The Heart Never Lies- McFly

silent night rendition for inspire

Soap Box

for my composition one informative essay we're supposed to write about our favourite thing to talk about so i'm writing a paper entitled "Myths and Misconceptions about the Catholic Faith". she told me not to do it because there's no way to prove any of my points as facts. so i'm determined to prove her wrong an write the greatest paper of all time. here's the opening paragraph to my paper.

My aim is not to convert, nor is it to blame. My aim is simply to educate, to put an end to ignorance. I have been attacked, yelled at, put down, for my faith because people think that they understand what I believe when in reality these are simply prejudices passed down from generation to generation against myself and my people. Some of these prejudices are grounded in reality, and some simply are not. I wish for my readers to understand the difference between reality and indifference. 

EAT THAT COMP 1 TEACHER!!!

Phone Numbers

so i'm in college, i don't know if you've deduced this yet, but it's true. i am. and i don't know how dating works in college. there was this guy and he walked me home a few times and we stayed up till all hours of the night holding hands and stuff. but this week i saw him holding hands with a skank (pardon my french, this blog is rated R) so i guess that's over, or never happened i suppose. anywho, so today i said something absent-mindedly along the lines of "i need me a man" to which my friend Shelly jumped into the air and said "ooh! i have a friend named Randy! text him! you'll like him!" i've never texted a guy i didn't know before, except in high school as a random prank. so i did this and he and i are getting along, so i'm just saying now that if he and i ever ended up together, it's all because of a random sentence uttered out of sadness and boredom and a friends longing to be a match-maker.

there's this thing called love and we all strive most of our lives to find it. and soetimes we watch it pass right in front of us and do nothing about it. sometimes we reach for it and just miss it. sometimes it's been there the whole time but you couldn't recognize it. and standing here with all these different roads to travel yet in this insignificant life of mine, i wonder what will happen to me on the road to love. is he traveling right beside me and all i have to do to find him is look to the right? is he my best friend who's holding my hand through it all? or do i not know him yet? will i meet him somewhere ahead on this crazy road?
only this i know, no one has the same road except him and i.

He looked up to the sky, his hands in fists in his pockets, his eyes watering softly, slowly, passionately. The sky grew orange in his eyes and she watched as his lips moved enveloping her in a story about his past. Letting her know every sin of his heart, every joy of his heart, every moment of his life. And she listened intently as his eyes lit up and as his eyes darkened, seeking through the pathways of time, translating every memory into a story of passion, heroism, Love, anger, regret. She saw that this was draining him and smiled to know that he was truly sharing everything. Opening himself up fully to her. He trusted her. She'd strived so long to be trusted by this man and this man alone. Because she loved him and wanted every part of him, of his mind, of his body, of his soul. And now he gave these things to her and regretted nothing.

(this is a little story i wrote.... or as my friend Rafe calls it; A Moment.)

Short Story 1

this is something i wrote a really long time ago, but i recently revisited and changed a little bit. i hope you like it.

You know that feeling you get when you wake up and roll over and reach for them, only to find the bed empty and cold? You just have to roll over, onto the floor, and for one terrifying minutes, you can’t remember how to breathe. You realize that there isn’t a reason to have woken up, they were your reason.

He was mine.

All of this repeated over and over in my mind for a few minutes till I gained enough strength to stand. I stood, but didn’t move. I swayed for a minute then turned, crawling back under the covers. I curled my legs up to my chest, wrapped my entire body around a pillow and bit into it. I dared myself not to cry but when had my emotions ever listened to me before? One shuddering, agonized sob escaped from my lips as the first tear made a trail down my cheek and soaked into the pillow. Many more would follow.

Biting into the pillow didn’t help. My sobs echoed through the whole house. Images, like movie clips, flashed through my mind. A dusty old book shop on the 4^th of July. A bouquet of daisies. Going swimming. Playing bingo at the retirement home.

