tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53156140323920184672024-02-06T21:22:29.777-05:00From Poetry, To ProseAnd though she be but little, she is fierce.
-A Midsummer Night's DreamNicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14673379706926664342noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5315614032392018467.post-15477628469706165312011-08-01T00:30:00.000-04:002011-08-01T00:30:44.082-04:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf2TSDEvF-5VZ48y6uJXN7t-WeOnRpDjW_tHbSm-J642ZhYJdIQLlb49mu1Y9tThu_9hrhuWaXMQVVfzvTRarfHJG0YLjdiotOc0qX2-G1P_u7KsyKPsifLw2YhZRKW8v0vqHFWByysss/s1600/collage4.jpg"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf2TSDEvF-5VZ48y6uJXN7t-WeOnRpDjW_tHbSm-J642ZhYJdIQLlb49mu1Y9tThu_9hrhuWaXMQVVfzvTRarfHJG0YLjdiotOc0qX2-G1P_u7KsyKPsifLw2YhZRKW8v0vqHFWByysss/s320/collage4.jpg" border="0" /></a><div style='clear:both; text-align:NONE'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14673379706926664342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5315614032392018467.post-58220865601341844212010-07-19T22:23:00.002-04:002010-07-19T23:39:33.840-04:00chyeaSometimes I wish I could be an angsty teenager again. I just had such good things to say back then. I guess that college ruined me. I guess I'm just over dramatic. College. Psh. What's the point? Other than making my parents proud...I'm not sure. Don't get me wrong, I have had some fabulous experiences and met some wonderful people, and I've even learned some stuff but the entire institution of higher learning is well...a little stupid. <div><br /></div><div>I sort of want people to read this blog. But it's just weird. Why are we so vain? People for years and years have kept private, secret, hidden journals. But in the last decade people have decided that they should get to whine ...in public. And then other people read it? I don't need people knowing all of my drama queen business!</div><div><br /></div><div>Speaking of Drama Queen, I have not been living up to my title these past few months (years). I was such a glamazon back in the day and now I'm just gross. Something has got to give. An old friend actually said something to me a month ago about it and I can't stop thinking about how lame I have gotten. I used to love a good scandal and now...they just float around me, always out of reach.</div><div><br /></div><div>Whatever. Maybe I'll write a book called "How Nicole got her Groove Back". And then I'll have more shoes than Carrie Bradshaw.</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe.</div><div><br /></div>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14673379706926664342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5315614032392018467.post-91445584510405430942010-05-24T18:48:00.003-04:002010-05-24T18:55:23.385-04:00Imagine my surprise when you loved me back<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2jHpeS4Z2bkpJLZ00Dc7EFniq9cTuaW6donX3FiY-UAR5t7c0TJDGta05m8MxmPZZM7LEWaodDufJNLBKsZ1n2LB-OIZddFy7nXvA0e_FWZjMjEKyyAI1kzNpY_mj6n9BRllAeJpRGw/s1600/imagine.jpeg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2jHpeS4Z2bkpJLZ00Dc7EFniq9cTuaW6donX3FiY-UAR5t7c0TJDGta05m8MxmPZZM7LEWaodDufJNLBKsZ1n2LB-OIZddFy7nXvA0e_FWZjMjEKyyAI1kzNpY_mj6n9BRllAeJpRGw/s320/imagine.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474972840323072498" /></a><br /><br />This is from PostSecret. If you live under a rock, PostSecret is a website in which millions of people mail in their secrets. It is awesome. Anyway, this phrase is all I keep thinking. For my very devoted readers out there (which, let's be honest, totals to no more than 1) I think you should get to hear about my happy ending. <br />I'm sure that you're felt the anguish in my posts and cried along with me. Well, rejoice friend! The world is finally spinning at a pace that I can function in. It took 8 and a half months, but everything is right.<br /><br />We're together again. Now, after reading the last post, you're probably shaking your head at me. I would be too. It doesn't really make sense, which is why we aren't telling anyone yet. Tomorrow will be a week, and as much as I want to stand on a mountain and sing, I understand. He and I had a talk, a real talk. Most talks are me...talking and him staring into space. Needless to say, they aren't very productive. But this time, for the first time in a LONG time, he talked. And finally...explained. And he was right. And I apologized. <br /><br />And let's face it. Sometimes two people just find each other and ...there is just no one else.<br /><br />we're those people.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14673379706926664342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5315614032392018467.post-32518851734578717432010-05-18T13:59:00.002-04:002010-05-18T14:02:13.350-04:00He's just not that into youYou have no idea how applicable that saying is for me.