How To Be A Child

In Advanced Theatre Arts (now further referred to as ATA), taught by the wonderful and amazing Mrs. Jones (the ever persistent drama teacher, who works with the little she has and provides an amazing experience for her students who choose to grasp it) has currently begun our first production of the 08-09 school year. This production is called "How to Eat Like A Child". (If I have gotten it wrong and it's actually "How to Be A Child") I'll be quite embarrassed! You see this would be my first year in the ATA program. I was in her second period beginning drama class for the 07-08 school year. My freshman year. Seeing as how I am now a sophomore that would make sense would it not? We've been working on the lines, blocking, and choreography for our prologue (non of which I should give away though how I wish I could!). The choreography being done by the lovely Miss Michelle.

Now that I've prattled on though and giving you background information, perhaps we should move on to something VASTLY more interesting. The point of this blog in the first place.

As a young child (believe it or not those who know me personally) I was shy,quiet... I wasn't the person that everyone in the school new. I went to Saint Scholastica's Academy for girls. (A saint with the most interesting history I just must write about another time!) I was the girl with the bob cut who sat at the back of the room all the time and played by herself. I would constantly be found in the library, or perhaps in the chapel. Once I got to know people a little bit I would be seen tagging a long behind them. Once I had my first crush (who yes despite the baggy school uniform, chewed on fingernails and being one year his junior had a crush on me) I would be seen walking next to him (which is a big step up from walking behind a group of squealing first graders)!

Despite my quite and introverted personality my name was generally known due to my family's prestige in business and past celebrity like things, and my interactions with the fields of modeling and academic competition. I was a cheerleader and enjoyed doing things of the such. I was in the math club and was constantly with my socialite of an aunt. I would be seen in the latest fashion and the such... But i was still shy and quiet, except around a select few people. As I got older and came to the states, I grew to finally accept the spotlight when it came to me and embraced it. It would be wrong of me not to admit that I take center stage whenever I can! (Oh dear... odd statement, my blocking for the first scene of the play I am front and center! oh dear I just gave something away!!!) That transition is another time, but now lets revert to my purpose of the play shall we?

I see this play almost like my chance to be the child I never was. The child I am now. Loud, and hyper, running around the playground not afraid to get hurt little child who talks to everyone. This is my chance to be... well. To simply be what I am now that I wasn't then! It's the chance to just skip around the stage, to be childish. What child does not love to perform, simply to please others? Even better, I get to please children. Show them that when you're older, that it's still okay to do the silly little things that a child does.

My thoughts have stopped seeing as how I'm carrying on several conversations. I'm sorry I really couldn't elaborate on my point, that upsets me. I had so many thoughts and they only come down to this? How terrible of me...

I hope that you all have enjoyed this little orange, or have at least gotten to know me somewhat better... (seeing as how this would only be my second post... all of them are on myspace still!)

Now In the Words of a Great friend named Jonathan:

You may now return to your regular lives.

If a poet had no words, would he leave his poem blank?

I'm not sure about what, but I feel like writing. The emptiness of my thoughts and emotions of the current moment pouring out onto a page. How would that appear? Would a poet, with nothing to write, leave a poem blank?Would a person, with no thoughts on the day, leave a blank page in their journal?If one has no words, one should not speak, yet they do.We carry on conversations without thought sometimes, why do we find words when we have others around.How come sometimes we have no words if there's one certain person in our midst?Maybe it's not that we are at a loss of words, or thought, but that somehow in the translation from thought to sound, it's lost. Perhaps we're not sure how to express ourselves, or how to...well yes express ourselves. Perhaps part of the thought is lost in the thought process, then more is lost in the translation to speech or written hand.Young children speak their minds though, and they know exactly what they mean and what they think. What has happened as we age?Is it that their thoughts are so simplistic that they pass through the channels running from thought to speech so easily without obstruction?Perhaps it is the mere fact that we are hiding ourselves from the world. That we continue to mask who we really are, that we begin to subconsciously filter our thoughts before they are exposed. Then they are not our thoughts at all. They are simply what we wish society to see. Look around you one day and notice, everyone looks "normal". If you were to see someone off beat, wouldn't you think a bit negatively of them?It's this reaction that we fear. As human beings we crave to be loved. Even by complete strangers to some form or level. There are times when we can truly be ourselves. Around other people, or when we are by ourselves. When we put time aside to be with God.Some of us have learned to be ourselves no matter what. Maybe that is why so many people are captivated by poetry.The poets have learned to reveal the nakedness of their thoughts, hearts, souls.
A poet would never leave his poem blank. He would fill his poem with the emptiness of his thoughts. Which in turn, would no longer be emptiness

I never...