Another reality hit me like a brick wall. Those days were over. But what now? How can I possibly be expected to totally reorganize my life without any warning?

Blink. Blood. Blink. Broken glass. Blink. Sirens.

I squeezed my eyes shut and willed it to stop

Blink, twisted metal.

I screamed and threw the pillow across the room. Standing up, I ran into the kitchen, and tripping over the unfinished carpet in the hallway, I landed on the cold tile with a thud and didn’t get up. I screamed again, sitting up and curling into a ball, my face buried in my knees, my fingers yanking at my hair. My scream turned into a sob.

“WHY!!!!???” it was a scream but halfway through the word my voice gave out in a shuddering moan. I let my head hang back and cried.

The sadness slowly boiled into an anger, a hate, one I’d never experienced before in my life. I opened my eyes and saw the ceiling. A realization hit me.

“You took him from me.” it was God’s fault. “The lord giveth, the lord taketh away.” A hate overflowed from my very inner soul. I stood but a sudden helplessness filled me. I collapsed to my knees and looked at my arm.

Like a blubbering idiot I started to rip off the bandages. “Take me instead.” It started as an almost silent plea, through gasps of air. Then grew louder and louder till I was almost hoarse. “Give him back and take me!” I was ripping at my medical tape and the gauze. “I don’t even want to be here! Let me go! Let him stay! You’re god! You’re all powerful! I know you can do it! SO DO IT!!!! Take me! Kill me! PLEASE! Please!!!! Please!” I repeated the word over and over till I was lying on the floor, passed out, surrounded by bloody gauze.

Loretta rang the doorbell, a tissue in one hand, a casserole in the other. She was here to visit her daughter-in-law. She'd barely been able to get out of bed herself, her sons death had been such a surprise. He'd been her only child, now she was a motherless woman. She felt empty, like her only meaning in life was gone. All of her men were dead now. She'd never really liked her daughter-in-law, but she remembered the day after her Wesley had died, she'd been a completely mess. At least he'd died in war and she'd been somewhat prepared for it to happen, her more daughter-in-law had been blind sided, quite literally and he'd been taken from her.

She rang the doorbell again. Melanie was probably lying in bed, crying, not wanting to move. But Loretta had to see her. She had to tell her about her Wesley dying, she couldn't stand the thought of her sons true love having to go through what she'd gone through without any help.

She rang the doorbell a third time but realized there was a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. She reached down and tried the handle, the door was unlocked. She stuck her head inside and looked around, there were pillows everywhere.

“Melanie?” she shouted into the house letting herself in and shutting the door behind her. She began to make her way back to the bedroom, but when she set down the casserole on the coffee table the phone rang.

“Hello?” she asked, feeling awkward about answering her sons phone.

“Mrs. Taylor? Wife of Robert Taylor?” the man on the other line asked.

“this is his mother.” she answered.

“oh, well hello ma'am. I'm calling with good news. Your son is alive. The doctors were able to revive him, they didn't call last night because they didn't expect him to make it, but he did, he's doing okay. Can you and Mrs. Taylor come to the hospital?”

but Loretta had noticed something. There was blood on the kitchen floor. She looked at it, confused. She took a step to the side and saw a pale, white foot in the sea of red.

“can you please send an ambulance to this address?” she asked the man on the phone.

“what wrong?” he asked her.

“i think my daughter-in-law has tried to kill herself.” she answered and set the phone down.

She jogged around the corner and into the kitchen to find Melanie lying on her side in the middle of the kitchen floor surrounded by blood, her red hair soaked in deeper red, her bright green eyes staring blankly, empty, at the outside of the cabinet. Her pale irish skin was even paler, completely empty of colour.

Loretta fell weak, her hand went over her mouth and her eyes grew wide.

The only thing that would take the picture of Melanie's corpse was the picture of her son, alive, barely.

She and the doctors agreed to tell him that Melanie had died in the accident, he didn't need to know about her sacrifice.

