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Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Love Is All: First Quarter

This is the first part of the draft I am going with. But, before you read, here is the video from the actual singer:


Well, I walk the river like it’s easier than land, the guitar and raspy voice of the singer captures me. My heart is pounding, it beats too fast—I run out of breath. When did life become this? When did I become the ball of emotions I am now? They say that once you fall in love your whole life changes.


Evil’s in my pocket and your will is in my hand; that raspy voice bellows out. The light of my phone lights up—“Great, it’s him,” I say to my friend as my attention is turned from the band.

“What?!” She yells across the table. The decibels are too loud for us to have a normal conversation; she walks up to me. “What did you say?”

“Look,” handing over my phone. The drums pound in my head along with the Irish car bomb I had gulped down an hour before.

“That son of a bitch,” she yells out and I can hear her crystal clear—the other concert goers stop and glare at us. Yet, I want to look at his message.

I had to work a double and I fell asleep. My bad, the message simply stated. “What kind of excuse is that, that douche,” my friend had yelled out again. Sloshed from the Guiness and Bailey’s, I agree. GO F—I begin, but something comes over me not to say that. Maybe it was that care I felt at that moment, but maybe I also didn’t want to regret anything that came out of my mouth from imbibing too much at this moment at this concert.

And I’ll throw it in the current that I stand upon so still. “I would ignore him,” the last thing I remembered or choose to remember coming from my friend almost before letting her pass out as I finish watching the concert. He stood me up, again. God damnit, how could I stood up again, my mind races and as I sing along I can’t help think of him in spite of my anger.

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. I say distance is hell and it’s in that torture that you learn how much a person truly means to you.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Love is All: Quarter Edit

I sent this to Andrew, but I am posting here:

I’ve been working on a story based on a song by the Tallest Man on Earth called “Love is All.” I’ve been experiencing a lot of emotions lately regarding Sean. He couldn’t come again on Saturday; he worked a double and was tired. I didn’t know he fell back to sleep until later when he woke up. My friend was mad and started calling him really bad names. I felt so bad, but I couldn’t speak up. We went to see one of my favorite bands and the Irish car bomb hit me badly and I followed suite with the bad names. He did text apologizing for falling back to sleep and I almost texted him something that I think would have made me lose everything. I am glad I didn’t. My friend said to ignore all communication with him. I did that yesterday for a bit, then he sent me, “I already feel really guilty about everything and if you don’t want to be my friend, just tell me.” We had a heart to heart and it turns out we care deeply for one another. He lives 2 hours away by bus (surprisingly mom brought it to my attention that maybe it was hard for him to get to our house with the bus and all and I shouldn’t hold that against him…after all I feel the same way after a week of taking the bus sometimes too) and we basically came to the conclusion that if we want to hang out we would decide the day before and whatnot. It all depends on finances too. I know my friend isn’t going to be happy; both mom and gram said, “she might not like him, but that shouldn’t affect you. It is your relationship.” I never cared so deeply for someone before. Even if it’s only turns out to be friends only, I want him in my life. Still things are a bit confusing and my emotions are all over the place. Gotta love butterflies.




Anyway, I am going to change things around a bit to add my motions and just change the whole feel. I will post the changes in my blog later, but I want to send it to you so you can compare and tell me which parts I should keep and take out for the other version of my story.



Thanks!
Love,

Jessica



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Love is All

Based on the song by The Tallest Man on Earth



Well, I walk upon the river like it’s easier than land, the guitar riffs and echoing of the loud drums from my favorite band blasts out of my headphones. Life had been like that lately—treading in the currents of confusion and emotions, yet these currents were also beautiful and painted a picture full of colour, life and possibility.

“You know it’s really up to you with what you want to do, not someone else,” my grandmother had said. We usually bonded once a week on the bus when we would go to the rehabilitation and physical therapy center.

“I know. But, what my friend said… I love my friend dearly, but I care deeply for him.”

