hell or joined the dirt and became fertilizer for the next generation's Weeping Willows.

I was ready to gurgle my last words to the only thing that was a constant in my life up until now, and that was fear.

Click here to keep the virus from spreading.

Dissecting Words

2010-02-21T12:11:00.000-08:00

Dissecting Words
By: Brandon Elliott

Words will deceive you,
confuse you, and constantly disfigure;
relinquishing feelings,
while only fighting to make them bigger.

The space between them,
giving ___ a ___ false ___ sense ___ of ___ time,
but it's temporary, climaxing at the moment
whenthesyllablesrhyme.

And they'll choke you, hurt you,
leave you begging for more;
developing hate & love,
carelessly starting endless wars.

The vowels are screaming, pleading,
impatiently waiting their turn,
to dissect, disrupt, change,
relieve, and then return.

Because words will always be repeated,
they're just infinitely rearranged,
and correct me if I'm wrong,
but words can sometimes be a little strange.

Words that make you, break you,
explain how you feel;
Words that interrupt, discourage,
Words that seem surreal.

But the truth is words can't be dissected,
because words are the knife,
and they'll split you open, sew you up,
kill you, and then save your life.

Contagious [Part 2.5]

2010-02-17T12:13:00.000-08:00

After following the dusty road, step after lengthened step, I finally came to a ravine. There was a lake that must've been a half of a mile wide. It was U-shaped and lined with trees and reminded me of the summertime back at my home.

I started taking off my clothes so I could jump in and cool down. I unbuttoned my shirt first. The water was so serene, and enticing. The breeze whistled slightly, making small ripples in the glassy facade of the water. I undid the button to my jeans and slid them off.

I waded through the water until it was up to my waist and then dove forward into the crisp aquatic enlightenment. Swimming somewhere in the middle of the lake, I realized that I had forgotten to take off my gold chain that my father had given me when I was a little boy. It had a cross on the end of it with the name "Ivan" encrusted on it vertically.

I held it there in my hand while I thought about all of the things the chain has helped me get through. The time when I slipped on ice and fell on my face and bit clear through my lip. The time I drove home and saw my dog lying in the middle of the road with not an ounce of life left in its body. And then all the times I felt like ending it all, but couldn't because I was afraid. So I just cried.

A tear ran down my face, so I went under the water to get rid of it. There was no crying allowed right now. I needed to find food, and fast.

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Contagious [Part 2]

2010-02-16T16:12:00.000-08:00

I woke up with my head throbbing; pulsating. It felt as though a horse had realized some mud was stuck on the bottom of his hoof, and he tried to stomp it off. Only I was the mud.

The dry rotted seat inside the bumper car stuck to my sweaty skin as the humid weather seemed to melt me right onto it while I was asleep. I peeled myself off slowly and sat up, pondering what I should do next.

After a few minutes of blankness, I decided that I needed to find water. It had been almost two days since I even felt liquid on my tongue. I was malnutritioned, and my mouth contained less moisture than the Sahara Desert.

I started walking. I passed the broken down ferris wheel, the deserted cotton candy stands, and even the faltering remains of a roller coaster. The wooden structure of the "Thunderous Rage" was only a skeleton of what I imagined it was when it was in service. This was most likely the result of a few million hungry termites.

I left the premises of the abandoned carnival and began to follow an old dirt road to wherever it would lead me. I figured there wasn't any cars driving on the road anymore, but it was a good start towards reaching any sort of civilization. Laying down beside the road was a "Dead End" sign. Ironic, if you ask me.

When I was just five years old, my dad and I went on a road trip. It was a Saturday, and he was a little bit under the influence. A little bit meaning three times over the legal limit. I thought it was funny how he was driving; we were both laughing and having a good time. Until I learned just what a "Dead End" sign meant.

We went over an embankment; the car flipped over and over again until I didn't know which way was up and which way was down. By the time it was all over, I was in the backseat and my dad was somewhere outside the tangled mess of steel and iron.

