Full story written here:
http://www.treehugger.com/files/2011/03/tsunami-swept-baby-porpoise-rescued-from-rice-field.php

"Nothing is Impossible, the word itself says ‘I’m Possible!’”
-Audrey Hepburn

“One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.” -Paulo Coelho

“High expectations are the key to everything.” -Sam Walton

Reoccurring doubt...

It’s a crisis, but I can count on the people I never speak of. I can lean on the invisible shoulders and I can breathe in this poison like air. This aura of hatred and disease, the people I looked upon softly are now rougher than the serrated blades grazing by the newest victim. This choke-hold of silence. This collar of electricity bolting through tearing veins of past blue, seemingly red. Everybody is shot down, shot like kryptonite crystals absorbing around the last remaining fortress of Superman. This is a crisis and somebody is going to die, kill or be killed. A layer of roaring rage and coasting calm. Today was the day that I realized the barrel of this magnum was aimed at me.

Eventually everything blows over, the wheat get’s chopped up and loose feathers ride the breeze. The sturdy crop that was used as a playground for newborn, barnyard buddies and cute, cuddly little couples trying to find the perfect place to see the clouds. The crop used to fill stomachs and empty pockets, but only a little. The beautiful wheat fields that would sway from side to side as if almost dancing to the miracle of wind itself. The cooling agent in such heat and treacherous downpours. From sunset to sundown and to a glorious, warm color coated masterpiece of sunset once again when the clocked relined with the morning aid. These memories, this amazing place to wander free and hidden, was now a meer sanctuary of tombstones. Where the breeze may have skimmed these fields and lifted kindred spirits, it also took a blade to others that were chopped, scarred, and ravaged until nothing was left. A graveyard of tortured souls, only visited again in the spring to move the bodies if not to delay the cost of a refill. Soon new seeds planted, newborns weeded and watered and a city was built all over again. Old bodies restless beneath, feeding the above hauntings bound in chains. A cycle of pain and rebirth and pain, memories never forgotten and full stomaches never satisfied. This was a world we never speak of.

I have an addiction to quoting myself, even if I never actually say it aloud.

“The art of lying. Is it really an art? Or just a scandalous excuse to call yourself clever?”
- ML

Ohh the life of being a woman.

I just happen to be craving chocolate cake like no tomorrow so sometime next week I shall make it for dessert after making my Superman a scrumptious dinner. I’m thinking along the lines of Indonesian Ginger Chicken, roasted potatoes, and carrots. A salad? I don’t know. It just seems that every movie I watch lately somebody owns a floral shop, or manages for architecture or owns their own bakery or even just aspires to travel. This could be the reason why i’m leaking back into my past passion, however, I never really thought it was all past. When you learn to bake pie at 9 years of age and continue till your teen years and practically till almost graduation it just becomes a part of you. I might just love it so much because it’s my family, my mother cooks and bakes, and my aunt cooks all the time and my grandma knows where to get the best of the best ingredients. I could be searching for belonging or something but a taste of an amazing meal with my baby really isn’t any reason for an excuse. I just want to share another part of my life.

This is true.

Just because I ROCK.

"I care about you and everything that's going on, i just care from a distance that's all."

Well ain't that refreshing to hear, still cares but not really it seems. I call and she doesn't pick up and ask her to hang but she is doing Biology. Sweet, sorry my life sucks to much for you to wanna be in it. That's just a fucking shame.

Why is it that woman have to be skinny to be feminine but men can still be fat and manly?
- ML

Random but entertaining, it's just self- body & mind.

I like pretty colors and fairytales… my idea of a good conversation is over a movie I just watched with a friend. I love superheroes. I like dogs and small animals and really big animals. I like ideas, dreams and viewing individuals and situations in the grey because I think of it as “if it were me”. I enjoy upbeat bass music but also the soft melodies of piano and cello and rock of course. Sylvester Stallone was a huge idol of mine for a long time and now it seems to be Dolph Lundgren, maybe not an idol but a man of all sorts that are potential dreams of mine. I love the idea of winning of fight but I can’t even really lie all that often. Orca Whales are my favorite animal. I hope to roadtrip to quite a few places including California, Squamish, Telegraph Cove, Calgary and probably Florida. I have a fairly dark side depending on your definition. I like painting my nails and feeling soft and elegant. I view people for why they do things, not necessarily what they did. My room is yellow with flower stickers all over it, but also with sexy half-naked calender boys and Iron man and Terminator posters. I like pink and black things. I don’t really know who I am, in the future I hope to get married and have a baby boy and a garden of my very own. Running is something I truly enjoy and lifting weights makes me feel tough even though my body is fairly fragile and I seem to scar quite a bit. My life isn’t as easy as it possibly could be but I get called “lucky” more than I would think was true. Positive and negative go hand in hand depending on how I feel. For some reason I really want a passion that is a part of my life, yes I used to draw all the time, I used to bake all the time… now I just enjoy writing for the most part and trying to help people if I have the tools to do so. Going to Douglas College next year for Sociology, maybe than I can unlock my potential. I just wish I knew who I was, because all I seem to continue to be is “simple”. I wish I was something more sometimes, but at the same time, isn’t that a good thing? Simple. Hmph.

