Dust

I love my red bookshelves

they’re covered in stuff

there’s so much stuff

stuff stuff stuff

sea shells from that trip to california

books i never read but still love

unfinished art projects

my dagger from shakespeare festival 

a glass pepsi bottle i found by a dumpster 

dried roses from shows and people and parents

sunglasses i never wear 

cards and notes from my family and friends

piggy banks filled with coins

just stuff

stuff collecting dust

i’m collecting dust

But cleaning it off means growing up

and im just not ready yet

i don’t want to say goodbye

can’t i just stay here in my dust a little longer

please

please im not ready

To Red Cup

keep those crayons close to your chest hoping no one will see them

because when we were children we sometimes fought eachother

children only fight with wax and words for so long before they turn to throwing bricks

and when the bricks hit

our hearts will beat just to push forward through life

And while we might not need love

we’ll continue to do it anyways because that what makes life worth living

Building a Boat

The ad stapled to the telephone pole, the kind with the phone number strips at the bottom-

that’s my heart-

I’m giving out pieces of it

and maybe that’s dangerous,

but i trust you to take better care of it than i will-

so on the days when my mind is crushing the heart left inside of me,

that piece that i gave away will keep living,

and just so you know that little piece is going to care too much for its own good, but it will try its hardest to be there for you

so please keep it safe

its trying i swear

Dancing in the Street

So some preface. This video? Almost the best video I have discovered on the internet, other than maybe the tap dancings noses…… But anyways, I sent it in to Mr. Nelson along with my 24 second video thinking that he would just watch it, think I’m crazy, and be done. But noooo he shows it to the class…….. I mean am I glad I enlightened the entire class? Yes Yes I am. But was I prepared to become the random video girl on top of the over achiever? Definitely not….

So….. I mean…..

Hello, it’s me

I am feeling a lot better about revealing my self now that I made this ridiculous video.

I could have been serious, but then again, the video made me cry, and if I cry watching a dumb video, I’ll die writing something serious right now.

But seriously, blogs have been the best thing to happen to me in a long time.

I love all of you guys

Howler Monkey, the Hansens, and my Father

COMMON NAME: Howler Monkeys

SCIENTIFIC NAME: Alouatta

TYPE: Mammals

DIET: Omnivore

GROUP NAME: Troop

AVERAGE LIFE SPAN IN THE WILD: 15 to 20 years

SIZE: Head and body: 22 to 36 inches; tail: 23 to 36 inches

WEIGHT: 15 to 22 pounds

My dad and his friends were pretty dumb, and basically represent everything I thought my highschool experience would be….. definitely not what has ended up happening…. They read Far Side comics together at eachothers houses, and one day came up on the Howler Monkey’s and the Hansens.

Looking at this comic now….. Am I confused as to why this is so funny?? Definitley. Maybe my humor has just been warped.

Anyways….. Like the smart people they were, they realized this was a call to action. And the action? Climbing on their teachers and football coaches roofs and ‘howling’ in the middle of the night.

This went on for a while, and became a sort of teenage boy cult, they each had monkey names and in order to be ‘in the club’ you had to eat a pint of Chunky Monkey ice cream. I have tried to eat a pint of ice cream by myself on multiple occasions, and have failed miserably every single time.

Guess I’ll just never be as cool as my dad

This became a running joke in the highschool, and the administration was spared no mercy, night after night of howling…up until someones clothing got stuck on a teachers barbed wire fence…….

Lets just say that the Howler monkeys were more cautious after that.

But yeah, thats why my pen name is what it is I guess…..

Update on Harold

Some of you might remember my post that mentioned the spider living in my bathroom….

https://howlermonkeys878.wordpress.com/2020/11/07/ibuprofen-and-the-spider/

So…. They are still alive, and recently joined my family for dinner.

I figured out that they have been traveling from the vent in our bathroom through the walls and then coming out of the little hole where our chandelier is…

I guess Harold is now a permanent family member.

ALSO THERE WAS A WASP AND WE DON”T KNOW WHERE IT WENT

still

still scared to look you in the eyes the eyes i know are staring right at me willing me to look up but i cant because this might not be real; ill just hope you wont care that i cant look right now because im scared ill never be able to

I still pull back the shower curtain at night just in case

still scared ill never be enough for someone and those someones i try to be enough for will only ever see the broken person that got left behind; no one to see all the tape and glue and smiles i used to put my self back together so for once we could hold hands and look like a whole and i’m scared that will never happen

I still check under the sink for gremlins

still scared i’m letting you down when i could have been more so much more than this body and brain will ever let me show you; failing to let you see that i can be something worth noticing and i’m scared you’ll never notice

I still run up the stairs after turning out the lights

still scared that ill grow up and have nothing to show to the child i destroyed when its all over; nothing to prove it was worth it all the years of crying and dying inside while i smiled to the outside world because thats what they wanted to see and i’m scared i failed the child

I still lock my car doors when I get inside

still scared of the pressure to live a good life when all i want to do is live in the moment and love in the moment and breathe in the moment but the moments not a life and a good life is all that matters to them; but what if a moments all it took for you to live and to love and to breathe and it doesn’t take a life it takes an hour a minute a second and i’m scared ill miss the second

I still sleep facing my door so if the houses catches fire I’m ready to go

still scared of myself and the things i can do to ruin the life inside of my mind thats trying to crawl into the world by way of mouth and hand deperate to reach the eyes and ears of another; i’m scared

On the floor of the classroom

write from the soul

but it hurts

pierce your heart with the lead of the pencil left for dead 

don’t be poetic

there’s so much noise in this silent room

breathe god damn it

bite the tip of your tongue

and the tip of the words not fit for day

hope whatever you do its enough

cause the pencils growing shorter

I

Maybe I’ve been faking it

the worlds moving fast

my fingers are sweaty

when I come home

her eyes look disappointed

it’s never really silent

wave upon wave of radio static

just lay out my guts so they know what I’m thinking

what is he thinking

will my brain just shut up

am I enough?

Dear me,

I’m not good at the whole loving yourself thing

I excel at the hating yourself thing

So this is my different

Dear me, 

I love the birthmark on our back and the scar across our nose, the way we dance to the music in our head and how we throw ourselves at the world and worry about the consequences later. 

I love that we are still scared of the dark after all of these years and that we karate chop the shower curtain at night just in case there’s something behind it. 

I love that we can feel music inside of us at all times and how our brain never shuts up and the random knowledge we’ve kept inside of us so we can make silent moments wish they had stayed silent. 

I love the callusses on the fingertips of our left hand and our stick out ears, the way we obsess over our books and how we live through the music we make.

I love that we try too hard to live 

This doesn’t feel right, I don’t know how to write a love letter, to myself, or anyone else for that matter. 

I wish you would notice all the things that I notice, I wish you would let me remember them. I hate looking in the mirror and seeing someone I love but thinking, that isn’t me. Why can’t we coexist? There aren’t two of us, it’s just one, and still, I fight with you every day to just live 

I love you, I still love you, just remember that tomorrow, please.