“Well, there you go. Your friend might not like him, but it’s your relationship and not hers.”

Oh, your will is in my hand. Those names echo through my head. He did disappoint me when he didn’t show up and called to tell me he couldn’t come. My friend loathed him for that—twice—inexcusable in her book. I love my friend dearly, but there was something that wasn’t sitting right with me. I wanted to listen to my friend, but there is something in my heart and my mind that told me that despite everything, I like him and at least he called. It might have sucked, but I might be a fool for being too understanding. But, aren’t we all fools when it comes to feelings of the heart? Maybe there are just some things that I need to decide for myself. Maybe this is one of those instances.



Sunday, February 26, 2012

Love Is All


Last night I flirted with the bassist. :) Christine said I was doing a good job at it and was beginning to pick up a little. Anyway, I love their cover of this song and I was thinking of writing a short story based around the lyrics, my experience and just at a concert in general. Once I have it written, I'll post. What do you think, dear readers?


Girls' Night and Penrose


Penrose was at Screwballs last night again; Christine and I went to see them. :) Great as always and afterwards I got to party with the bassist for a little while. It was one of the best nights of my life.






The Album of Awesomeness

Friday, February 24, 2012

Happy 6 Years To Me!

Today is February 24, 2012, which means today marks my 6th account anniversary at Writing.com. It's hard to believe that it was six years ago I was a 16 year old, a month after my suicide attempt and most likely suffering from bipolar disorder that I am now diagnosed as (as well as having hypothyroidism, which back then I was being tested and had no signs), sitting in my computer class and seeing a friend on his Writing.com account. I knew I had to join -- I loved to write and someday I knew I wanted to be famous. Just think, I am sorta famous now!

It's hard to believe how things have progressed since February 24, 2006 in the health realm, my personal realm and my writing career realm. Most of the friends I made in the community are still friends with me. Every account birthday, personal birthday and Christmas the creators send me cards and a small little gift. Even the other writers are loving. That's how I met my best friend in Wisconsin. We became penpals and she became a second mother to me. Sadly, she passed away in 2010 after a long battle with leukemia. Writing.com is not about writing only, but us, the writers and being involved in a loving community.

In celebration of my 6th anniversary, I am going to post my pieces from 2006-2007. Enjoy!

May Blessings
The End of Human
Dimebag Darrell
Seventeen (Remember that post I posted here, well this is the story that I based off... it's funny when not looking for something you find it.)

Enjoy!

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Dew and Sands


My darling, love is found
On the veins of the leaves,
The pulsating motion lives
Day to day, it rises and it sleeps
Making the tree and flowers come alive.

My darling, love is found
Inside the rocks and stones,
The coldest and darkest of places.
It hibernates, but is the strongest
Through turbulence of seas and wind.

My darling, love is found
In the dew of the grass,
Tiny and often forgotten—
It cools in the heat of summer
And warms in the coldest of winter;

But when the dews melt, my darling,
Love is fleeting.
The only thing you can rely on
Is the sun and moon rising,
Setting for the black of nights.
The stars that twinkle and glow,
Eventually burning out;
And the seasons, four in all—
The birth, renewal and death
And the dews and sands of time.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Meine Schweinschen

Original Copy in my Handwriting:


Updated poem that I like much better:


Meine Schweinschen

Meine Schweinschen,
Im meiner Hand geboren
Mit kleinen, schwarzen Augen—
Schone Leid fur mich horen.
Meine Schweinschen,
Mit augen hypnotiersend; dunkelheit
Fuhren zum Himmel, gegen Holle,
Die Englen; sussigkeit.
Meine Schweinschen,
Mit dich, ich spare meine geld—
Ihr Bauch groß und rund,
laufen, um zu spielen im großen Feld.

Meine Schweinschen,
Ich liebe dich!
Ich spare fur meine wanderlust sich!