<br />NO ONE IS "JUST THAT INTO ME". <br />My ex-boyfriend/love of my life, for example. He apparently was hooking up with some girl for a few weeks and I found out and he said he'd stop, because we're trying to "work things out". So, this friday he is hosting an Open Mic Night at his place and invites me...AND THIS GIRL. So, when I confronted him and told him that it just made me feel weird to be around her, and that frankly it was a bit disrespectful, he said<blockquote>"Well, you don't have to come then.</blockquote><br /><br /><br />Fuck my life.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14673379706926664342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5315614032392018467.post-55823985126145944202010-05-11T11:26:00.003-04:002010-05-11T11:42:28.167-04:00I love the 90sI really do, it is probably because it was the decade of my childhood. It was so glorious, I wouldn't trade it for the world. In fact most of my favorite music is from that decade. I am secretly in love with Kurt Cobain, I am not so secretly in love with 3EB, and I still have all of my My Little Ponies.<br /><br />So, let us now discuss the point of this blog. "Run Around" by Blues Traveler, which came out in 1994. I have heard this song probably thousands of times of the radio over the past 16 years. I can't believe it took me until this week to realize just how AWESOME this song is. Let me give you a little except<br /><blockquote>"Tra la la la la bombardier this is the pilot speaking<br />And I've got some news for you<br />It seems my ship still stands no matter what you drop<br />And there ain't a whole lot that you can do<br />Oh sure the banner may be torn and the wind's gotten colder<br />Perhaps I've grown a little cynical<br />But I know no matter what the waitress brings<br />I shall drink in and always be full<br />Yea I will drink in and always be full" </blockquote><br /><br />I just want to stand up in the middle of my Intro to Literature course and yell "YES!" I now further love my life because the song has its own Wikipedia article...<span style="font-style:italic;"> Double Yes!</span><br /><br />This post marks me being okay. The quote that I put up there is how I feel. My ship is still standing, and no matter what it will continue to stand. It is such a good feeling. I know that I will have some grand love, something wonderful. I will. <span style="font-style:italic;">I will.</span>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14673379706926664342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5315614032392018467.post-5209693146599940832010-05-06T09:42:00.002-04:002010-05-06T09:47:41.013-04:00Some people end up together..& some people just end.I guess I got the latter. I always wonder what makes a relationship work. I see couples who have been together for what seems like forever and ...they're still happy. They're still having fun, they're still together. Is it me? Probably. Do I care? not really. <br /><br />I am not going to let this "break up" rule me. <br />Because I am a woman, and I am strong.<br />I will still listen to all our "our" songs & I will still sing very loudly and rock out when appropriate.<br />I will not stop myself from crying when I am sad, but I will wake up in the morning and continue on.<br /><br />I can't be, nor will I try to be anything that I am not. That has never been my character and it never will be. All I can do is continue breathing in the same patterns that I always have, and hope for the best.<br /><br />Because the best is yet to come. I will love and be loved. I am worth love.<br /><br />I am.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14673379706926664342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5315614032392018467.post-20844408982130057692010-04-30T00:49:00.002-04:002010-04-30T00:55:50.589-04:00"I'm not not moving on"I mean, it's legit. That's what people do right? They move on. Why does that seem like such an incredibly hard idea for me to grasp? Not having him is almost tolerable..but moving on. I could almost laugh at it. All I can do is breathe my way through today, and tomorrow, and the next few days after that..and maybe by then it'll be just a little bit easier. <br /><br />Maybe it's for the best too. <br />I so badly want to backspace that.<br />But maybe it is. I mean..I know how much I have to offer someone, how much love I am more than willing to give. <br />So what happens when the kind of love that you want to give someone isn't the kind of love that they need. I have been loving the same boy, unashamedly for over three years now, and everyday it gets clearer and clearer that it just isn't right.<br /><br />So what, do I live the single 20's life? That's cool, I guess. Oh God, do I have to go through unrequited love again, like in high school? Are people going to (want to) take me out on dates? <br /><br />I don't want any of those things. But, I guess that's what life is going to give me.