Frame of Reference

A very smelly, yet beautiful pool/geyser in Yellowstone. Smelled like sulfur. View of the Teton's from Yellowstone. Grand Teton's in Teton National Park, right before Yellowstone in Wyoming

Eastern Wyoming CarHenge in Alliance, Nebraska Seward, Nebraska A way to last.

Because sometimes, things make as much sense as a pink elephant holding a martini glass.

I don't understand. Nothing inside of me understands either. Understanding doesn't change anything though, does it?

Hush - Voices Carry. It is my sister's court date today. I woke up the same time that she has to be woken up for it. She'll most likely sit, awake, ready for an hour to get on the bus that takes her to court. Even if nothing happens today, which she firmly believes, I hope that she isn't too scared. I feel incredibly protective of her. I want to scream at the prosector and make sure that they know to use words that Holly can understand. I want to make sure everyone explains things to her in such a way that she actually gets it. She will nod that she understands, even if she doesn't, to not bring attention to herself. It reminds me of the ball pit my sister and I were in at Chuckecheeze. I would push her down the slide and pelt her with balls. She would get irritated and whine and try to chase me around. But I was bigger, older, and in control. Another little boy came through, saw what I was doing, and started hitting her with balls too. She started crying. I walked over...

I thought. I think. Look up Defying Gravity from the Glee Cast. Look up One Second by Tegan and Sara.

With the stars in the sky above me, I rolled down my windows and flew, the wind playing over my hand. In a very self absorbed moment, I thought: I frustrate. I'm good at it. I do things differently. I take words literally and I hardly ever speak anything but figuratively. My silence drives people crazy. I have to take what it is in my head and translate it. Sometimes I get lost. I get lost in eyes and voices and the way lips move and mouths form words. It's splattered on canvases that rest behind my own eyes. I have to make sense of it. I am slow. I am slow to respond and slow to believe. I don't connect easily, hardly at all, ever. It's not easy to know me. I don't make it simple. I have heavily guarded fortresses that need to be climbed over, through, and demolished. Just when you think you've done it, four more walls are erected with a smirk. I stare at nothing at all. Sometimes in the middle of sentences or stories or moments. I stare for too l...