My Little Pig

My little pig,
In my hand you were born
With small, black eyes—
I hear a beautiful song for me.
My little pig,
With eyes that hypnotize, darkness
Lead me to heaven, against hell,
The sweet angels.
My little pig,
With you, I save my money—
Your belly is fat and round,
Go play in the big, wide field.
My little pig,
I love you.
You help me save for my wanderlust.

Green Bay plans

I found out the other day that the game roster will be available in April. I'll be planning my trip in April and from now to August when I go I will be documenting the journey from planning to going (except I am not bringing my laptop to GBWI again, so I will be journaling and posting bits here after I return). I wrote a travel narrative with last year's trip, this year I want to put out a full travel book about my adventures in Wisconsin.

Dad's ex-coworker's brother-in-law works for the Packers; I wrote him a letter and will be sending it out today:


Lambeau Field Stadium
Attn: Chad Morton
1265 Lombardi Ave.
Green Bay, WI 54304



Dear Mr. Morton,
My name is Jessica Cavaliere and I am a huge Packers fan. I am from King of Prussia, Pennsylvania and my dad (Dave Cavaliere) used to work with your brother-in-law, Larry Lyles. Last year Larry was supposed to call you, but it didn’t work out; I am writing to you in hopes that I can meet you. Meeting you and the Packers would make my year. I will be in Green Bay in August 2012 for a training camp and pre-season game.
Thank you for reading this. I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

Jessica

Monday, February 20, 2012

Drip Dripping


Drip. I’m a rock drip in a sea drip of chaos driiip. She was like a rock in a sea of chaos, her father taught her that long ago. As she lay on the cold marble tile of the bathroom floor she kept thinking as the water dripped, I will not be broken or bullied. Nothing can bully me. Yet, she knew that wasn’t true, when it came to being bullied she was not that rock; no, she is the victim that flails her arms to stop her from drowning but in the process she tires herself out. She was that victim that had no idea how to get out of the swirling eddies despite the cries and failed attempts.

Drip. Drip. Driiip. Her tears are masked by the drip, dripping, drip, dripping of once hot bath water. She lifts her hand up to the edge of the white marble bathtub—she doesn’t want to get up, she wants to lie against the pale yellow bath mat that is neatly thrown amongst the bathroom floor. Mom was always so neat, it always amazed her that her mother found so much joy out of such things as dusting. She feels around the edge of the bathtub—god, where is it? Where is it? She begins to get frustrated—it’s not here! It’s not here! She doesn’t want to get up; the whole room spins, she just needs to sleep, but she can’t sleep and she wants that!

Knock. A loud rap on the door. “Sweetie! Are you in there! You’ve been there for a long time!” “Mom,” she gets the voice to scream, “I am a rock! I am a rock in a sea of chaos—“”Honey, what’s wrong? Open up!” “I will not be bullied or broken!” “Please let me in right now.” “Honey, honey? Are you okay? Please let me in!” After fifteen minutes of fidgeting… 

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Scattertrain Rocks the Ribhouse (the Ribby)




They said they MIGHT use some of my pictures for my site. I know the lead singer's (the one to my right) wife took a picture of me with the band to put on the site. ^_^ One of these days my pictures will be famous along with my writing. ^_^ Editorial later.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Arabic Love Songs and Poetry/ The Sailor of my Heart

In class we are learning about Arabic music and poetry. Most of the songs/poems that are written are about love or romance. Ziad, my friend from Iraq, introduced me to Elissa and I find her voice to be amazing. On an ironic note, last year I wrote this Arabic poem and it has to do with love/romance. It's way before I knew that Arabs love those themes. The poem is found in my book In the Strawberry Patch (2010), but I am going to post here in Arabic and English. Enjoy!

في بحار من قلبي (مروان)

سافر لأميال وأميال،
في بحار من قلبي؛
عينيه على عمق المحيط، والعنبر
الدموع التي تتدفق عندما نكون جزءا منها.

هذا بحار من قلبي،
من أراضي غريبة وبعيدة.
قادمة من السعودية، وغزا بلدي،
مع الجلد، وسيم لامع ولون رمال الصحراء.