Ripples, affect after affect consuming portions of water beds and lost travelers upon gravel. Ripples that linger apart from the starting core and arrange themselves in perfect circles running outwards. Curling, folding, swelling among the tide. Stirring away from the heart of this trouble, where the rock was thrown into the deep blue sea. Piercing the boundaries of the outskirts, melting within the dirty swamps and oh so frozen slogans of icecubes. This is not a place for a simple ripple to admire the world as is, this is not a place for a ripple to be discovered. This is only another place where the ripple occurs and than vanishes, but I really hope I never see this rippling out effect ever again. These ripples were made from tears.

The Ultimate Truth...

maybe it’s simple, that you just have to trust people. Trust them when they say “I wish I could be there” or “I would if I could”… trust them when they tell you “I’ll be there for you” and whether or not they are you have to be willing to open yourself up to give in to their words. Actions mean more, yes, they show the willingness to comply with those words. They show the proof and dedication to those words, they mean a hell of alot more than those words. However, if you can’t even make the simple gesture to comply with those words than what is it that you have? Maya Angelou once said to “trust life a little bit” and this is something that I fully believe in. Maybe in life we are usually wrong, wrong because we don’t have it in us to really comply with the truth. There are alot of people that love you out there, but because everybody perceives it differently alot of people won’t believe it. It just may be that simple, that you just have to trust people.

Dogs are such creatures of healing, like I swear their eyes say so much. They are these gracious, life-loving, beings. These absolutely magnificent role models that love you no matter who you are. They sense danger, sickness, and sadness and pain. They know if you love them or not but they will love you no matter what the truth is. Dogs teach us what second chances can really mean and you can hit a dog and they will trust you a minute later. Dogs are better than us bruised, condemned, stitched up monsters. Yes, we feel love but we don’t have the capacity to feel the same love they do with our distrust of one another. Dogs are the most relaxing pets to own, they have it in their souls to teach us so much. I’ll never forget Boo Boo, Max, or Belle and I will continue to love Lady and Dale. They are so fantastic, they fix so much just by looking at you. When I used to sit and cry on my floor in my bedroom my dog Belle would walk over and drool on me when she put her head on my knee and I knew she wanted a cookie and I pulled myself together to leave the room and get her one. I don’t know what kinda power that is but no friend of mine could fix me that fast by saying they wanted an Oreo or something. In a religious sense they are shedding, drooling angels but most people aren’t willing to dig that deep within themselves to accept them as something more. However, I think most people who have had a cherish-able experience with a dog knows that they will hide all pain to cure yours. They love you for whoever and whatever you are. They need us, and when I’m older I hope I can give back because they are there for every bad night and every sunny day. I hope to return their love, I hope to grant more of them to a loving home and warm arms. Every dog deserves a bone.

“You’ll find where you belong megan, and when you do you’ll be the best at it. I know you.”

I have never been told something more comforting than that simple phrase. A followed hug and soon a smile, it's amazing how certain people can heal us no matter how damaged we have become... you just need the courage to show them that damage so that they can sooth the past pain. You have nothing to lose, only a gained essence of rebirth.

There is something so delicate and calming about a creature in your arms drifting off to sleep. Something so soothing and responsive without words. How something so small and fragile can trust something so large and rough. It creates an aura of healing, something that could embrace any monster's warmth.
-ML

Today was another happy day =)

and at the end of it all, good or bad, if you can say that before going to sleep at night. You’ve got the life.

“Everybody needs to approach and follow through with their dreams, not for society and fame, but as a simple inner gain.”
-ML

“Our words have wings.” -George Eliot

even though either way I simply state what's on my mind, the only thing that is different is that in a casual conversation I don't have a thesaurus.

"Beware thoughts that come in the night."

