Wes’s Life

There’s a girl in my life who com­pletes my days; she’s the cap­stone. I can have a good day any old time, yet she keeps the keys to great­ness. Her smiles heal a hard exam. Her words fix my prob­lems.

What can I say about this girl? Well, most people can make me laugh. Lot’s of people can make me smirk. Yet, only so many can make me smile. And only she can make me smile like she does.

Hmm, walk­ing out of the bath­room this seemed like a fan­tas­tic idea. So fan­tas­tic in fact, that I might do it on a monthly basis!

Well, a year ago I was start­ing my first semes­ter as a Busi­ness Infor­ma­tion Tech­nol­ogy major. I was work­ing duti­fully on my var­i­ous require­ments: Account­ing, Busi­ness Stats, etc. I was prob­a­bly still sweat­ing the switch to Busi­ness: the feel­ing that I may be desert­ing my “friends” or leav­ing it “all” behind. I now know that I did the right thing: I’m much hap­pier, much more sane and actu­ally enjoy­ing col­lege.

It was my second semes­ter in my apart­ment, and I was still loving it (still do!). I can’t stress nearly enough that you will be more sane and like col­lege a heck of a lot more when you have a nice clean common area, a nearby kitchen, a bath­room that is typ­i­cally clean (if not, you know who to blame) and a room all to your­self!

I was break­ing up with a girl who couldn’t hold a candle to my girl­friend. Why was I with her you ask? I’m not entirely sure. In hind­sight, I should have never started any­thing. Then again, had I not been with her, I would have never broken up with her. In turn, I might have never met my girl­friend. I went swing danc­ing that one par­tic­u­lar night because I was lonely and bored, and it just so hap­pened that I would meet some­one that night that would change my life.

Also, on this par­tic­u­lar day a year ago, I put up a poem that I truly enjoy. The name was Des­o­la­tion, which to most would sound fairly depress­ing and emo­tional. How­ever, it was more about an image that sticks in my mind of a destroyed beach. To me there is no scene more beau­ti­ful that a dec­i­mated old beach-​front bar, or maybe it was just a col­or­ful wooden shack, I’m not sure. The sun is set­ting, making the whole thing a soft amber. A for­merly creme col­ored boat has washed up onto the shore and it’s miss­ing chunks here and there. For some reason, that’s my random idea of beauty.

I’m tired, tired of the uno­rig­i­nal­ity I’m seeing in every­thing. Every time I go to look at Life­hacker, I feel as if I have seen that small bit of news at least three times that day. And this isn’t just a Life­hacker thing, tons of blogs do this and they feel that some­where, some­how along the way there is some kind of value added. Well, no not really; sure, there’s usu­ally a new quip about this fancy new web­site, but in the end it’s a pic­ture or a logo and the link. This year I’m going to try to keep my con­tent as orig­i­nal as pos­si­ble. Plus I’m going to try and write, but who knows, it may not happen.

Most men aim for some­thing that falls between her legs.
Yet some look upwards to some­thing sur­rounded by bosom.
Now I rec­om­mend you get your mind out of the gutter where it rests,
For your mind still lingers on ideas of lust and flesh.
Instead, move deeper within the cavity par­al­lel, seek­ing more.
Dote upon organs that hold more than primal urges.

Bikini adorned girls lay upon the sand,
As the water laps against the beach.
Umbrel­las shade their clien­tele from heat,
As a warm breeze comes off of the water.

They rest upon the wooden slats of a rental chair,
With its white lac­quer, pock­marked from the sand.
Cream col­ored from years of enjoy­ing sand and sun,
An envi­able life in most regards.

Palm trees line the nearby street,
Which hap­pens to be cov­ered with smil­ing pas­sen­gers.
Pedes­tri­ans strolling about, enjoy­ing the warmth,
While indulging in a cool snow cone.

Perched upon a tall chair of whicker,
Pur­vey­ors of drink sip from coconuts
A con­coc­tion of local flavor and atti­tude,
All the while cov­ered by a paper umbrella.

Calm music of a local band fills the can­tina,
It is accom­pa­nied by the lull of the surf.
The sun says its good­byes to us at the bar,
Paint­ing the walls orange, purple and red.

I wrote this for my sister as she absolutely loves the beach. This is one of my writ­ings, which I openly acknowl­edge, that will be changed at some points, mainly to add more to it as I think of more.