شعره باللون الأسود كما في أحلك ليلة،
انها معلقة الماضي كتفيه انسحبت.
تبرز عضلاته، وقال انه لا تفشل
في حالته الصحية. التطبيل له يفتقر إلى أي منهما.

هذا لغز الخارجية جيدة مع اليدين،
يجعل رزقه في فرقة روك ن رول.
أحضر دينيا يظهر، ويصفق لل
كما انه من الصخور. لهجته أبدا لطيف.

شكر لي لرعاية بلدي،
يوقع بكل سرور لمؤتمر نزع السلاح.
انه ودود، والمساعدة بكل سرور مع اللغة العربية
وقصة للكتاب، انه يسلم لي تي.

حتى الآن، وهذا بحار من قلبي
وقد سافر من بلاد بعيدة؛
لا يعرف الشوق لي،
ولكن أنا أحب بلدي العربي وانها ستقف دائما.



The Sailor of My Heart (For Marwan)

He traveled for miles and miles,
The sailor of my heart;
His eyes as deep as an ocean and amber—
Tears that flow when we part.

This sailor of my heart,
From strange and distant lands.
Coming from Arabia, my enigma,
With handsome, shiny skin the colour of desert sands.

His hair is as black as the darkest night,
It hangs past his shoulders pulled back.
His muscles protrude, he does not fail
In his health. His drumming neither lacks.

This foreign enigma good with hands,
Makes his living in a rock-n-roll band.
I religiously attend shows, cheering
As he rocks out. His accent never bland.

Thanking me for my patronage,
He gladly signs the CD.
He is friendly, gladly helping with Arabic
And the story for the book—he hands me a tee.

Yet, this sailor of my heart
That has traveled from distant lands;
Does not know my longing,
But I love my Arab and it will always stand.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

A Myriad of Things

First off, I am on Etsy:

Cheesehead's Shop

The US government now considers me an independent business owner since I made money off of my books. Etsy is nice and it's nice for my scrapbooks, but I am in the process of building my own site for my scrapbooks and books. I am keeping my fingers crossed.

Secondly, my Penrose article made the Quad!



Local Band Mixes Blues and Rock

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Valentine's Day via the Bus

Today is Valentine’s Day and although single, these are the days which remind me I am happy regardless if I am dating or not (always been single on Valentine’s Day). Today on the bus to work, I didn’t even realize I took my phone out of my purse and I unintentionally left it on the bus. A rider saw it and called for me after I got off and handed the phone to me. I was grateful and I hope he heard my gratitude because as Seth put it, “well, that would have sucked” if it hadn’t been for him. It was this man’s act of kindness that helped me recall the positive feelings I get from riding the bus. This is in no way, shape or form a good copy, but it’s a draft for an essay I would like to eventually write.




“It’s filthy!” “You better watch yourself; there are a lot of crazies!” I have heard been thrown around since taking public transportation. Of course, these are the clean versions of more derogatory phrases. Yes, you hear about horrible crimes taking place on city transportation (I still hear it from my grandma, but regardless I still love riding the el and trolley to the city), but for the most part it is not true. Yes, some unsavory characters do ride public, but a majority of the people riding is really nice, law-abiding, and honest people. I have met a lot of honest people on Septa Bus 92 and have made many friends along the way.

“I’m sorry, but you have failed. You did a California roll…” I heard the instructor say. I hated driving, but since I wanted to commute I would have to grin and bear it.

“I’m sorry, you have gone over your six tries,” but everyone sucks at parallel parking I thought. Again, a failure.

That night after mom talked to Buddy, her boss’s son, I was reassured a bus went to West Chester. Hooray, I thought, now I don’t have to worry about anything and I hate driving!

August 2008. Dad and I board the 7am bus to West Chester. We are to meet mom at the University to see the route it takes; where it stops, where it begins and the duration of the trip. A kindly black bus driver greets us and dad and I make instant friends with him—we chat during the whole bus ride and he was the one that helped me along my first week of classes. He was assigned a new route a month after classes began and I never did thank him, but I am grateful for all his help during the confusing first month of being a college student.