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">So when I see you<br />In spite of all that we've become<br />I'm still blinded<br />But I'm still staring down the sun</span>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14673379706926664342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5315614032392018467.post-8040464590177937002010-04-28T15:11:00.000-04:002010-04-28T15:23:27.635-04:00Dreaming with a broken heartJohn Mayer isn't my favorite. Here really isn't all that cute, plus that whole Jennifer Aniston thing really proved that no matter how much he croons, he is still a jerk. ANYWAY. No matter how much of a jerk he is, I can't help but love his songs, well, mostly just the older ones.<br /><br />I have been dreaming with a broken heart, for quite a while now. Maybe you know what that is like. In case you don't I can easily sum it up. It is incredibly painful and absolutely no fun. <br />It's such a surreal feeling too. When your heart is broken, for you it is like time stops. Like everything that mattered or seemed so real...just isn't. But no matter how much your life has stop, the world refuses to stop too. The sun will rise, and the clouds will rain. Babies will be born, and Cancer will infect those you love. Since my heart has broken, all of these things have happened. <br /><br />I am so incredibly angry that we are over. it isn't fair. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. We found each other, which is all two people can really ever ask for. To find someone. And, I found my someone. And we were supposed to be happy forever. I am just very angry because that isn't what happened. It's like someone gave me something incredibly beautiful as a gift, and then took it away. And every day now all I can do is think about the beautiful gift that I had. <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ON5_ZdX4WnQuFbNG4nAT89yxL6QiQ3oSVPbql6JtdZtttqxe9JVY2DgTGQI6Cc3PmLQWUQOgqDMSP1DJzjl0kXfZk35BJha4p-84VXf2AFBeh2jfQEDD5Hz2PNGHZryWhf3fCyJ6f-4/s1600/happy+once.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ON5_ZdX4WnQuFbNG4nAT89yxL6QiQ3oSVPbql6JtdZtttqxe9JVY2DgTGQI6Cc3PmLQWUQOgqDMSP1DJzjl0kXfZk35BJha4p-84VXf2AFBeh2jfQEDD5Hz2PNGHZryWhf3fCyJ6f-4/s320/happy+once.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465270997369832066" /></a>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14673379706926664342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5315614032392018467.post-54495552403275092042009-05-22T11:37:00.000-04:002009-05-22T12:04:29.669-04:00Everything is Rent!<span style="font-style:italic;">"</span>Vive la vie boeheme!<span style="font-style:italic;"></span><br /><br />When I was 16, my friend and her parents took me to go see RENT (thank you, thank you, thank you!) The movie had just come over, but I never see a movie before the show (So, no I haven't seen Mama Mia and I don't want to!) If you never got a chance to see RENT on Broadway... I'm sorry. It's closed now, and it makes my heart sad, because I'd love to see it again. Thankfully, the movie is FANTASTIC! It's got most of the original cast in it and, is the only thing that is going to get me though exams. My roommate (also, a kindred soul) and I have re-found our RENT obsession. We laugh, we cry, we sing really loudly, we get in trouble by our RA (shh). It doesn't matter, it's so worth it. It's the most inspiring movie of all time.<br />GO GET IT!<br />IT'S GREAT, I PROMISE!Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14673379706926664342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5315614032392018467.post-41158295995325669792009-05-10T22:14:00.000-04:002009-05-10T22:26:31.162-04:00Heyyy Momma!So, It's mother's day. Go Moms! My mom (and dad and brother) came to visit me at College for the day and it was really nice. I got my mom a hat that says "Delaware Mom" and a book about Abigail Adams. My mom has a new found love for American History, and Abby Adams was definitely the first American "you go girl" kinda Woman.<br />My mom is just really great. Honestly. I mean, not that your mom isn't great, but Mary is one fine woman. (Plus my brother didn't get her a present so I am SO the favorite child now!!)<br />And because Verizon is awesome and had a Mother's day Sale, My mom and I got new phones! (yay!) My last phone has been through hell and back (no...seriously) and I've had it since I was about...17? But my new one is just beautiful.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBABVlDkjgmjdqJeJAXnqJVYIsqRsWnNhIl0ezLhY8EtLgbD6PmS0j_YF878-zEOWjp-TWn7CNl-tANGv-o39mrS3mFnLJ9Ko7Lolgr_Fxb2QaLJX1Debaf3kieY2LhtF1lF1sE80-N2Y/s1600-h/lg_voyager_1_b.