Best of Me

My brother often asks me what super power I would have if I could, usually so he can say his and trump mine. But in the fantasies that run through my head at night, when I'm chosen to be the hero and help save people with my friends, when the choice comes for what power I want, mine never matched the ones I gave my brother as a response. Never time manipulation, or the ability to make my own world at a whim and go there whenever; even the ability to have total matter and energy manipulation are forsaken. In the depths of insomnia and imagination, I always choose that I would be able to see exactly the very best I could do in any situation. What Kay's 100% looked like. Anytime. If I did my very best, could I make this jump? Save my friends? Come to terms with the worst of me? And I know the answer.

I am an observer. I have strong opinions of both sides. Both sides always have a point, a strong, logical, valid point. I see both of the sides. They crash into each other loudly, both glaring into the others eye and refusing to see their own reflection in it. Both shout just as loud, both hit just as hard, both hurt just as much. One says 'heads', the other 'tails'. All I can see is different sides of the same coin. All I can see is similarities in the strife of difference.

I don't get into relationships. Not serious ones. I am a friend. I end there. Often, I argue with myself. Blood pumping muscle: "Don't hold back! Have some fun, and just trust him! You really like this one Kay!" Frontal Lobe: "Kay, you will get used. You become more vulnerable, less of yourself, and honestly, even though you have come to terms with yourself, you will lose your ability to make rational decisions on what is most important to you. Learn from the past, yours and others. You know this is not a good idea." So I am split once again in that painful duel of heart versus head. Both sides are most certainly things that are very important to me. Both things are ripping me to shreds. I lose sight of Best. What matters the most, or what did matter becomes a little skewed. Brain wins, and stands correct. Heart hurts, but recovers. Heart wins, hurts, recovery is much longer. Brain still stands correct.

As time goes on, Brain wins more and more, Heart hurts more and more. Best laughs far too hard as it watches me try and figure out where it is. What it is. What am I supposed to do?

-Kay Rhyme

A long awaited update of possibly good news.

I will resume posting. It will be a posting of various things, words, pictures, and maybe that one thing that you really needed to read. This was mostly inspired by Robots own sketch journal, even though he seems to have stopped for good. So here's to change, and a hope that I get somewhere.

Cooking and Compliments.

It all began in second period, drama, when I took on a curling iron in battle.
I digress, this, is hyperbole.
It was really Abbey ( sunny and beloved fellow actor at the particular period ) giving me ringlets while Raquel ( expert and ingenious director at the particular period ) was going over some character analysis. In the beginning of the process, I looked like a poodle. But, skill and practice prevailed in Abbey's hands so by the end of it I was not particularly resentful towards the way my hair had put every once of tornado imitation it had into its appearance. It could not have been more than four seconds later when my position on the matter took a swift and powerful roundabout turn when somebody is the room said "You look so cute."

I. Don't. Enjoy. Being. Called. Cute. I don't enjoy getting hearing words that are typically in compliments because they should either, A) Should be sent back to the factory of ABC's to be recycled into a new word or, B) struck mercilessly by the same being that annihilates people in the name of grammar. Or, so I thought.

For the next few class periods I would attempt to vanish into the back of the classroom and repel any sort of attention to myself. But, right as I was booking it to my car, I was stuck once again by an audible attack. "I love your hair, it looks really refined." I was astonished when I found myself smiling, not recoiling, when it was done.

I couldn't figure out why this was, at least not until I got another compliment a little later. "Well, it looks classy. You pull it off well." Then it clicked. I did like compliments. Just not compliments that someone gives anyone where they appear different. The have a ring of a cough-out in my ears. Thus, once again, intelligence in all things prevails.

Once I had gotten home and eaten dinner I went downstairs to watch Julie and Julia. Which then made me to finally go and make a blog. No, I don't plan on getting famous. I plan to consistently spew words out into cyberspace for no one really to read them. I figure that blogging is just like fishing in the middle of a storm. You can't see a fish anywhere in sight, you are really just doing it for yourself.

I do, however, to style my writing kind of after a long-form improv style. I have not yet decided it it will be like The Herald, or The Community.

In the meantime, take a chiller and stay.
-Kay