Needless to say, after the crash, I was still alive. He, however, wasn't.

Click here to keep the virus from spreading.

Contagious [Part 1]

2010-02-14T10:51:00.000-08:00

Chapter 1

As the rain tumbled down, dancing beyond the silhouettes of the blackened trees, I tried my hardest to not join the puddled mud on the ground. Giving up seemed so easy; so comfortable. Yet, continuing on was the only chance I had at survival. I couldn't give up now.

I bent over, arms resting anxiously on my wavering knees, and puked the remaining contents of my stomach into the foggy landscape below me. I paused for a second, trying to remember whether I had eaten anything black or if I was just puking up pure bile at this point.

There was something about this moment that seemed so familiar, like it had already happened once before. Things like deja vu made me nervously suspicious of superstition. Maybe that's why I always wore two different colored socks. Maybe I was just disorganized.

As I traveled farther, I came across what seemed to be an abandoned Carnival. The dirt covered Merry-Go-Round reminded me of when I was little, and when I wanted to be big like my dad. And when he was my hero and I didn’t know where babies came from.

But that was alright because I knew that we would get ice cream later, and although I knew my dad wouldn’t let me get sprinkles because I always made a mess, I knew that it wasn’t a big deal, but I cried anyway. And then I got sprinkles because he felt bad.

I sat in one of the dusty, rotted seats of a Bumper Car, and closed my eyes. Everything went back to the way it used to be. Innocent, colorful, unaware. Like it was early in the morning on a Saturday, watching cartoons and eating all of the marshmallows right out of the Lucky Charms box.

For a brief second, I could almost hear the television blasting again. The smell of waking up to breakfast. The coldness of my feet as I realized that my socks had somehow disappeared sometime in the duration of my sleep. And then the emptiness returned.

I fell asleep, pretending. Pretending that everything was going to be alright.

Click here to keep the virus from spreading.

I Survived Valentine's Day & All I Got Was This Broken Heart

2010-02-12T12:49:00.000-08:00

I Survived Valentine's Day & All I Got Was This Broken Heart
By: Brandon Elliott

I told you I loved you and you said
"I love you too".
I thought that meant we'd be together,
but it didn't mean anything to you.

The softness of your kiss;
and the warmth of your demise,
doesn't begin to explain the madness
of these butterflies.

The chaos that ensues,
in my every tingling nerve,
the endings folding in their own beginnings,
the shapeless cold heart's curve.

It wasn't just a kiss,
and I didn't think that it was stupid.
But sometimes I have to agree with you,
love is just as blind as Cupid.

And I didn't expect it to be this way,
so awkward and unknown.
But Valentine's Day is only here this year
to remind me that I'm alone.

Writer: Brandon Elliott

Hi. My name is Brandon, and I am the creator and main poster of this blog. Realizing that there are a lot of talented young writers out there besides me, I recently decided upon letting 7 people other than myself to release their thoughts here as well.

Read My Bio / Twitter / Facebook / Blog Fan Page

When I'm Dead

2010-02-11T16:37:00.000-08:00

When I'm Dead
By: Brandon Elliott

I wonder if, when I'm dead,
anyone will even care.
Or if my memories and my thoughts
will just dissolve and disappear.

I wonder if, when I'm dead,
the world will forget that I was here,
or if they'll remember everything,
even the things they didn't want to hear.

I wonder if, when I'm dead,
anything will still be the same.
Or if I'll just be another echo,
another faceless name.

I wonder if, when I'm dead,
the funeral will be glum.
Or if the people that pretended to love me,
even bothered to come.

It pains me to know that I'll never find out
what it feels like to be okay.
But I know one thing, that when I'm dead,
I won't have said everything I wanted to say.

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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To the Young & the Hopeful

2010-02-09T15:36:00.000-08:00

To the Young & the Hopeful
By: Brandon Elliott

To the young and the hopeful;
To whoever's still innocent;
To the unsuspecting and the caring;
To whoever came and went:

To all of the people that still do good,
and have set all of their flaws free;
To those who step with peaceful footprints,
and speak with dignity:

To those with a purpose
that is unselfish and brave;
To anyone who hasn't settled
for being a slave:

To all of the people of their own kind;
and to someone out there with peace of mind:

You only live once, so make it last;
because when you need time the most,
it will have already passed.

