Average Princess
You call me a princess
but I=m not sure you should
you see
I=m not your average princess
I=m not tall and beautiful
I=m no longer blonde
I don=t usually dress all in pink
my name=s not Cinderella
or Rapunzel
or Aurora
or Belle
just simply Jennie
or Jen will sometimes do
I=m not your average princess
short black hair
and darker clothes
are more my style
plastic rimmed glasses
and black eyeliner
I=m not your average princess
but like many fairy tale princesses
I was locked in a tower
of my own insecurities
and loneliness
and you came and saved me
swept me off my feet
and we lived happily ever after
and I guess that makes me
just another average princess.
Are All Obsessions a Bad Thing?
I. Duct TapeDuct tape
fixes everything.
Need duct tape?
Find Jimmy.
He always has plenty.
Duct tape
is very versatile
he says.
A duct tape wallet.
Duct tape on his backpack,
on his trumpet case,
in his room.
And not just silver,
every color.
Any color you could
ever want.
Even camouflage!
(if you so desire)
Who knew
such a simple thing
could be such
an important object
to one person?
Duct tape.
II. Canada
Leading the world
in being
just north of the United States.
That Canada song
by Five Iron Frenzy?
(yes, that now non-existent ska band…)
Well, that song describes
him perfectly.
If he could pack up
and move to Canada right now..
he would.
Maybe that’s why
we get along so well.
We both love Canada.
And maybe that’s why
he loved that Christmas present I gave him,
oh, so very much.
Yeah, you know what it was.
That pin he has on his backpack.
The one that says
“Canadian Wanna be”
and he can’t wait ‘till
that Canada road trip he has planned
for
summer of ‘08.
III. My Voice
He wanted
to hear
me sing.
I told
him
no.
I’m too shy and I’m not that good anyway.
Yet somehow,
he convinced me
to record myself
singing
and put it on a
CD.
What did he think?
He told me
I sang
SOOOO beautifully
and that
I should
never
never never
never never NEVER
give up singing.
He’s forever
addicted
to
my
voice.
And So Where are We this Year?
Another year over
the world is soon
to be anew
everyone makes resolutions
that no one keeps
everyone goes to parties
does things without thinking
everyone says they’ll do better this new year
no one remembers anything that was said
when they wake up the next morning
next to some stranger
with a hangover
and what happened this year?
Gerald Ford died
as well as James Brown
and some random kid
supposedly Anna Nicole Smith’s son
and what will we remember?
Miss USA is bisexual
Madonna offends half the nation
Courtney Love is still on drugs
Paris Hilton is still famous
just for being rich
and Britney finally divorces
that Dad from hell
Cruise and Holmes finally get married
Jennifer and Vince call it quits
Angelina and Brad are still considered
the hottest couple in the world
the war in Iraq is still in full swing
Nicole Richie joins the mugshot gallery of shame
and Kate Bosworth still thinks it’s hot to be anorexic
it seems no matter how many new years go by
the world will still be the same
full of regrets
lost chances
and mistakes
and so my new years resolution
this year
is to make sure I never
contribute to this world’s ultimate fate
to never become a part of the world
so hopefully
it will only stay the same and not
become worse
for that’s all we can hope for
at a time like this
that everything will stay the same
look at where we are now
for just think
in 10 years
if things are worse
where will we be then?
An Inventory of Being
I am Jennie.
I am of German and Native American (Cherokee) descent.
I was born in Massachusetts,
Moved to Ohio when I was five
Ohio is okay, but rather bland
I miss New England.
At least twice a week you will find me with a big bowl of ice cream,
I eat it all the time
Did you know New Englanders eat 25% more ice cream than the average American?
Maybe that’s why I eat it so often.
My only siblings are twelve years old,
Fraternal twins
They can be annoying every once in awhile
But I still love them both very much.
I LOVE Converse shoes.
I’m proud to say I own eight pairs.
Need an opinion on a movie?
Ask me. I am a movie fanatic.
Watching anything and everything
Independent films and foreign films that people have never heard of
Are my favorites.
