Monday, September 5, 2016


So I went to the bathroom just before I passed out, right...


There was a spider.

Scared the crap out of me because I was all "la la la la!" and relaxed and chilling and then


So I watched it and it stayed where it was, right, all chill. So I washed my hands and stuff and then I thought...

Could this spider be the same one I saw almost a month ago?

It LOOKS very similar. I know like two days ago I saw an earwig when I was taking my shower and then it was gone later.
did it... eat the earwig?

Did it hide, knowing that the spider that stayed in plain sight for like two weeks got killed by my mom even though I was warming up to him pretty well?

Did it stay away, knowing I am afraid?

Is it.... a friend?

Man I don't know but I kinda hope that is the case because I would totally rather have a spider eating all the earwigs and shit than anything else in my bathroom.

So I'm just gonna... leave it.

We're chill, spider bro. Just don't climb in my shower, or let my parents see you.

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Why Do I Suck at Titles

People are richly complex, in-depth, and beautiful,
And you and I are no exception.

I am a lyricist, putting pieces together,
Making puzzles into holes, and emptying time,
Trying to fit in music and rhyme.

We all live the dreams we make,
And the nightmares that make us shake,
And any way you try to put it you could still say,
You could still say we'll be wrong for another day.

And what if we're all wrong? What if none of us are right?

I am a dreamer, not a doer,
I'd rather live in my mind.
But you have to sketch it out sometimes,
Imagination to life,
Trying to find what goes right.

People hold tight to meaningless things,
And you and I just do the same.
It's easier that way.

There's so much more than what you and I say,
What we see,
So much deeper than we'd like to believe.

I am a lyricist, writing out my soul,
Because how else am I supposed to feel?
The words I speak, the way I breathe, hold on tight to destiny,
And then let tomorrow go.

Tuesday, August 9, 2016

SPIDERS and Basically a Nice Summary of How My Brain Works

There is a spider in my bathroom and I don't know where it is!

Basically I fell asleep at 7:00 PM and woke up 4 hours later at 11:00 PM (ish, there are minutes involved here). So then I tried to get back to sleep.

But, "Tristan! Tyler!" my mom called. Repeatedly. And had me get up and lift Tristan onto the bed. I was awake. Do not fall asleep by accident on your mother's bed. She will wake you and make you do things.

Anyway. So I'm awake now, my phone buzzes, I check it. I make a couple of posts, Google a thing (spoon theory to share with my mom, if you know if it I've basically been doing the mental equivalent of eating cereal with a fork for the past two months, I am OUT OF SPOONS), and.

Nope. Wide awake still. So I head downstairs. Mom complains because, as per usual, the dogs follow me. Even though I try to get at least Tristan to stay with her. Nah, man. He isn't having any of that.

So at about 1:30 or so I decide to take a shower because, I feel gross. I get into the bathroom.

Giant-ass spider behind my toilet. If you're South of me you probably would patiently say, upon seeing this spider, "Kuna... That's not a very big spider." But just assume it is decently-sized, okay, it is BIG ENOUGH. So I'm terrified because BIG SPIDER IN THE BATHROOM. I am like "I should free it" but you KNOW I am going to fail at that, I would be far too freaked out to take it outside. So I pick up an air freshener (it was the size of the bottom of this thing) and point it at the spider. I move it back and forth a couple of times.

...I can't do it. The spider is sitting there, I can't tell if it's -poisonous- venemous, it just. I can't. The spider deserves to live too. So I feel guilty.
And then I feel guiltier because it will probably die a slow and torturous death of starvation, I am terrible no creature deserves to starve.
And then I reason I can't kill it, it is behind my toilet, what if I slam it and it is not dead? Nope, too risky, there's my excuse.

So about to pee my pants I stare at it for like a minute, and then carefully sit on the toilet. I relax just enough to start peeing and then I turn around just enough to see it from the corner of my eye.
I actually wished for a penis. This was the first and will likely be the last time.

So then I get ready to go into the shower, and it starts moving. I freak out a little, quietly, but then triple and quadruple check my shower and it is free of bugs so I hop in.

I think of the spider that was here a year ago. What if this spider is seeking revenge because my mom killed it? No no no that thought is INSANE. I push it outside.

And then, my sentimental dumb self starts to get attached to this spider. It is a good spider. It will kill all the bugs. I think of it affectionately.

I get out of the shower.

It's gone.

I look for it, check various places, nope can't see it. It was on the wall, there is crapall for it to hide. Oh god, it's on the shelf in my stuff...

I start to get horror movie images of it climbing into my mouth. Biting me and killing me. Turning into a giant spider and squashing me (okay, this one is kind of comical). I think of every horrible thing that can happen involving spiders and imagine, with at least some detail, it happening to me with this spider that is now hiding somewhere.

I regret reading the SCP. I regret playing/reading/watching any horror ever. I begin to have an existential crisis that lasts all of a minute.

And then I flee to the living room, prostrate myself on the couch, and start writing about this stupid spider.

...I really hope it doesn't starve.

Sunday, August 7, 2016


Nobody wants to be called 'evil'
But the truth is we're all a villain
In somebody else's tale.

In the end of the dust and the breeze
We'll all fade away,
With memory and patience,
Because life never stays.