Ted Bundy and Hammer Killers (don't read if you're squeamish)

today i learned of a string of 21 murders in the Ukraine. including an old man who'd just survived cancer who's death video was posted online for kicks. upon hearing this i was filled with depression. what would posses a human being to do something as inhuman, as unloving, as.... horrifying, as murdering 21 innocent people with a hammer and screw driver? including a pregnant woman who's womb they cut out of her body. three young men with perfect futures ahead of them. what kind of men would do that? what has to be wrong with someone for them to take a kitten and glue it's mouth shut, nail it to a cross and shoot it? what kind of a young man would kill two 14 year old boys just because they were walking past? what kind of man would kill an innocent 28 year old who just came back from the front, simply because he was unarmed by alcohol? what kind of man would do these things?

now see, the strange thing about me is that i have a favourite serial killer. yes, Ted Bundy is my favourite serial killer. i'm not saying killing people is okay, because its not. under any circumstance besides self defense, and even then, try all other options first. but if i had to choose a favourite, which i have, i'd pick Ted Bundy. when he killed people, he was inventive, he was intelligent, he was attractive, yes, i said it, he was attractive.

i guess part of my sad mood is because this weekend i watched The Color Purple for the first time and bawled my head off, like, i've cried at movies, but never out loud, bawling, all out sobbing. and i was. it was a great movie. and the sad thing about that movie is that things like that happen to people every single day of every year in time. and it sucks that humanity can have such a dark dark side. why can't we all just be good people?

Joplin, Missouri

this Saturday i took a charter bus to go to Joplin to help people who are still helpless. it was actually really lame. we didn't actually do anything. instead of tearing down a house, or building a house, or painting something for heavens sake! we helped no one. we raked dead grass and put it in bags even though they're gonna tear up the high school and make it all dirty again anyway. pointless much? i wanted to help people. bleh, oh well.
they're gonna go on another trip and i think i'm gonna go too, we met a contractor who's been there for 4 months from Philadelphia and he needs some help to frame houses and i'm overjoyed because one, i know how to do that. and two, that's actually helping someone, god forbid we actually help someone!
it's actually really crazy to drive through Joplin and see what the tornado did. there's literally this mile wide dent in the middle of the town. and the high school is cratered in, i have pictures but i don't know how to load them on here yet. maybe i will later. anyway, i'd never seen the after-effects of a tornado before and it was daunting. one of my friends put it perfectly "it looks like a post-apocalyptic movie." and that's exactly what it looks like. the hospital and high school look like they were ripped open and a zombie could jump out at any moment. it was poetic in a tragic way. to think of the 161 people who died is so sad. but to think of how many survived is a miracle.

Diet Dr. Pepper

just a tiny little update, i lost another fish this weekend. all i have left is Enrique and Kai. i swear Kai is a horrible murderer but i'm too nice to put him up for execution. oh well.

so Diet Dr. Pepper is God's gift to the world. i'm kinda really addicted. i'm also addicted to Peanut M&M's, they're really delicious. but today as i walked past my favourite snack machine on my way to work i found that they were out of Peanut M&M's and i was really sad. so i got some Famous Amos Cookies instead. mmmmmmm.

being a working college student is not as easy as i may make it seem. it's actually really stressfull. going from having three classes in the mornings to working for a few hours to having another (exceedingly boring) class afterward is not fun. whilst i love my job and all my classes, i don't like mixing them. i would much rather just have one or the other. plus when i get home my roommater likes to nag me about all that i don't do. when in reality, all ihave the energy to do at that point is hug my matress and catch some Z's. i'm always exhausted, but ya know what? i'm proud to be a working college student who is well on her way to having a real adult life.