I hate it when people don’t trust me
Yet I have such a hard time trusting other people.
About four years ago, I was a fairly spiteful
And selfish person.
Since my Mom was diagnosed with an incurable disease
I think I have become more compassionate and loving towards other people.
Even though I am angry about that happening
I thank God for it every day
Otherwise, what kind of person would I be right now?
When my friends are asked to describe me in one word
Many often say, indecisive.
In fact, I wasn’t quite sure if I should put that in here or not.
I’m school-renowned
For changing my hair color
At least three times a year.
I despise my name,
It’s so plain
There are millions of people in the world with my name
And my sisters got the unique names,
Sophie and Greta.
People often call me a Communist
Because frankly, I believe those Communists have the right idea
Even though Communistic governments have never worked.
Plus, Karl Marx kind of looks like Santa Claus.
I have a passion for languages.
Taking French and Spanish in school isn’t enough
At home, I’m teaching myself to speak Italian, also.
I am possibly one of the only people in the world
Who loves rainy days more than sunny days.
Thunderstorms are one of the best weather conditions possible, in my opinion.
I think I was born a few generations too late.
Being extremely anti-war
I believe I would have made a good hippy.
My Mom always wanted to adopt an Asian baby.
In almost every single picture ever taken of me I look..well…Asian
Maybe she actually got her wish?
I would really like to sit down and have a little chat with George Bush
Tell him what I really think
But that might ruin my reputation of being a nice, friendly person
So I don’t think I will anytime soon.
I hate the fact that my second toe is longer than my big toe
Wearing Converse instead of sandals or flip flops
Easily solves that problem.
Sometimes, I feel like one of the only people in Ohio who calls
Tennis shoes, sneakers
And pop, soda.
I go to church
And believe in God
Yet I’m not sure I believe in organized religion.
Or organized anything for that matter…like my closet.
In the end, everything will be okay
If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.
Something I try to live by and remember every day.
Ironically, one of my biggest regrets
Is regretting things.
Why live your life that way?
What is done is done, nothing and no one can change that.
I miss my Grandpa
Who died right before I turned sixteen
We shared the same birthday, March 9th.
I am there so often
That the librarians at the Wadsworth Library
Know me by name.
I’m not sure if this is a good or a bad thing.
Two of my favorite pastimes are
Writing poetry
And going to cemeteries.
Creepy? Weird? No.
They’re a great place to find interesting names.
My favorite name found so far is Wetzel Pridemore.
I would best describe my sense of humor as sarcastic.
Sometimes people think I’m being mean
But it’s all just a joke, right?
Fog is absolutely fantastic.
It looks like clouds hovering above the ground
Almost as if the sky is falling.
My idols are Natalie Portman, Sofia Coppola and Drew Barrymore
Three gorgeous, intelligent and successful women,
Doing what they love.
I absolutely loathe Bob Evans.
Every time I walk in, they hand me a children’s menu.
Do I really look like I’m twelve or under?!
I used to be so nervous around boys
But now
All my best friends are guys.
Constantly forgetting things,
The best way to remember seems to be writing things on my hands or arms
In black permanent marker.
My Mom worries that I’m going to get ink poisoning.
I often make fun of blondes
And then feel guilty about it later.
My natural hair color is a dirty blonde.
As of right now,
I don’t ever want to get married
Although, I’m sure that will change in the near future,
Indecisiveness can often be very predictable.
I love my pet turtle, oh, so very much
Although I’m still angry at my Mom for not allowing me
To get a snake.
I adore food
Yet, I am one of the pickiest eaters you will probably ever meet.
Thanksgiving is one of the worst holidays ever…
All I ever eat on that day in November is bread, and sometimes that cranberry stuff.
I find it entertaining to sit in public places
And just watch people.
It’s not nearly as creepy or boring as it sounds.
Ask me what I want to drink
And 99.9% of the time
I will say 2% milk.
Never soda…carbonation is disgusting and tastes weird in your mouth.
I’m not nearly as quiet as I seem in class.
