Once In a Blue Moon

I've never quite understood that phrase so, if you know the origins of it, please inform me...

I haven't really had much to blog about lately, whether it be an epiphany about the color green or a rant about Patrick Dempsey. To be quite honest, this past week was really just one long study session, spanning over, seemingly, every waking second of my life. Finals. Curses be upon them and those who thought up such vile things! I understand they are some-what necessary, but they're a nuisance none the less. Fortunately, they all went reasonably well and are finally over! It is now "stress-free" week (as if there ever truly was such a thing!) However, to date, the week has been a far cry from its namesake. Oh the joys of teenage existence! -.- Between playing catch-up with all of my ridiculously behind schedule teachers, worrying over my academic future (PSAT scores are coming in soon!), and attempting to manage some sort of sanity (or insanity, as it were) I haven't had much time to really take a second and stop. Have you tried that recently? Just pausing, if even for a moment, to think about nothing but silence. peace. calm... I certainly don't get enough of that on a day to day basis. No matter how many times I hear that sermon about how the Lord speaks in the silence, watch that Nooma video with Rob Bell turning off the TV, or write "Be Quiet!" in my planner, I never seem to be able to consistently uphold that ideal. There's always something else to think about; something else to do; another thing to add to the endless list of things that need to be done before I can start anything else. *sigh*

To change the subject before I start to ramble about silence in the midst of choas, I sorted through my desk drawer yesterday! It was truly an amazing experience! You see, I generally toss whatever interesting bits of paper I have lying around into that drawer, as well as knick-knacks and other oddities. Whilst I was digging through the black hole, I came across an old notebook, full of things I can't remember writing but must have, as they were in my script. Amongst the beginnings of short stories and hastily jotted lines of verse, I found a poem. 'Twas almost complete, needing improvement certainly, but not entirely without potential as most of the rest seemed to be. What made it stand out though, was its tone. If ever I were to write poetry, most would expect it to be light-hearted, full of ridiculous rhymes and to be taken at face value. Oddly enough, this unnamed bit of writing was dark, free-verse, and full of dual meanings. Isn't it interesting how we can go through stages of life, obviously ones that hit us hard, and then forget them, just as quickly as they come? I don't know when I wrote it, it had no date. I don't know why I wrote it, there was no explanation. The spelling was atrocious and the rhythm was slightly off. But it must have meant something to me... another thing to ponder in my "free time"...