Charlie Horses and Racism

so i've now woken up two days in a row to a charlie horse in my calf and let me just tell you that that is NOT fun. waking up to searing pain that seems to come from nowhere is scary and i just don't like it.

i'm sure you're all wondering why Racism is in the title. yesterday, well, last night, i was talking with a dear friend of mine, his name is Jeremy Foster and he's a wonderful man. he also happens to be black. and apparently this town is racist, which completely surprised me. i hate racists with a burning passion. it's like, people, if you're gonna be prejudiced, don't be. that's all i have to say.

Ichigo

Ichigo is the Japanese word for Strawberry. Ichi is the Japanese word for One.
my fish Ichigo was the first fish to come up and say hi when i went to Walmart to pick out my new, squirmy, fishies. i loved her from the start.
Last night my Little Ichigo died. the other two fish, Horatio and Kai, killed her. i think anyway. but i'm super sad. you can all officially call me Darla; the fish killer. because it's impossible for me to keep a fish alive for more than a month. mark my words, Horatio, Enrique and Kai will be dead by the end of the month. but i also promise to do all i can to prevent that.
Darla out.

On Love

so there's this thing that people like to call Love. what is it? does anyone actually, really, truly know? those who claim to have it are divorced a few years later and those who claim to have never felt it ache to think of the one they had. is that Love? to long and ache and cry and miss someone? i don't think it is. Love is beautiful and Love is kind and Love is.... well, indescribable. these days people use the word Love as a substitution for almost everything. "i Love tacos!" "i Love muffins!" "i Love Mariokart!"
but do they really mean it like the way the word was meant to be used? i say no. of course most people would say no as well but then they'll turn around and say "i Love going to allstar sports."
i say we should all sit down and think of the word Love. think of the one person you've always wanted to say it to. and then realize, maybe the word should be more respected.
let's all go to bed tonight thinking of Love.

Men and The Beatles

these are two completely different topics but i thought that title sounded more interesting :)



when the Beatles say "something in the way she moves..." i don't think they thought about how it might affect a 17-year old girl 50 years later. when i hear that song come on my IPod and watch him while he's doodling or doing his homework or talking to his friends, i relate, heart and soul, to those words. because when he moves it's like quick sand and i'm sinking ever closer to him. and there's no explaination as to why!!! it's simply.... something.



boys are wierd. wonderful... but wierd. i have lots of guy-friends and from them i learn things. the thing is, boys are simple. but each one is different. there are different boy-forms. quiet followers, quiet leaders, loud leaders, and loud loud. and that's pretty much it, though of course there are variations. but each boy hides his form!!! so us poor women follow them around and get tot hem them and interrogate them so we can figure out which one they are! and boys of course assume that we're wierd, bipolar women, when in fact, it's simply curiosity that leads us to be such a thing.

these are simply the musings of a mad woman who's just begun her life. let's see where it goes from here :)

The Very First

This is the very first blog ever posted by me, P.S. Hathaway, here on multicolouredbutterflies. and the only problem with that is; i can't think of anything to write about.
fish: i think most people have owned a fish at one time or another, but i can't even begin to say how hard it is for me to keep a fish alive. my friend Carly brought me a fish as a housewarming gift, as i've just moved into my new apartment here in this new city, and i named him Rodrigo because i like naming my fish non-American names. well 12 hours later i came home to find Rodrigo floating, belly up, in his tank. after flushing him and having my room-mate nickname me Darla (after the fish-killer from Finding Nemo) i went to walmart and blew all of my saving (approzimately 40 dollars) on getting four new fish, a real tank, real food, real decorations and a little net for the next time i killed one of them. i named these four new fish Kai, Ichigo, Horatio and Enrique. they are still alive although Ichigo is beginning to look a little depressed, she's smaller than the other fish and i feel like they're beating her up. which sucks. cuz she's the prettiest of them all. and if you knew me, you'd know that i don't put up with bullying. i'm kind of a hard-ass like that.
so i'll keep you updated on my fish and which ones i kill and how long it takes. it's been two whole days and they're still alive so i'm feeling a lot better about it :) maybe even a little bit hopeful. maybe i actually won't kill these ones.