It is true that at night is when the truth comes out, it’s when people begin to really speak to one another. When the sun goes down, it’s almost as if it’s calming or since it’s already pitch black we can create more. The sun could just be a block for all the bad, but I don’t believe that monsters only come out at night… cause where the hell would they be during the day?

Not a whole lot of sunshine but I still feel warm inside.

Compatible beauty and simplicity as a wave of consistent affection embarks on the shores when the seagulls are screaming. A wave of passion, rationality, infatuation and memory with reason. A wave that would not be willing to swallow the shoreline without forecast. This wave that allures the recent visitors in a promenade of destiny and much mended faith, a wave that extends across the worlds largest ocean of the Pacific and thrives in the calm willing reefs and rustled up feeding grounds of the distant, sunken, obscure jewels to be prized. A flood foreclosing the now dry soon to be damp destiny, a tide twisting and turning to uphold a white cap belonging, a simple stir in the memorized surf to swish and swell upon occupied sand, an embarked resting place for the non-satisfied travelers. Fluctuating, imitating, vacillating, interchanging, exchanging, hesitant natural beings just wandering their land to embrace a new home with each coming high tide. A harmonized, regarded range of masterpieces to visit but still correlate renaissance. Such fascination and delicacy whenever the waves return to the same place for the high tide, the elegance of polished pebbles and soaked grains of sand. This feeling is enough to recreate a dampened hope or a rugged figure, this emotion drowns the worries and sets the sun, it applies growth to millions and welcomes shipwrecked toes. This place, this beach right here means the world to me, it has come to be my stunning, one of a kind, silver lining and it’s almost impossible to say thank you to such a place, but wrapped in the tide is all I ever wanna be.

"You can't airbrush personality"

Just be naked, naked all day and naked all night. Show everybody your true emotions, oh that colorful range of wonder and war. Prove that you ain’t just another fly waiting for the day you die, just fly a little higher. Just show it all, prove that you can handle any fall. Be naked, your emotional and your physical only want to dance night after night contained in one another not like a split personality where only one gets to shine at a time. You could be famous, famous as all hell if you ain’t afraid to show them both. Show them all to me baby, show them all to the world. The models should show their scars, the writers should spill their fucking blood on their notebooks, the doctors should cut off limbs in every surgery to every runny nose, those architects should build homes not houses, and these people should all be fucking naked and damn fucking proud. THIS IS TRUTH, THIS IS WHAT THEY WANT. Show everything and be yourself and you have no idea about the amount of people that will love you for it!

"Love is the hardest drug to quit, but it is even harder when it is taken away."

Just so fucking raw. The sickness of it all is truth, the spilling, dripping and staining of all the red. The muscles pinching the ribs in a dangerous tango of health and thirst. Clenching the bottle, grasping the foot. Alone is messy, nights massacred and days forgotten. But even with the plainly fake resemblance of something passionate, true, and beloved the anger and resentment is softened among a curse. Brutal killings, rape, loss of any inkling of remorse and an indistinguishable fire burning rampant. An executioner, murder or just an unpaid butcher. Just so fucking raw. The devilish parasite would tie his soul to his ankle, crush his heart to his thigh, bending to the length of hell he would. Only to be numb. What was known as right was not him, imprecise, inaccurate, unjust. Corrupted because of a hickey that bled more and more until life was gone, a draining accident that changed EVERYTHING. This Vampire, this villainous meat seeker, only wanted the chance to make love to the woman of his dreams. Now. Now he was still seventeen years old and she was two hundred and six rotting bones beneath the cemetery floor. Clearly undeserving, unforgivable, unjustified, unwanted and essentially unknown. A ghost of a man once with purpose. The cold, chilling flesh of a pulse once present and the raw action of a heartbroken monster gone rogue. Just so fucking raw.

Whispered secrets with no voice.

The incandescence bulging from atop the ceiling modified to dim as howls outside faded. The moon hid beneath gloomy clouds in the indistinct scarlet hour. This midnight presented the memoir of a two year disarray. Dwelling on a grief-stricken, heavyhearted, pensive bygone eight days, this mind was full of anger and held back glorified weeping tears. As this calm, collected, comforting, composed figure of a man lay atop of the soothing body infected by doubt. I just didn’t know how to react to it, such a steady shape of a man who had finally returned home… this would only seem easy to accept, a willing candidate for love. The delicate caress from a fingertip mingling with the curve of my spine was the undisturbed assurance of this night, and I was forgiven. As forgotten water, that has served us for millions of years, trickled down the now steamy window pane a cheerful smile yielded part way. An honest grin, a safeguarded residence, and a pleasant tepid touch… my Superman, I thought. He than began to meet his fingertips to my neck as he pursed his lips to indulge on my shoulder blades with a melting breath and a humble embrace. My mind was at ease as his torso licked my back in an ocean of physical contact, possessing serene imagination and lingered reality, we were one.