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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Leaving You Behind

2010-02-07T09:04:00.000-08:00

Leaving You Behind
By: Brandon Elliott

It's Valentine's Day, and I'm Valentine-less,
because I've decided you're not the one for me.
For the past few weeks I've been dreading this moment,
but now that it's here, I'm kind of relieved.

I could never explain to you exactly how I felt,
because I was afraid you wouldn't understand.
And now I've finally come to grips with reality,
and know that I need something more than holding hands.

Believe me when I say it was fun while it lasted,
but it's over and I no longer need you.
This might seem sort of heartless, but I'm just being honest,
which is something that you should try to do.

If you're even still listening, let me say one last thing,
I wasn't jealous when you kissed that other guy.
I felt sorry for you because you're so in denial,
that when you pass me you still try to say hi.

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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My Poetry, In the Form of Music

2010-02-05T11:56:00.000-08:00

Today was the first pleasant surprise I've had in awhile. And boy, it was a good one.

This awesome musician / artist by the name of Dave Ryder took my poem called "The Dream" and turned it into a song which I find to be quite relaxing and peaceful.

I made the song into a Youtube video with lyrics. Be amazed:

It might not be a hit song, but it's my favorite song, because I wrote it. :)

Check out Dave's website: http://daveryder.com

Follow him on Twitter: @DaveRyder

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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Nobody

2010-02-04T12:21:00.000-08:00

Nobody
By: Brandon Elliott
You say I'm nobody,
well why do you care?
Because you sit behind a computer screen,
acting like I'm not aware,
That your insecurities
have gotten the best of you.
And you're taking it out on me now,
you've got nothing better to do?

You say I'm nobody,
well I'm not convinced,
I'm constantly misunderstood,
misrepresented, by people that don't make sense.
I let you get the best of me,
so far that's all you've accomplished in life,
while I'm following my dreams,
and you're only creating more strife.

You say I'm nobody,
and you're still stuck in 2009,
ignorance is feeding your drama,
everyone knows that you're lying.
So let me welcome you,
to reality,
let me show you what it's like to be
nobody.

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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For Anyone That's Ever Been Hated On

2010-02-03T20:49:00.000-08:00

This post will not contain any well thought out sarcastic remarks that will try to make you laugh. This is for anyone that's ever been hated on for being themselves, or in my case, for no reason at all. This is as serious as I get.

Today a random person that I've never met or talked to before decided to let me know that I am too negative, and that I should crack a smile once in awhile. (Maybe he should have read my post called "Should I Be Less Pessimistic or Should You Be More Realistic?") I then asked them "Do I know you?". The reply was "No, and I don't want to know you nor do I care to know you." Rude, right? I probably should've ended the conversation right there, but no I decide to pursue it.

I told the person that "I'm not negative all the time, I'm just realistic. The world isn't made of marshmallows and candy canes." and said that "I do smile, actually. How would you know if I don't smile? Do you stalk me?"

Then all Hell broke loose. He proceeded to call me names, tell me how I am a nobody, I'm a low life, I'm cocky, ignorant, a "dumb broad", etc. etc.

As if I don't already know that I'm a nobody? I'm 17 years old. The only people that know my name are the 16,000 people on Twitter and the people that read this blog. I'm not a popular kid in real life. I've known that my whole life and I'm fine with it. From what I've seen, being popular isn't a good thing.

And this is what really gets to me. After all of his middle school drama is over and I've done my best to tell him to "Fuck off" without actually saying it, he makes it out like I "failed at hating on him" and that he "danced circles around me and embarrassed me" and even said that I was the one that attacked him!

Nothing pisses me off more than people like this that think they know someone when they don't, and then even have the balls to make you out to look like the bad guy.