Since 2008 I have made countless friends that I gotten to know on a first name basis. When I first started riding the bus in 2008 there was this (what sounded to be) Irish guy that in the five minutes he had to ride the bus we became the best of friends. I didn’t catch his name, however, but he would always bring me tea and gave me a Rammstein shirt. To this day I still have that shirt. I’ve met Claire and Marsha on the bus and we all became instant friends—without the bus I wouldn’t have these two wonderful friends.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Piercing Ideas

Ever since going to South Carolina in 2009 and Anna piercing my cartilage, I have been getting a piercing each year. It has become a ritual. I am going to post my right and left ear, plus a diagram of piercing types. Please, please help me decide what I should get. :)

This is my left ear (above).

My right ear (above).

So, what should I get?

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Polar Plunge Editorial


ذهبت أمس على قطبي يغرق في برانديوين. كان مرح.
The pirates that won 1st place.
أنا يرتدون زي ما يصل في 1968 باعتباره الحزامون الثلج السلطانية بطل (على الرغم من أنني كان على بلدي كلاي ماتيوس جيرسي)، ولكن لم تفز في المسابقة زي. فازت امرأة دربي بكرة الناس يرتدون ملابس مثل القراصنة فاز 1 مكان، 2 وربات البيوت الحقيقية للبراندي فاز 3. أنا شخصيا أحب الرجال يرتدون ملابس مثل ربات البيوت ريال لبراندي. وكان زي على نحو أكثر إبداعا من القراصنة.
ورأيت واحدا من أساتذة من جامعة ويست تشيستر. تحدثنا قليلا قبل أن يغرق ومسابقة الزي. :) لقد التقيت بالعديد من الناس باردة جديدة، لقد تحدثت الى الرجل يرتدون باعتبارها من الفايكنك أولاف سانت (كان هناك في العام الماضي) وزوجته التقطت بعض الصور جيدة لي. ثم التقى كنت طالبا في المدرسة الثانوية من مدرسة بايارد روستين ارتفاع يرتدون باعتبارها سمك القرش. وكان زيه رهيبة، في رأيي.
Dr. Hertel and I.
وكنت عندما جاء الوقت ليغرق، في الجزء الخلفي. أنا جعلت من منتصف الطريق في جميع أنحاء براندي. الماء صدمة لي قليلا، وأنا لا تريد أن تذهب أبعد من ذلك، لأنني لا أريد أن أخوض في صدمة. أنا جعلت من يصل إلى كتفي. وكانت قدمي ويدي خدر. لكن على الرغم من أن استمتعت القفزة، ولعب في الماء قليلا. لا استطيع الانتظار للقيام بذلك مرة أخرى في العام المقبل!







Yesterday I went to a polar plunge in Brandywine. It was fun.
Shark boy and I. :)

I dressed up as a1968 Packers Ice Bowl champion (although I was in my Clay Matthews Jersey), but did not win in the costume contest. The  people dressed like pirates won 1st place, Roller Derby woman won 2nd, and the Real Housewives of Brandywine  won 3rd. Personally, I loved the men dressed like the Real Housewives of Brandywine. The costume was more creative than the pirates.I saw one of the professors from the University of the West Chester. We talked a little before the plunge and costume contest. :) I met many cool new people, I have spoken to the man dressed as a Viking St. Olaf (he was there last year) and his wife took some good pictures for me. Then I met a student from Bayard Rustin high school dressed as a shark. The costume was cool, in my opinion.
Me and the Plungers (though you can't see me)

When it was time for the plunge,  I made it halfway across the Brandywine. The water shocked me a bit and I did not want to go further. I made it up to my shoulders. And my feet and my hands were numb. But despite that fact,I enjoyed the jump and I played in the water a little bit. I cannot wait to do it again next year!