When I was younger I wanted to be a detective
The next Nancy Drew, per say.
No joke, I am a tree hugger.
Don’t ever let me catch you littering
Unless you have a serious death wish.
I love musicals
Especially singing along to musicals
But I hate singing in front of people.
I have an obsession with bagels.
People often tell me I could start my own band.
I play seven instruments.
Yeah, you’re right…I don’t have a life.
To me, music is one of the best things in the world.
Music is one of those weird things in life,
It can completely change your mood in a span of five seconds
And change it again, in another three seconds.
I’ve recently started making a wish
At 11:11 every night,
And trying to write my name backwards
Don’t ask why.
Some of my lifetime goals are to
Travel the world, get one of my poems published
And ultimately
Be happy with where I am in life twenty years from now.
I love the number three.
It seems such a whimsical number
All good things come in three’s.
Life is so unpredictable.
That’s what I love about it.
To put it simply, I am weird
But I am me
The one and only me that there is or ever will be.
My name is Jennie, and this is 2007.
All Her Life is Black and White
Failing
flailing
there she is
on the floor again
lost in her own thoughts
consuming her life
wondering what she did wrong
what did she do to deserve this
scenes flash before her eyes
why didn’t she say that
do that
for now, here she is
lost somewhere along the way
in translation
stuck in a nightmare
surrounded by other’s colorful
fairy tales
yet,
all her life is black and white.
Abuse Sestina
Alone in that house,
There she sits, that girl,
Playing with her doll,
In that room that’s blue.
As rain patters against the glass,
Salty and wet, like tears.
Her face is smudged with fallen tears,
As she sobs in the dark house.
Her heart is like glass,
Shattered; just some random girl.
And the veins in her arms are blue,
Just like the dress on her doll.
The face is broken, as the doll
Hits the floor. And the tears
On her face, run together with her eyes of blue.
The floor of that house
Creaks and scares the girl.
Her face turns clear like glass.
The window shatters and the glass
Hits the floor, next to the broken doll.
Searching for a light, the girl
Cannot see through the tears,
That flood her eyes and the house.
Her whole world is blue.
Her sparkling eyes of blue
Reflect off of the glass,
Lying on the floor of the house.
And it seems that even the broken doll
Is crying real tears.
Scared as ever, the girl
Knows this is not right. She’s just a girl.
But her life is blue,
And so are her tears.
It’s as if she’s living in a world of glass
Ready to shatter any second; break the doll,
crumble her only solace; the house.
Her life is a doll
Crushed and broken like glass, on the floor
Of a building that is her home and her prison.
Absentmindedness and a Cup of Coffee
There she sat. So young. So beautiful and innocent. Too young and innocent. Too young to be sitting there. Yet, there she was, in a fancy white wedding dress, crouched in the grass, next to that new granite tombstone.
She had met Rob in college. They had both been in Journalism classes together. She still remembered the first time she had walked in and Rob had smiled at her. When he smiled, the dimples on his face made you laugh. His freckles shimmered like little specks on a ladybug, and his long, curly, red hair shone in small splotches of sunlight. Rob was genuine, honest, modest; something no other men in her life had ever been. He was the one rainbow colored fish in the entire ocean. Being with Rob was the one thing in her life that gave her the solace and bliss that she so longingly yearned for.
Some days, they would take long walks in Central Park. Winter coats, hats, and scarves always came along, but she would often conveniently forget her gloves; Rob would have to hold her hand. (Keep her from getting frostbite she always argued.) What she never knew was that Rob secretly wished she would always forget her gloves. Other days, they would sit in small book stores, sipping cups of coffee while discussing a little bit of everything. Politics, movies, authors, philosophical questions. Who was the better poet, Robert Frost or Anne Bradstreet? Was William Shakespeare ever really a real life human being? Who was the better director, Sophia Coppola or Tim Burton? Who wrote the best horror novels, Edgar Allen Poe, or Stephen King? Was Emily Dickinson really clinically depressed? On campus, they could often be seen walking to classes together. Rob, in his simple jeans and a t-shirt. Her, often wearing long skirts, scarves, hats, sweaters, converse, anything unusual she could find. Other than her outfits, she was rather plain; didn’t stand out in a crowd. Her long, wavy, jet black hair was often simply pulled back in a barrette; whispy strands falling astray and outlining her soft face. Anyone who saw them stared, in utmost jealousy. As far as the eye could see, they had the perfect relationship; nothing would ever change that. Little did anyone know, their days together were numbered.
