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I'M SORRY I'VE BEEN SO BAD AT POSTING THINGS. 

I hate how blogger puts my tags in alphabetical order. That is NOT the way I wanted them to go. 

Memorial Day - 30 May 2011

We're just living our teenage dream:
Suntans and county lines
Our Midwest winter skin
Replaced by lobster burns and farmer's tans
Singing along to every song we know
Blasting on the radio
These guilty pleasures we don't admit to
Like spilt secrets that are 'never' shared
S'mores over scented candles
And hollywood horrors we've all seen before
Grown-Up dreams and aspirations
Tinged with the naive innocence
That everything will work out fine
Hopes and dreams that never truly die
Merely battered by reality
Wars are fought for dreams and innocence
Freedoms and civil rights
So as we dream this Memorial Day
We honor those who serve
By not giving up our innocence,
Not just yet.

Snippet #42

A few minutes later, Marek came running up to us, his hair flying all over his face. Blood stained parts of his hands and his jacket. “It’s not mine, if anyone’s wondering,” he said, holding up his hands.

“We weren’t.” Jonáš said. 

Marek reached out to push him. Jonáš took a step back. “Hey, now. Just because you’re okay with blood on your clothes doesn’t mean I am. Stay away from me, freak.”

Snippet #41

            “What did you call me?” Ondřej asked, taking a step closer to the girl. He towered over her, but she didn’t even seem fazed.

            “Did I stutter?” She looked amused, “I said you’re an asshole, and a fucking stupid one at that.”

            Ondřej grunted in anger and pushed her backwards. “Why don’t you say that to my face?”

            “Don’t touch me.”

            “Make me.” Ondřej looked over his shoulder at his friends. They all laughed, in the same haughty way all cronies do.

            “Hey, tough guy,” The girl called out. Ondřej turned to look at her, right as she swung her arm back. There was a crack, followed by a scream. 

Snippet #40

Yes, you might fail. But you know what? At least you tried. And that’s more you can say if you just walk away and pretend that it never happened. I find it easier to admit that I need to work harder, but I will never admit defeat. So Miri, go write that God damn book of yours. You could be the worst writer in the world, but at least you’ll have the evidence of it. 

Snippet #39

“Ugh. Why, homework, why?” Jonáš moaned.

            I rolled my eyes. Always so dramatic. If he wasn’t so set on making movies, I would have suggested that he take up acting. “What do you have to do?”

            “I need to find out people’s opinions on what love is. Like, what the hell? Love just is, there’s nothing else to it.”

            “Oh for God’s sake, just ask people.”

            Jonáš sighed, “All I’m going to get is people quoting Haddaway’s ‘What Is Love’.”

            “You will not.” I went back to my reading.

            “Hey, Marek!” Jonáš screamed, hoping Marek would hear him in the kitchen.

            “What?”

            “What is love?”

            “OH BABY DON’T HURT ME, DON’T HURT ME, NO MORE.” Marek responded instantly, followed by a crash, the sound of breaking dishware, and a string of curses. Jonáš and I both closed our eyes and waited for clarification. “I’m okay, just knocked over the drying rack . . . and everything that was on it.”

            We both nodded, accepting the explanation, and went back to our original conversation.

            “Didn’t I tell you that’s how people would respond?” Jonáš looked at me, unsure if he should be proud he proved me wrong or exasperated at his homework assignment.

      “You’re just asking the wrong people. Ask Sophie, I’m sure she’ll have something you can use.

      Once Sophie walked into the apartment, Jonáš pounced. “Sophie - this is for homework - what is love?”

      She smirked. “Naturally, I’m assuming Marek started singing the song to you?”

      Jonáš nodded.

      “Love is. . .” Sophie paused, thinking, “Love is taking me as I am, but leaving me better than you found me.”