Look, I might not be the most optimistic person in the world, but I'm real. I say what I feel, and that's all. If you don't like that, you have that right, but you DON'T have the right to bring someone else down, for any reason.

I realize that I'm getting sort of popular on Twitter, and this blog is getting more visitors and comments than it ever has before. And I love you guys for that. And I know that as my Twitter account and this blog grows, I'm going to be getting more haters. It's just hard for me to accept that, because I don't know how to deal with people that are so mean for no apparent reason.

I know I have to keep my head up, and be a bigger person than them. But I just want you guys to know that life is rough as it is. Don't make someone's day any worse by unnecessarily calling them names or bringing them down. Try to make positive influences.

The person that attacked me earlier today first called me "Negative". But look, you don't try to make someone less negative by calling them names. That will only make them feel worse about themself.

That's all for now,

Love you guys.
-Brandon

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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What Can I Do to Help You?

2010-02-02T13:19:00.000-08:00

What Can I Do to Help You?
By: Brandon Elliott
I'm not as inconsiderate as you make me out to be,
and I care about what others think too,
but somehow I always get lost, struggling, breathless,
"What can I do to help you?"

I can tell by the way your eyes fog up like glass,
that it wasn't your intention to argue.
But we're all colorblind in the beginning,
and it's our job to turn gray into blue.
Sometimes I just feel like I don't belong,
like I'm floating into infinity,
I welcome you to bring me back down to Earth,
to make 'you' into 'you and me'.

It wasn't always this hard, you know,
but things have changed, that much is true.
I never thought you were the crying type.
"What can I do to help you?"

Ridicule and love go hand in hand,
that's what you fail to see.
If I hated you, why would I be writing this,
is it not enough just to be?
I don't want to be a nuisance,
but this isn't over, I can tell,
The end doesn't matter, and neither do you,
wait, did I just contradict myself?

I'm saying this with a sense of forged curiosity,
and a notion that you feel this way too,
so let me ask you before I jump,
"What can I do to help you?"

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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The Dream

2010-01-31T12:02:00.000-08:00

The Dream
By: Brandon Elliott
One time I dreamed
that the Earth wasn't round.
And the things that I knew
were just empty sound.
The sky wasn't blue,
the clouds were so grey,
and the only things that left me,
were what I wanted to stay.
The trees only grew downwards,
into Earth's hellish core.
I wanted to say everything,
but words didn't exist anymore.
The grass wasn't a cushion,
for our shoe less bare feet,
and I no longer wanted
for the cold to be heat.
The Sun didn't shine,
not even in the summer,
and my curiosity stopped,
So I didn't even wonder.
Dreams didn't exist,
and neither did this,
but I never once thought
that things were amiss.

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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Have you found God yet?

2010-01-30T06:57:00.000-08:00

Before you read this: Please refrain from leaving unnecessary comments. I welcome your opinion, but please keep them in line.

I grew up in a sort of Christian family. We went to church every week, at least when I was younger (around 5 years old). I remember the repetitiveness of the few hours a week that I spent sitting there doodling on a piece of paper.

Most of the people that went to the church I went to as a young'n were older ladies. They knew they weren't far from finding out what happens after you die. It must be a troubling thing to know that soon you will figure out the truth to the world's greatest mystery, only to understand that you can't bring that knowledge back to 'life'.

I think that fear is what brings most people to Christianity. "Have you found God yet?" is a question that I'm sure many of you have heard before. I have a few sarcastic answers to that one. "Have you found the end of a rainbow yet?" "Have you found the Easter bunny or Santa Claus yet?"

Of course not. It is in my beliefs that Christianity only serves a couple purposes.

1. To keep the people of Earth morally correct.

2. To give Hope to people.

The first one doesn't even work. Look at all of the people that are Christians that are morally corrupt. Just because you "know God", doesn't mean you're not going to sexually molest young children. Just because you "know God", doesn't mean you wouldn't kill a prostitute after you rape her.

And who would forgive people that do that kind of stuff if they only ask for forgiveness? That's not kindness, that's stupidity.

