MercyTheKitty Rants











{Mon, Dec 2055, '10}   Open Mic Night

So sorry it took so long to get back online… I found myself a life! :0

So somewhere or another, I posted something once about a Spanish poetry competition I entered… Hmmm…

Well, ever since then, I’ve loved Spanish poetry. I mean, I’ve always loved Spanish and poetry, but never together…

I was recently inspired to write a poem in Spanish of my own, after spending quite a while reading the works of others. This, I preformed at Open Mic Night (last Friday), dedicated to the foreign language teachers (namely one, because the other had left by then).  It’s entitled “Por Qué Cerramos Nuestros Ojos,” or, “Why We Close Our Eyes.”

So Open Mic Night turned out to be a big hit. My friends and I managed to tape most of it, with many technical errors involved, and with any luck, I might have some videos up… Within the next few years…

Anyways, my poem:

Cuando cierras tus ojos 

El mundo es lo que tú deseas

Y no tienes que ver la verdad.

Cuando cierro mis ojos

Estoy feliz

Y finjo que todo se queda bien.

Cuando cerramos nuestros ojos

Nos encerramos

Para que nadie más puede entrar.

El mundo nunca ha sido gran.

No pretendemos que fue.

Imaginamos lo que podía ha ser

Y lo que nunca fue.

Cuando cerramos nuestros ojos

La vida real es demasiado para suportar a veces.

Cerramos nuestros ojos para escondernos

Y para pensar.

Deseamos creer lo que es falso

Y sólo por uno momento

Cuando cerramos nuestros ojos.

When you close your eyes 

The world is what you want it to be

And you don’t have to see the truth.

When I close my eyes

I am happy

And I pretend everything will stay fine.

When we close our eyes

We lock ourselves away

So no one else may come in.

The world has never been great.

We do not pretend it was.

We imagine what could have been

And what never was.

When we close our eyes

Real life is too much to bear sometimes.

We close our eyes to hide

And to think.

We want to believe what is fake

If only for a moment

When we close our eyes.

This was my second act, by the way. To start, Cali and I preformed a cover of Davedays’ parody of Feliz Navidad. Must have been interesting to see some kid sing about not knowing Spanish, then appear with original poetry in the language…

Again, very big hit.

Oh, and this year, j’ai français Un aussi, mais j’aime mieux l’espagnol. One of our first French assignments was to write an introduction of ourselves (in French, oui), so I wrote that I like Spanish, poetry, and Spanish poetry. Of course!

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The above links are Facebook Events commemorating the six recent suicides of homosexual boys. I’ve been spending a lot of time scrolling through the comments of each event’s wall, flagging haters and commenting to open-hearted lovers.

My belief is that being homosexual is not a choice. It’s how you were born. It’s a mindset that you naturally have, whether you ever realize it or not. Imagine being tormented because of your muscle density or skin sensitivity– those are little details that make you unique, but cannot necessarily be seen with the naked eye. It’s the same thing! Why would you judge someone over something they have no control over, and instead choose to embrace? Is it a crime to be who you are?

This quote is from a t-shirt available at Cafe Press.

By the way, the Bible says nothing against homosexuality. Jesus loved everyone, man or woman alike. Why would he condemn someone for loving, as well? All the claims to God’s hate of homosexuality was primarily due to interpretation or translation errors. Just look it up!

On the wall of one of the events, someone wrote this about the Bible: “It was supposed to be a guide book not a rule book!” Jesus was all-forgiving of the sins of man, wasn’t he? Shouldn’t everyone be as forgiving and open? Religion is not precise– there are many things we do not know. It’s okay to be open to your own thoughts and opinions– God won’t be angry if you embrace diversity.

Haters will be blocked from my blog.

I know there are a lot of opinions contradicting what I said, too. As I said, I believe homosexuality is a given trait, whereas others may think it’s a choice or an instilled lifestyle. I’m open to these ideas.

I read a book entitles “The Less-Dead” that deals with homosexuality and the Bible. I encourage you all to read it.

Wear purple today, to honor the strife these six boys had to face.