FOOD

Burgers have an interesting taste, nothing devine like a smooth barrel of whiskey and nothing choppy like an iceburg in water. Just a sizzle of patty and a squirt of sauce as teenage years are pondered in a charming little diner. Good for you burgers.

The wondrous, overwhelming essence of peace.

The breath of strength frozen within the interior lung package as the cough of pale weakness inflamed the trachea. The suffocating gulp of a new day penetrating cold lustful lips as the rouge cherry motioned south. Wind peeling off the ashes of this triplet cigarette before noon, smiling and gazing, an exhalation repeated for an addictive aroma. A faint breeze licking the filter of this insulfflated infectious poison, snatched five times a day to ease the itch. Last puff reminisced as the white stalk was laid to rest on concrete with the crease of a cheap shoe. Extracting, eliciting, educing, these faint blurs of recollected, recovered mind. Flash backs and torn photographs of a girl who was once everything, now only an indescribable discomfort of irritation and longing for truth. A disease written in vein. An illusion without an illustration only to confuse the witnessing victims of a red eyed vampire. A girl to loop you in a trance and interpret your life in a failed condemned victorious battle ground… she refers to as lost hopeless self. I know better now, may she rest in peace.

We all have this squishy vulnerable inside... a side only few are able to reach.

A side only few are able to understand, a side only a couple individuals in this world are able to even show. It’s a glimpse into who somebody really is, it’s a glimpse into who somebody wants to be. It’s a site, it’s a sight. Who am I, who am I? This world is so full of doubt, so full of grace. A world of corrupted faith and barred hope… so much to see through, so much to seek. Who am I, who am I? This planet groomed with negative news and positive portions. An earth of frowns and smiles and smiles and frowns. I see myself as a writer, I see myself as a psychiatrist, I see myself as a singer, I see myself as a healthy young woman, I see myself as a dreamer. Who am I, who am I? Who do you think I am? Am I talented or am I just an imaginative mind inside a held back flesh and blood body? You’ll never know until you ask, you’ll never know until somebody tells you. I am who I am for a reason and I don’t find any shame in that. I find it difficult to understand why people make fun, I find it difficult to understand why people can’t just accept, I find it difficult to accept why people make fun, I find it difficult not to make fun. Who am I, who am I? I try my best to simply understand and for that I know I am graced with something more, something called “blind faith”. I stand between the lines, sometimes even on them for comfort, I sit between the cracks and draw over the secluded dotted photographs. I am an odd girl, I am an individual, divided from the rest. Who am I, who am I? Positive and negative, black and blue and white sparkling soul condensed. Don’t think you know who I am, because that blind ignorance will only grant you sand sifting through your cold dead fingers that have not been able to touch a pure woman in sight, shape, and scenic bliss.

“If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?” -Stephen Levine

"A dog has no use for fancy cars, big homes, or designer clothes. A water log stick will do just fine. A dog doesn’t care if your rich or poor, clever or dull, smart or dumb. Give him your heart and he’ll give you his. How many people can you say that about? How many people can make you feel rare and pure and special? How many people can make you feel extraordinary?"
— John Grogan [ Marley&Me ]

Netflix is inspiring.

I think I secretly adore watching movies because they make you feel alive. Whether afterwards your stunned at the slice of anxiousness, or disappointed with an untied knot. Blessed with the beliefs, hopes, and dreams of a special character or crushed with tears at the thought of a loved one being harmed. The choice to really listen to the words and breaths of a character or simply blink at the notion that everything is a lie and the only truth is in the actor that plays the part. They make you angry, so voiced of an opinion that you want to scream, why?! So pushed over the edge of the so called “wrong-decision” of a loved one, or a repaired relationship you wanted to end so she could end up with “the other guy”. They make you think, question, realize, and dream. Movies contain secrets and secrets and they are uncovered at the thought of doubt. Reality can’t stand between somebody and a place of reassurance… movies simply open a door that only few can see. I think I secretly adore watching movies because they make you feel alive.

What a precious scene,

Daisy: I promise you, I'll never lose myself to self-pity again.
Benjamin Button: [while the day begins] And I think, right there and then, she realized none of us is perfect forever.