Besides, it's human nature to be immoral. We are all born with an urgency to do wrong, and it's within ourselves that we must choose to do right. Just because you're not religious, doesn't mean you are a BAD person, and just because you don't believe in "God", doesn't mean you won't do GOOD things.

So what do people look for when they pray?

They are asking for help. They want hope that things will get better. I don't believe in Christianity, but I believe in hope. I don't think that we need to ask an imaginary friend for help to have hope, though. It's like doing a "rain dance" to urge the Gods to make it rain.

I don't judge people by their religious beliefs. In fact, I don't really care what a person believes in, because no one knows for certain how the world was made. No one knows for certain if God really exists.

So until we find out, after we're dead and we're fertilizer for the grass above us, I'll keep praying to Hope, not God, and my Bible will continue to be a coaster for my drinks.

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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Animals Don't Have Feelings

2010-01-27T13:14:00.000-08:00

Please note the sarcasm before you leave me death threats.

That's right, I don't care what you say. Every time I see a stray cat waddling along the side of the road, I be sure to swerve just enough to clip it. I'm doing the world a favor. Animals only take up air that humans could be using to breathe, or something.

I don't donate to the Humane Society. In fact, I go there sometimes just to laugh at all of the animals that are about to be killed. I'm glad hardly no one adopts pets from there. Good riddance.

The wide angle lenses they use in the PETA commercials don't make the puppies cute enough for me to not hate them with a passion. I could care less about anything that can't talk. It's not like they have feelings.

I say we should go ahead and cut down all of the forests. If the animals that live there don't like it, then good. They need to realize who's at the top of the food chain. And if they can't survive when we're destroying their homes, it's just too bad for them. Survival of the fittest.

So who's with me?

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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Being Distasteful Never Tasted So Good

2010-01-26T12:54:00.000-08:00

Being Distasteful Never Tasted So Good
By: Brandon Elliott
It started with a one page letter,
so sweet and innocent.
Full of clichés and unbroken promises,
and still I was sure you meant it.
It happens like this every time,
that you make me believe in love.
You make the world seem so unimportant
Besides you, I have nothing else to dream of.

And yet, it fades, every time,
I guess for you, faithfulness gets kind of old.
I don't mean to complain, but I really did love you,
and now I'm dreaming of the lies that you told.
You tell your friends that you never even liked me,
kind of funny how that always works out.
You laugh like it's a joke, but these words are real,
and I hope you realize I'm not someone to doubt.

And here I am, still hoping you'll change,
but hope is blind in so many ways.
This never meant anything to you before,
but I'm lost in your distasteful maze.
When you decide to start caring, just let me know,
I'd love to laugh in your face.
Because I'll never believe in love again,
unless I find someone that won't make me chase.

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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Should I Be Less Pessimistic or Should You Be More Realistic?

2010-01-25T12:32:00.000-08:00

For example, if I were to say, "The United States economy is only going to get worse until finally the country is in complete shambles" and someone were to reply, "Stop being so pessimistic!", where is the line drawn between pessimistic and realistic?

The truth is that pessimism is an emotion. It's only a choice in that when something bad happens, you can be pessimistic about it, or you can completely ignore reality and be optimistic.

Being optimistic when you know you or everyone else is in a bad place feels dishonest to me. Pessimism allows us to address and deal with issues in life.

And like I said before, pessimism is an emotion. When bad things happen to people, they get sad. They get depressed. And when you're standing at a funeral and half of the people around you are bawling their eyes out, you don't say "Stop being so sad!" Do you?

I do realize that some people can be overly-pessimistic. Some people overreact and blow things out of proportion.

But you have to realize, being realistic is efficient and would help so many people in this world. I know this is a lot more complex than I make it sound, but think of all of the over-weight people in the United States. If some of them came to grips with reality and said "Okay, I need to eat less. I don't really need to eat all of this food." Or some of the people that max out 5 credit cards. If they said "Maybe I don't need to buy these things." Their problems would be solved.