{Mon, Jun 2820, '10}   Those Front-Step Days

Sorry for not posting in a lifetime! I’ll have to move on to a second generation of blog-readers.

When it’s nice out, like it is now (aaaah, summer), I like to play my guitar outside on the front steps of my house.

Here’s what you need to know: I have sporadic interest in my guitar. Every so often, my muses hit me and I go into a sudden flurry of song-writing, story-writing, drawing, whatever. When I get creative, I tend to play my guitar non-stop for hours at a time. Then, all my inspiration will leave and I wind up bored all day, wanting to do something creative, but not being able to. It’s like writer’s block.

When I first got my guitar, I went ballistic. I think my parents expected me to give it up because I tend to get into stuff, then quit. To their surprise, I did the opposite. My guitar and I were inseparable. Every time I picked it up, my mom would get really mad and tell me not to make noise.

So every time my muses leave, I sit around, having lost interest in my guitar. Then my muses come back, I make noise, my mom yells at me. It’s the great circle of life.

Because every time my muses come and it’s nice out, I an compelled to sit outside on the front steps and just play. Yeah…

I forgot where I was going with this. This post actually started as a draft I wrote in May…



{Sun, Aug 3013, '09}   The Inspiring Bee

I’m sorry I haven’t been blogging so much recently. I just thought you all might know that I was injured very severely. That’s right. I broke my blogging bone. Don’t worry! It has healed and I am undergoing physical therapy so I don’t strain it.

Okay, seriously, I didn’t come to blog about stupid jokes. (Even though I am a comedic genius) I came to talk about… a bee. A bee, see, dee ee eff…

Once again, I will start over. This morning, I went out to play my guitar. (It’s nice out, my mom was asleep, and my sis was doing homework) The first thing I saw when I stepped outside was a bee. Now, there are plenty of bees in my yard. There’s a big crack under the steps where they all live. But one bee in particular caught my attention. I don’t know what happened to it. Maybe it was stung by another bee, maybe it lost a wing. I don’t know. Anyways, this bee was upside down on the concrete, legs flailing. Every so often, the bee managed to flip over, only to try to fly and flip again. I was mesmerized and watched for a really long time. (half an hour?)

Finally, I got around to practicing my guitar. The whole time, I watched the bee. It stopped moving several times, and I feared it was dead, but after 10-ish minutes, it always got right back to squirming. I also decided to study the other bees.

The hole under the crack by the stairs is only large enough for two bees to enter or exit at a time. Often times, one bee will go in as another leaves. I found it interesting to stare at their orange-colored legs…

Anyways, at one point, two bees tried to enter as another one tried to leave. Let me tell you: bees have no manners. The three of them pushed and shoved at eachother. Finally, two bees forced their way in whatever direction they were going, and the third was forced to wait until they were gone.

Another time, as I was watching the steady stream of bees entering and leaving the nest, I noticed one further along the crack. It flew into the raised half of the concrete crack, banged it’s head, flew back, moved over, flew forward, banged it’s head, moved back… Get what I’m saying? It kept blindly feeling its way to the hole. None of the other bees bothered to help direct it, or catch it’s attention, or anything. It found the hole eventually, all alone with a headache.

Well, back to the bee that couldn’t fly– It was stuck in the same place for a few hours. Flying, flopping. Flying, flopping. I almost wanted to kill it so it wouldn’t have to suffer. But I steadily watched it. Of course, none of the other bees even gave a [insert choice word here]. They flew by and didn’t do anything to help. Eventually, the bee froze. I watched it to make sure it started struggling for life, again, but it didn’t. It stayed still for a good half an hour/hour before I stopped watching it. I fugured it had died.

When I was done with my guitar business, I packed up my stuff and headed inside. I gave one glance to the place where the bee had been, then did a double take. The bee was gone! I hope it finally managed to fly…

Even though the bee was abandones and helpless, it still struggled to the end, and didn’t give up, as I would have in that scenario. The bee is an inspiration to me, and I dedicate my song, “Cold and Wet,” to it. (Now to record it…)

The other bees are selfish, arrogant brats.

Or maybe I’m thinking into this a bit too much…



et cetera