“You can be as mad as a mad dog at the way things went. You could swear, curse the fates, but when it comes to the end, you have to let go.”
— Benjamin Button

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.

This movie made me bored. Made me sad. Made me anxious. Made me startled. Made me laugh. Made me cry. Made me smile. Made me remember. Made me forget. Made me cry. Made me smile. Made me believe. Made me cry. I don’t know how I feel about this movie but the quotes are like candy to the soul. This movie to me was really upsetting because the main roles I got was of a woman who loved a man who was getting younger, and a man who loved a woman who was getting older. What would you do if you knew the one you loved was becoming a child? What would you do if you didn’t see the one you loved since he left and than he was all of a sudden a teenager? What would you do if you knew you couldn’t be with the one you loved till old age and die happily in eachothers arms? How sad, I thought. To watch the one you love deteriorate into a five year old who forgot your name, than a three year old who forget how to walk, than a one year old who forgot how to speak, and finally a few month old who looked at you and knew who you were than closed his little eyes and died in your arms… leaving you to be old alone and die alone. How sad, I thought. This movie was also happy because although he was different and he was alone, he lived a full life, and he had so much strength to do so. When he was a young boy, he looked like his grandfather and nobody understand why. He was alone. An abandoned old man who was only a baby, left on a doorstep for a wanting mother to love. His mother was dead, his father had run off and day in and day out he watched old people get taken away. Death visited often. He was loved dearly by his mother who took him in, he grew up.. in his own way. He boarded a ship and found another place to thrive, went to war and found love and so much love. He lived a life, a life only he could live. I don’t know how I feel about this movie. I wish he’d been saved, I wish he didn’t have to face it all alone. Maybe I feel empathy.

My hero.

Independence is really rather difficult when you don’t want to build a wall. Superman stays open, he gets hurt and keeps his faith in everybody, even Lex Luthor. This helps that little nerdy comic book geek within me, myself and I. Superman also went through alot when he was a teenager, it wasn’t just relationships, it was trying not to kill people with this granted strength. It was trying to manage the idea of not knowing his parents or planet. It was the extremely real genetic that he wasn’t even human and although I may feel like my skin doesn’t know me, he wasn’t known at all. He was an alien at first, just some kryptonite freak everybody pushed around as a nerd. Than he built, he built himself and a life around him with as few as five people having his back. One left, one turned evil, and one died. Leaving him with two people and a really frustrating fate. However, since he kept faith in the good of man, since he kept hope in himself and of others, since he believed that he was meant for good and since he wished to have that strength to pursue it… he became more than a superman, he became the symbol of the greatest strength out there. Something more than physical, something deep down within our hearts. He became the image of hope, of belonging, of truth, of believing, he became the symbol of all that is good in this corrupted madness we call home. Maybe that really is all it takes, to get past all the bad and all the pain that gets flung at your face and suffocates your ribcage. Superman, you found love and you became the worlds reason to keep going. Your life is far from easy but my god, you are a god. Superman, you keep me going.

Never surrender Mr. Undead, for your painful tears were worth the bloodshed.

Like a solider without bone. Nothing to break, nothing to take. What is he fighting for? Could it be as simple as a chance to feel something more someday. A chance to fill his hollow muscle that has been torn oh so many times before. To have something to break and to steal something not given to you. What is he fighting for? Then to simply live long enough to understand why he fought in the first place. To mend with the sense of the question, of why it’s asked all around him but not to him. Flesh peeled off his skin like a sick glued on bandage that was there for ten years, like the sting and stench of an earlobe being sliced off after the piercing needle. Feeling the loneliness, abandonment, disgusting facial feature frowning, and non-existent forgiveness among the innocent, intoxicated, idolized all natural uncontrollable emotion called, love. What is he fighting for? Equality, identity, balance… or in our political standpoint a little thing called Civil Rights. What he is fighting for is a section of this, Gay Rights. Yelling out NO! NO you can’t have your loved one wed by marriage! NO you can’t call your “partner” your husband! NO we can’t stand the sight of true love between two of the same so you can be alone and not trusted! What he is fighting for is simply beautiful, pure and peaceful. What consequence could there possibly be for wanting to take care of somebody else for the rest of your life? Huh? For wishing the people around you, neighbors and family members, wanted you to find happiness after all those years of being tormented in silence and wait? Consequence… NO will be the broken soul tripping and tumbling down the eighteen hundred and forty five staircases to hell, because NO is only preventing a priest to allow two already mended souls to be allowed forgiveness and a life filled with acceptance without worry.