I think pessimism is so discouraged that some people have lost their sense of right and wrong.

And I say it doesn't matter how you look at a glass. If your glass is half full, great, I'm glad, but stop and think next time before you tell someone not to be so pessimistic. You never know how low their glass really is.

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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Swimming In A Glass-Filled Creek

2010-01-24T13:54:00.000-08:00

Swimming In A Glass-Filled Creek
By: Brandon Elliott
In a clouded stare,
I looked up at the sky
disillusioned
and in contempt.
Because the stars
were no longer there.
They are unreliable,
they are rare.
Because the revolutions
were already found.
They are conceited,
they've been rewound.

In unnerving whispers,
I shouted to myself
unaware
and invisible.
Because I saw a
speck of dirt.
and I was jealous,
I was hurt.
Because I am nothing
where everything means hope.
and I was base,
I was soap.

In the decided truth,
I touched a light bulb
unafraid
and in refrain.
Because the mold
was never broken.
I am shaped,
I'm unspoken.
Because this won't mean
a thing to you.
I am a flickering light,
I am see-through.

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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Hypocritical Trends Start With Disaster

2010-01-23T08:28:00.000-08:00

Hypocritical Trends Start With Disaster
By: Brandon Elliott

There's something that they don't tell you on the news,
while you're sipping your Cappuccino, so much for the whole truth.
You can afford a brand new car, house, and lots of food,
meanwhile, a sweatshop in Bangladesh is making your Nike shoes.
It's not even the fact that a 9 year old boy,
who doesn't even know what happiness is,
is assembling your kids' toys,
it's because you don't even care,
until their village is destroyed.
When you see on television that somebody's in need,
half of your donations are feeding the government's greed.
I guess I'm just realistic when it comes to these things,
Don't even think that blood wasn't shed for your 5 karat diamond rings.
Give generously when it's a trend, it's all for your image,
but the truth is that your ignorant ways are only causing more damage.

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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How Our Conversation Went From "Hi" to "Don't Talk to Me Ever Again"

2010-01-20T18:30:00.000-08:00

First, there's the greeting.

"Hi, Brandon, How are you?"
So far, so good. At least they pretend to care how I'm doing, right?

"Good. How about you?"
I'm not really 'good', but saying otherwise would lead to further conversation which would lead them to asking me what's wrong, which is something I wouldn't do over scraping my eyeballs out with a rusty spoon. And, I don't really care how they're doing either, it's just polite to pretend, I guess.

"That's good."
They still don't care, but I don't expect them to.

"So, what have you been up to?"
Here's where the conversation can go several different ways. I could either say "nothing really", which would completely put an end to the conversation, or I could have a little fun and make up something that is funny (to myself, in my sick little mind). However, the second option usually ends up in me telling a lie. A giant one. But, it's for the sake of humor, so it's okay, right? Right.

"Well, I just got done burying my cat in my backyard. Poor little fellow. I guess he was allergic to cat litter all these years. And the 5 kilos of marijuana I fed him probably didn't help, either."

*Blank Stare*

"Don't talk to me ever again."

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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The Top 5 Reasons People Unfollow You on Twitter

2010-01-14T13:15:00.000-08:00

I'm one of those people that over-analyzes everything. Back when my twitter account only had around 100 followers, I constantly checked to make sure nobody had unfollowed me if I tweeted something new. I'm sure a lot of other people do this too. And if someone did happen to unfollow me, I would think "Why would they unfollow me? Where did I go wrong? What did I say that could possibly offend someone?" Nowadays, I don't really care if someone unfollows me. I let bygones be bygones. However, I do unfollow the people that unfollow me, and with being a user of Twitter for over a year (I joined on January 6th last year), I happen to know the main reasons that people unfollow others.

#1. You're Annoying.

Plain and simple. It doesn't mean you annoy everyone, just the person that unfollowed you. Maybe they don't really care about your recent bowel movements. Maybe they don't care how cute your kitten named "Cuddles" is.