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 203px; height: 158px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBABVlDkjgmjdqJeJAXnqJVYIsqRsWnNhIl0ezLhY8EtLgbD6PmS0j_YF878-zEOWjp-TWn7CNl-tANGv-o39mrS3mFnLJ9Ko7Lolgr_Fxb2QaLJX1Debaf3kieY2LhtF1lF1sE80-N2Y/s320/lg_voyager_1_b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334385166958791682" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Let's see, I've only got a few weeks of school left. UD is a stupid school that keeps their students locked away until June :( But, it's alright I suppose. I just can't wait to be done. I've got a townhouse to live in all by myself this summer. I think it's going to be good for me. I just need to find a second job to get my rent paid. Being 19 sucks. It really does. I'm not an adult, I don't know how to operate my life yet, and I'm not a kid who can just whine until my parents will do it for me. I'm the awkward middle stage. Fantastic.<br /><br />Okay Okay, so not to toot my own slut horn (I can't give myself credit for that wonderful phrase, sadly enough) I love this one. Love. A rareity. In my Creative Writing class we were each to look at the same picture and write a poem, it was really cool to see what everyone wrote. The picture was simple and stick figure man pulling along a heavy looking key through a forrest.<br /><br />It started off as a tiny secret<br />that could be locked behind a tiny door<br />sealed shut with a tiny key of regret<br />But years of lies lured the tiny secret to grow more.<br />Feeding off of fear it grew and had to be moved<br />to a place not so tiny now, in a place quite far away<br />it had grown and no longer could its flaws be smoothed.<br />“You mustn’t return I’ve got to move on”, he’d say.<br />The man to whom the not so tiny secret belonged<br />was afraid and he’d run from spot to spot<br />with the not so tiny key following along<br />“I hate you secret, I want you not!”<br />He said as he stuttered and sputtered, choked with fear<br />pushing and pulling and panting and gasping as hard as he could<br />but keeping his voice down all the while, afraid someone may hear.<br />And he pulled that monstrous key, and locked the secret for good.</span><br /><br /><br /><br />And, just for some fun: http://www.fromkeetra.com/posts.php?post=055<br />My boyfriend always seems to find fantastical things on the internet, this being one of them.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14673379706926664342noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5315614032392018467.post-80730660882571699532009-05-09T14:05:00.000-04:002009-05-09T14:38:23.483-04:00Oh Snap!They really don't give you much to work with in the Font area. I'm going to have to dust off my brain and start to remember how to fix the HTML, but that's for a later date.<br />Anyway, so now I have a blog. I mean, why not? I'm young, hip, and cool.<br />... right.<br />So, maybe someone will what to read this. And if not, C'est la vie. So, let's make this one interesting.<br /><br />How do you make friends? Seriously. Because I don't have any.*<br />*disclaimer: yes I do, I'm just whiny and over exaggerate a lot.<br />I have friends..just not in my nearby vicinity. And when I say "friends" I mean people that call you up on a friday night so you don't have to make you boyfriend come over because you're crying and scare the living daylights out of him and make him give you the rest of his chinese food because it's the only thing that might help.<br /><br />..not that I'm speaking from personal experience or anything.<br /><br />So, you can chew that one over, lemme know how it tasted, or just spit it back in my face, I'll understand.<br /><br />ALSOOO<br />I think it's time for me to come out of my shell and share what I write.<br />here's piece number one. I wrote it last year in my creative writing class. There's been quite a bit of editing, and I still feel like something is off, but... I can't figure it out. Maybe you can.<br />Also, I'd like to add that this is a huge step for me, I hate being an English major because I hate having my work read. It's time for me to get over that.<br /><br />I entitled it Morbidity. Because..that's what it is.<br /><br />Pull me up, I’m falling behind, and I cannot reach this top alone<br />Come back- don’t leave; I will not make it on my own.<br />Follow me, let’s lie in the field, and let the tall grass consume our minds.<br />Watch the Northern Lights, as they burn our eyes.<br />Purple fading into green, Oh! And how the blue one dances so<br />don’t turn your back, where will you go? No, not yet, no<br />this is not your time, this time belongs to me, it is mine.<br />I have heard the voices, I have seen the signs.<br /></p> <span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I will sew our skin together, so you cannot tear away.<br />We’ll thrive in nights and hide from day.<br /> <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /> <!--[endif]--></span>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14673379706926664342noreply@blogger.com7