...told him that i loved him
Or showed him that i cared
I never ever held him close
I never would have dared...
I never hugged him out of joy
Or even out of sorrow
I never ever would have thought
I wouldn't see him tomorrow
I never held his hand in mine
Or had mine in his...
I never ever would have thought
I'd never get that kiss
I never thought he'd leave me
Or that he'd make me cry
I never ever believed that
I could be so ever shy
I never sat in that tree with him again
Or walked on down that lane
I never ever thought we wouldn't havve the chance
I am a stranger to this pain
I never thought that i would smile
Or laugh in those final moments
I never ever dreamed
I would miss those moments spent...
I never thought my dearest friend
Or my love as you could call him
I never ever gave such notice
I never let it cross my mind...
That my dearest friend
who watched me so silently
That my very dearest love...
That he'd so soon leave me


I'm never going to get over Masaya... I'm going to stop writing about it maybe, and talking about him as much... but... It's so hard to find friends like Masaya Chihara ♥ to find someone who can annoy me so much, yet i can so easily fall in love with.

Every Kiss, Every Moment, Each and Every Glance

Smiling at each other...
shyly from across the room.
the first time that their eyes meet
and they look away quickly with a bashful smile
and rosy red cheeks
the first time their hands touch
just a moments stroke
but the beginning of a lifetime's many moments
the first time they speak to each other
two voices harmoniously joining
laughing with each other like bells
the first time their lips touch
an awkward moment for the both
but a smile from ear to ear
on both of their faces
when they finally part.
anger. frustration. sadness.
now all the author has to do is write the ending.
or can the charachters write this ending themselves?

Someday

i don't want the world to see who i really am... I don't want them to see the girl who cries herself to sleep at night... the one who cries over things hidden deep and pushed far to the back of her heart... I don't want them to know who i really am, what i really feel, what i really do think about... The world could never understand who i really am though... i wish i had someone who knew the real me. who knew what i really am. who i am after peeling away all the layers of lies. i want someoone to know who i am, and to love me as the vulnerable little child i really am
It hurts to think that other people can't understand though... But I am a strong independent young lady. I was raised with manners, and to be polilte, but because I live in the modern day, i am also strong. Everyone is afraid to let the world see who they really are, who they are when no one is looking. I want someone to see who I am when no one is looking, I want to be able to be the real paulina. Paulina who thinks differently then everyone else.
One day I will do amazing things, and the people who never understood me will wonder how I did it.
Truthfully, I will wonder as well.

My Perfect

I always thought i'd be ordinary
i never thought i'd be extraordinary
you make me feel as if i could fly
though night after night still i'd cry
then you kept telling me i was beautiful
making me feel more and more wonderful
still though i didn't believe in myself
shoved my heart to the back of that shelf
then you told me i was strong
that i have been all along
still in the back of my own little mind
courage was something that i couldn't find
and still you kept saying how smart i was
i'd laugh and show off and make all this fuss
but somehow i kept saying i knew
that if i was really smart i'd see things through
the most outrageous one was perfection
calling me perfect as if it were some common infection
the funny part is... at this point i started to give in
i'm just telling you now that you're about to win
I'm not beautiful, strong or perfect
sometimes i feel as if i had some defect
but you... you make me feel
as if all those things about me were real.
when i'm with you i feel beautiful
whispering in my ear that i'm wonderful
when i'm with you i feel strong
because i know that you've been there all along
when i'm with you i know i'm smart
because i chose to give you my heart
when i'm with you, it may not be everyone's perfect
but you know what?
it's mine.

Heart Beats

A simple string
on an every day instrument
to me thought
it is more
it makes a sound
reverbrating through my body
it sounds different dependoing on who plays
it is a beautiful melody
a song that single note
it's so hard to explain
but... the notes i play
continue through my soul
they are my heart beats.