It's hard to tell why they think you're annoying, but don't let it discourage you. Everyone has an opinion, but the fact of the matter is that a lot of them are wrong.

#2. You Tweet Too Much.

If you tweet every 10 seconds, expect to lost some followers. No one wants their timeline to be all you, unless they're stalking you or something. Or ... if you're Justin Bieber, I guess.

#3. You Are Un-Interesting.

Generally, people don't think tweets like "I'm bored" and "I'm still bored" are interesting to read. Keep your tweets interesting. Act as if you're your followers. Would they want to read what you're about to say? If not, don't say it. Unless of course, if you don't care if anyone unfollows you, go right ahead. Say whatever you want. It's what I do, anyway.

#4. You Unfollowed Them.

If you unfollow someone, you can only expect to be unfollowed back. It's only fair. Who wants to hear what someone else has to say if that person doesn't care what you have to say?

#5. You Tweeted About a Controversial Topic.

I'd estimate that 80% of my followers are in love with Justin Bieber. (I love making statistics up). And every time I decide to rag on Justin Bieber, I lose a couple (more like 20) followers. Try to keep your tweets non-controversial, unless you like controversy. I know I sure do.

Know of any interesting reasons people have unfollowed you? Leave a comment below.

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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Are Your Pants On The Ground?

2010-01-13T19:17:00.001-08:00

An instantly popular man by the name of General Larry Platt has taken the recent American Idol auditions in Atlanta by storm. With his hit new song "Pants on the Ground", it's no wonder stars like William Hung are born. Watch, and be dazzled.

And people think they need to win American Idol to get a record deal? You go, General! Do your thing!

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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Hate Never Wanders

2010-01-13T13:21:00.000-08:00

Hate Never Wanders
By: Brandon Elliott

In the beginning, there is no sun,
But darkness is our friend.
We almost feel as though we're drifting,
But in a progressive state, there is no end.

And nothing stands in our way
like an enlightened head full of hate,
I guess in ignorance, our vision's blurred,
but that's no reason to mess with fate.

With nothing to do but latch onto ourselves,
It's no wonder there's a shortage of words.
The sky isn't falling, and neither is time,
so why do we live our lives in fast forward?

But I'm nothing special, so speak your mind,
and about me, don't pretend to wonder.
If there's one thing I've learned from walking alone,
it's that in the end, hate never wanders.

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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Justin Bieber Hit Puberty?!?

2010-01-12T14:14:00.000-08:00

Could it be!?

Nahhh...

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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Love and All That Jazz

2010-01-11T17:46:00.000-08:00

Do you have a significant other? If not, you should probably get one. In fact, love is not only a cruel, evil, unforgiving mistress, but it can also be motivating. Love is what makes you tick.

"Tell me whom you love and I will tell you who you are." -Houssaye

Is that not true? You can find out so much about someone by looking at who and what they love.

But let me ask you this: Can you say the same thing about what or who someone hates?

Hate is EASY, Love takes effort. Is that why the ratio of hate to love is (by my made up statistic) around 10:1? Are we too lazy to love?

"They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love." -William Shakespeare

Love is an evil angel. That is the best metaphor I've ever heard for love. Here are a couple great opinions on LOVE that I got from some of my followers on Twitter:

@CatherineGrison: "To love, thou shall not think!"

I couldn't agree with this more. I know this phrase is cliche, but Love is Blind. Love is stupid. But without love, we are nothing.

@MedinahEnt: "Love is a gerund. A verbal noun. It denotes ACTION."

I liked this opinion because love is often a phrase that is thrown out there without purpose and because of that, has somewhat lost its value.

Anyway, this was just a bunch of random thoughts I had that I thought might be worthy of being released onto my blog.

Tell me your thoughts on love by leaving a comment below.

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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"Twitter Song" by @BillZucker

2010-01-11T15:24:00.000-08:00

This is the theme song of my life right now. Pathetic right? Don't forget to follow Bill Zucker, who made this catchy song.

Writer: Brandon Elliott

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