Tao's Tellings XX: Such College. Wow.

     Very responsibilities. And yes, that meme is WAY too old. I am too tired to care.

     So! It's been quite a while since my last feature. I apologize; the problem with taking three creative writing classes in one semester is...all you do is write for those classes, all the time. The good news is, I get lots of practice and in-class feedback! The bad news is...I don't get a social life, or sleep, or much of anything beyond oxygen. This will probably be the case for the rest of the semester, and then I'm going to Japan for two weeks around Christmas time! Yea, indeed, Tao will be scarce on deviantART for a while. I still love you guys, though! I'm getting on whenever I can, I swear. Still, consider me to be on a semi-hiatus-thing. Sigh.

     Before I go on with the features, I'd like to extend a belated--but no less sincere--thanks to Arichy and inknalcohol for the DD on Mo (1,315w). It is such an honor. I can't quite wrap my mind around the fact, even now.

     M'kay. Moving on!

Literature

love letters to introvertsi.
To the boy who prefers spending Friday nights at home:
the world does not understand how beautiful silence sounds
sometimes. 
As you crack open that book you've been waiting to read,
  or plug in your computer,
    or listen to music,
      or, 
         or, 
            or, 
or maybe just stare at the night sky from your bedroom window-
(please) remember what everyone else seems to forget;
that being alone does not always equal lonely--
and that sometimes no company is the best company there is. 
ii.
To the girl who does not speak up in class: 
I was once you. 
You are not deficient, I promise, despite everyone telling you otherwise. 
You might be the only one who will ever know the universes 
tucked inside your head, 
because they are beautiful secrets you cannot bring yourself to share,
for fear that they might be vandalized. 
When you speak, the mechanisms of ocean waves When I was little, I loved sea foam.
Running forward to the shore, I would watch waves lap up at my feet and then recede, dragging the sand under my feet back with it. Sea foam would fringe the edges of these silky waves like lace, and I would grab at it, cup it in my hands. I would remember the origins of Aphrodite (born of sea foam, risen out of the ocean as the most beautiful goddess of all), and I would cradle it, hold it close to me, as if I could absorb it into my being.
By the time I brought the sea foam up to my face, it had leaked through my fingers, dissolved. Leaning down, I would cup it again and again and again, gathering fragile lace like a fine seamstress, hoping to maybe sew it onto the edges of myself, make myself some semblance of Aphrodite. Yet it crumbled, leaked through my fingers, leaving only the trace of salt behind.
Eventually I gave up on the sea foam. One cannot keep chasing after things that just barely exist.
 
***
My father told me never to plunge int t e n
***
"I am. I am. I am." 
- The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath
***
i.                    
When she was eight years old, she couldn't see. She would reach out, thin arm trembling, eyes squinting, trying to peer at a distant image that refused to materialize under her gaze. Face crumbling, she would close her eyes, giving up.
 Two days later, when she discovered she could no longer read the chalkboard no matter how much she squinted, she told her parents in a fit of tears. Her mother pursed her lips, looking disappointed. Her father gave a hearty chuckle.
 “You need glasses, that’s all,” he said, fingering his own thick wire rims.
 A week later, she was given a pair of her own—much smaller than her father’s, and dark pink. Sliding them on her face, she looked into the mirror. Her face looked distorted—but clear, vivid. She could

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219the sky looks larger when
I see it through your eyes
the burden of infinity
shared 252, Space and sandyou write too much...I
cannot run fast enough to catch up with
your words
in a universe where stars are dying each minute
I worry about us
missing it all
just waiting for ink to dry
that's ok
I've got enough sand
to fill a desert bigger than your heart
supernovas explode in your eyes
as I sit down beside you 258, cornersI'd follow you
Anywhere
But would you
Please
Tell me
Where we're going
These dark corners
are quite uncomfortable

PostcardsYou send me
bits and pieces of your world
in too bright postcard pictures
with no return address
A world of plastic cutout landscapes
garish with artificial perfection
and scribbles of hurried platitudes
I wish you would come home
and stop holding who you are 
at arms length  leavingWhen I was 3
A great-grandma left for a place I couldn't understand
She left behind a quilt with red flowers
and an understanding of 'not coming back'
that settled on my heart
light as cotton wisps
 
When I was 8
My best friend left for China
She left secrets and whispers and letters
that said everything but what they meant
A soft kind of lonely
gentle as satin thread
wrapped around my heart
When I was 13 
A family friend left for prison
He left behind confusion and broken promises
The hurt behind lies and the shame behind the weight of action
Mistrust, like rough baler twine coiled around my heart
the knots biting deep in tender places
When I was 16 
My cousin left for heaven
He left behind
a trail of twisted metal and shattered glass
along the ditch bank of a country road
Dark scars on the tree that took the impact of his truck
A vacuum of emptiness where he should have been
And a pain laced so heavy with fear
that none of us could carry it 
grief is like barbed w Hard ThingWhen they blow in
on a gust of frosty air,
red-cheeked and snow-dusted
A whirl of laughter and stomping boots
Its hard to remember
To set 5 places
Instead of 6

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Adriatic Seai gave the ocean my heart
in the hopes that sirens
would wring what was left
of rotting, clogged veins.
upholstered from all i knew -
               hopes and dreams
               and summer kisses,
               promises never kept
               and secrets breathed into the ears
               of effervescent sprites -
i gave it up. all of it.
just so they could devour
the memory of you. Dictionaryi witnessed you
drowning
in words that made
no sense
but stung
as you choked on
your vowels
and spat out
consonants,
trying to gasp
a coherent breath
in a sea of
language

Art

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Aaaand that's all for today!