It's easier this way

We'll wait patiently as the tide shifts to the ultrasound of your beating heart. It bleeds through sand covered lots where obligations withhold tired, compassionate tendencies.
Instead, waves crash and your voice shrinks, while sea froth pools across the sand. Their bending refractions paint infant rainbows on your falling eye lash. And as the dust settles from its short fall, so too does a single tear whose significance you have not yet deciphered.
"I love you though, dear friend," said he, as stars of sand skitter across footprints left behind days before. "And through the opportunities missed so often, imply a safeguard of ignorance above every misdeed you hide beneath."

It's easier this way.

Therein lies

the garnered wisdom that is all around.

Therein are the lives forgotten you would find profound.

Therein lies the truth you speak in every word that's said.

Therein lies the beauty in the emptiness ahead.

Of cookies and airports

I had a really troubling dream last night, about a friend who moved down my street just a few weeks ago. Every weekend, she heads back to her family in Tijuana, which is kind of crazy in my mind. I can't help but feel sorry, being so whiny as she goes through more each weekend then I do each season.


Anyway, this kind friend whom I hadn't heard from since the dawn of last weekend wound up in a super vivid dream of mine. She always tells me stories about her kin back home, so I conjured up interesting characters alongside her.
But it was sad.

It ended with our last exchange in an airport. She was leaving back home for good.
Where most of my dreams, including the vivid, feel rushed and hazy, this was of a different breed. The acute details of her face, the words we spoke and the overall vibe was overpowering. Its final moments will be confused with legitimate memories in the years to come.
She smiled sadly, saying "See you around, Kit."
I woke up kind of weepy.

First class of the day is Japanese (the class in which I met her.) Her seat was empty as she had switched out.
But on my desk were a box of cookies, and a quickly written note: "Thank you for everything. I'll See you around, Kit."

Nicknames can make a grown boy cry.

A Poem

Beautiful, yet unnerving
his families tendencies,

Drive down a world still revolving
Still there are the discrepancies

They'd handle each every morning,
with shouting fits all exploding.

Then the son would step outside
where his thoughts would glide

Of how he loved them all so much
With smoky rings he'd stoop to touch.

5 Months later!

It could be worse. I'll pretend nothing has happened in the time between this post and the last. Makes writing this a whole lot easier.

I miss you fellow (yet distant) bloggers! Hope to hear from you soon.

Love, Kristian

Lets find us some help.

I'm applying for another minor art's scholarship that sounds really neat for what it is. In fact, any high school artist around San Diego/LA should probably check into this: http://musiccenter.org/education/spot_visual.html

Only one pieces is required to be sent in; initially a jpeg. If you make it past the preliminary round, you bring your original piece along with other artworks to be reviewed by artsy museum owners in LA. Anyone who makes it past the preliminary round gets their artwork displayed in some gallery and you earn 250 dollars to an art class of your choice. Grand prize earns a 5,000 dollar scholarship. It's a pretty easy thing to apply for, especially since it can be done online-- I really encourage all who read to take part in it.

I need some of your help though; I've narrowed all the directionless art down to what I think is the most presentable, but I need opinions as to what you think is the strongest. It's reviewed really generally under:
• Artistic choices
• Skill and execution
• Originality/Creativity

Any advice would be deeply appreciated. Thank you.

You should major in philosiphy or something like that.

No really. You should. You'd be great.

I met Tyler's brother this weekend. He's just like Tyler, except he's 27 and has tatoo's. It's really cool. He says I look like Wes Anderson. That's my only complaint.


This is Wes Anderson.



This is me.

Wes Anderson has never played an accordion. His older brother remains incorrect like Tyler.

But,

I realized eating dinner with Tyler's family/friends, your relationships with people play out in a much more natural way when you're older. This is the part where I rant about how shallow high school is. (I won't really.)














I'm 16. I have problems.

When this is all over

remember us as your family.