And I'd like to see a love that really lasts forever,
When it seems all the fairy tales end.
No hero stays a hero in a world determined to break you.

When you're there there's only one thing to see,
It's the heartbreak symphony, cacophony,
Love songs and brokenness can't quite explain this end.

And you can write lyrics into poetry
And try to pretend when really
It's obvious you're not okay.

You're determined the ending's coming,
You've determined that you're done.
But something keeps you here, anyway,
And it's killing you, every day.

So you walk further down that road,
Never looking back.
And when your map fails you,
And when the road ends,
What will you do then?

All your secrets add up somehow,
Into your greatest mystery.
You can't tell the truth, but then again...

Here's to hoping that all the good things,
You still think of from time to time,
Come to find you once again.
Come to fix your heart like they never did before.

Nobody wants to be called 'evil',
But the truth is no-one's a hero,
We're all just kids playing pretend.

Saturday, June 25, 2016

Ingrid Michaelson and Love Songs

Every love song I listen to, all I do is think of you,
And I'm scared I might never hear a love song again.
All the music I loved doesn't seem so bright,
Rhythms and tunes no longer make me feel alright,
And it is all because of you.
But the roads lead you to mountains that were too high to climb,
And so your promises are broken, and I claim to be fine,
But here I am in tears again because a song said "you and I",
And I have to rewrite my future dreams in a sadder note this time.
I wanted to prove the whole world wrong when I was with you,
Everyone who said it'd fail, because we were too:
Too far apart, too different hearts, all the things that didn't fit,
But I guess they were right, so pour all on my wounds.

I still claim you broke up with me because I feel it as the truth,
Because I can't wait forever and you were the one who turned it loose,
And when I gave you options, to maybe change the goal posts,
You still said no, you still let it go.
So while she claims I cornered you, I think we both know the truth.
You needed to be cornered so you'd say what you meant,
That we were better off as friends.
Well maybe for you, but not for me.

But love isn't selfish, I've said it before,
And writing this poem is something I abhore,
Because the last thing I want is for you to feel guilt,
When it is my daily partner and has been for years.
But I have nowhere else to go and nothing else to do,
When every love song I hear makes me think of you.
I can't even listen to some of my favorite songs,
Because the relationship, but not the love, is long gone.

So here I am crying because of a love song I liked,
Not even a favorite, and I'm not alright,
And "Maybe"s too hopeful, so I avoid the topics of heartbreak,
Trust me, my anthem isn't in these words, not anymore.

So why, then, are you the only one that understands
I need some space, I need a helping hand?
This time when you can't give it, when I'm all alone,
I have to some how figure out life again on my own.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

My favorite Bible verse. It is written in the Bible; it is so important, it is so key, that it is written again in the Book of Mormon under Moroni 7:45.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away."

"Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;
6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;
7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
8 Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away."
BoM Verse:
"And charity suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things."

Small differences, subtle differences, but this is one time where small differences don't change the meaning.

Charity is the pure love of Christ.

Love is the best thing in this world.

This is the strongest support in the order of sexuality, the way we love and who we love.

To love fully, to love purely, is to be Christlike. A mother's love, a father's love.

Please do not feel ashamed for your love. Not for love.

Not for that emotion which would have sacrifice and compromise and understanding and generosity. Not when those things are so entwined with love that love is nothing if not patient, if not kind, if not eternal.

Love is the least shameful thing on this Earth and it is the source of all the good, the best.

My favorite Bible verse, above all others. Because love, love is the greatest thing humans can possess.

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." Martin Luther King, Jr.

Good Kid

I was the good kid.

My worst year I was in third grade. I told a teacher, direct quote, "You deserve to go to heck." I was upset, I lashed out.
I told two boys I would call birds down to peck their eyes out with my flute. They were threatening to shoot up the school.

Those two boys reached the TA first, the TA who didn't like me. They believed every word those two said.
My parents believed me, because I admitted to the flute. The school did not.

They got off scot-free.

I yelled at someone, fought with someone, to stop them from bullying someone else. A verbal fight in the fifth grade. The PE teacher, whom I liked and who liked me, told me to not do that, to just let it pass, that it wasn't worth it.

They say, "no good deed goes unpunished".

I am the rock, the shield, the person who is always there. It took this year for me to stop being afraid that, like so many others, I would be taken for granted. Because I had been before.

It is a moment of heart-stopping panic when I admit I'm not okay. Half of me believes they won't do anything, won't believe me, and is relieved for it. Most of the other half hopes that is the case. Every time, a small sliver breathes just a little better because love, instead of indifference,  is given.

Being good, being kind, being compassionate isn't all bad. It is lonely and hard, but there's good things too. If I messed up I could get away with it. I was never asked for a hall pass; they always assumed I had permission.

(One time I smiled at her, the woman who never smiled, even with adults, and she smiled back)

Be the better person. You make your day. In elementary school I was taught that people are mean, hurt others, because they are hurting. I keep that in mind, always. I always give people the benefit of the doubt.

It is hard. It hurts. I wish, I wish, I could just be angry, feel these negative emotions directed at someone who isn't me.

But I care, far too much, about people for that. So I take a deep breath.

I keep being kind. I keep being good. No matter how much it hurts.