Autumn of their senior year, was when Rob proposed. She had immediately accepted, and they were to be married the following spring. For the next few months, they were in heaven. They spent hours together planning the wedding: who was to be invited, who would be the best man and the maid of honor, where the reception would be held, what type of cake to buy, everything down to the very last detail.
It was on a chilly November day that their lives changed forever. Rob was diagnosed with cancer. She wasn’t sure what she had done wrong. What had she done to deserve this? Seeing Rob go through chemotherapy the next few months was torture to her. Slowly, he lost his long red hair. His eyes lost their usual sparkle. He was quickly becoming nothing more than a shadow. Rob, however, never lost his spirit, his humor, his love for life, or his love for her. He told her they could get married with him in the hospital; that everything would be alright in the end.
He died a week before they were to be married. She was by his side, up until the very end, and heard his very last words. “I love you so much. Don’t ever change. Ever.” Then, his eyes became glassy, and his chest stopped moving up and down. She laid her head down on his shoulder, one last time, and sobbed. She watched as her tears slowly fell from her face onto Rob’s cold cheek. She watched as they slid down his face onto the bleached white hospital bed. She ran over to the dresser and took out one of his t-shirts. She wanted to be able to smell him one last time. She found a notebook of his from class. She wanted to remember his handwriting. The rest of the night was a blur; sobbing, then silence. Sobbing, then silence.
So there she sat. So young and innocent. Too young and innocent. But there she was, in her wedding dress, by a grave, on her wedding day. Rob’s tombstone was simple granite, with a simple inscription. “Robert Terrin. 1985-2006 Loving son and fiancé. Will be missed by family and friends.” He had only been 21 years old. Sometimes, life was so cruel. As she sat there, a burst of lightning lit up the dark sky. Gray clouds rolled in over the hill. Almost as if the heavens were weeping with her, it started to rain. And there she sat, in the pouring rain, until the lace of her dress was completely ruined, every last curl on her head was gone, and her whole body was entirely numb. Salty tears mixed with cold drops of rain and fell into her open mouth. Carefully, she reached into the sleeve of her dress and pulled out a pair of blue gloves tied with a white ribbon. As she painstakingly stood up, she placed the gloves next to the grave, turned, and silently walked away.
A Phone Conversation with my Best Friend
the friendly familiar voice of my
best friend
my mom figured it was my aunt
I go inform her that it’s Jimmy
my dad hears and automatically screams
“Dinner!”
It’s an inside joke
it seems every time he would call
it would be time to eat
so now it’s just a natural
saying we’re all used to
it’s 9:30 P.M.
we talk about
schoolhomeworkfriendsbandfamiliesmusic
anything we can think of off hand
anything that’s even remotely random and unexpected
that’s part of the rules
the more random
the better
we’re both storytellers
we laugh at each other’s lives
like that one time he set his trash can on fire
or that one time I drove over the dead road kill
on purpose
it’s 10:45 P.M.
my phone dies
I have to call him back on the other cordless phone
we pick up right where we left off
as always
it’s a fairly regular thing
these phone conversations
we tell each other anything and everything
and we always listen
listening is one of the most important things in a relationship of any sort
for the next hour the
laughing is endless
there is no such thing as
awkward silence with
us in fact that
might be too hard
it’s 11:54 P.M.
maybe I should hang up
sleep may do me some good
I tell him
but neither one of us
wants to say
goodbye
or be the first
to hang up
we enjoy each others
company
that much
we keep talking
rambling on
wanting it to never end
wanting to freeze time for just
that moment
but finally, I say goodnight
and hang up with the sound of a click
it’s 12:16 A.M.
