anything but ordinary [please]

she's a writer --
dreams stories,
makes love with fantasy
and waltzs with the sacred,
the untouchable

she'll extract the wisdom from your mind,
the exotic desires
and secret tales from your soul,
like a slimy-smooth leech
imbibing the blood from your
warm, tingling body
[the goal is always,
after all,
to suck the marrow out of life]

there's a quiet mystery about her,
this story-telling pirate
of broken hearts
and pyramids of love --
there is always love,
in every breath and every word --
she'll spend her life writing and recording
both the epic and the ordinary truths
that itch to be heard...


the unpredicted guest

beautifully unexpected,
the cello player on the front porch;
eerie shadows and gruesome scenery
could not touch the captivating art of his song.
he played and he sang,
his sad and sweet tune rising above
background tv noise and drunken laughter;
and we,
his intoxicated audience,
sang along,
our voices very out of tune [and his quite on tune]--
yet the beauty of it all continued to escalate
and soon we were all intoxicated with the glories
of passion and life,
painful though it often is...
but in these moments
we felt his bow reverberate inside us
and our voices collide
and soon we were all one lover,
one tangled chaos of
hungry and sumptuous and inspired


i can only blame myself/you can only blame me

Current Playlist
[to heal]
  1. Complete "Watching Over You" album by Phil Joel
  2. "Posters" by Jack Johnson
  3. "New Soul" by Yael Naim
  4. "Won't Go Home Without You" by Maroon 5
  5. "The Scientist" by Coldplay [i can never heal without this song]
  6. "Swallowed in the Sea" by Coldplay [see above]
  7. "The Luckiest" by Ben Folds
  8. "Brightly Wound" by Eisley
  9. "Such Great Heights" by The Postal Service
  10. "Daughters" by John Mayer
  11. "Samson" by Regina Spektor
  12. "Calendar Girl" by Stars
  13. "Don't Panic" by Coldplay
  14. "New Slang" by the Shins
  15. "Wheel" by John Mayer
  16. "Let Go" by Frou Frou
  17. "Someone Saved My Life Tonight" by Elton John
  18. "Can You Feel the Love Tonight?" by Elton John
  19. "Vienna" by Billy Joel
  20. "Your Song" by Elton John [mmm how predictable :) ]


perhaps you are wondering why i need this healing playlist,
these lovely magic musicians who save my life everytime?
because i sometimes fuck up, real bad,
and it's usually all in my head,
and i'm really not so so bad,
but i can't help but lose it,
most of the time.

GOD is all we ever really need.

el salvador

i just want to be beautiful
and i think that's all i've ever wanted
but maybe not

[it's just so hard to tell when you feel
so fractured inside]

a million glass pieces
could never reflect
what i am/wish/could be
so i'll settle for this thing called living

{will someone save my life tonight?}

there are no answers
for a life without questions,
no passion
in a life without exclamations...

[it's a good thing every day ends with a question mark/exclamation point]


"I will go straight to God"

Jack Vinson
Kiangsu Province, Mainland China

The bandit told the missionary, "I'm going to kill you. Aren't you afraid?"
Jack Vinson replied simply, "Kill me, if you wish. I will go straight to God."
Vinson's courage inspired his friend E.H. Hamilton to write this poem:
Afraid? Of what?
To feel the Spirit's glad release?
To pass from pain to perfect peace,
The strife of strain and life to cease?
Afraid -- of that?
Afraid? Of what?
Afraid to see the Savior's face
To hear His welcome, and to trace
The glory gleam from wounds of grace?
Afraid -- of that?
Afraid? Of what?
A flash, a crash, a pierced heart;
Darkness, light, O Heaven's art!
A wound of His a counterpart!
Afraid -- of that?
Afraid? Of what?
To do by death what life could not --
Baptize with blood a stony plot,
Till souls shall blossom from the spot?
Afraid -- of that?


Seventeen Magazine's Body Peace Treaty

I vow to...
  • Remember that the sun will still rise tomorrow even if I had one too many slices of pizza or an extra scoop of ice cream tonight.
  • Never blame my body for the bad day I'm having.
  • Quite judging a person solely by how his or her body looks--even if it seems harmless--because I'd never want anyone to do that to me.
  • Notice all the amazing things my body is doing for me every moment I walk, talk, think, breathe.
  • Quiet that negative little voice in my head when it starts to say mean things about my body that I'd never tolerate anyone else saying about me.
  • Remind myself that what you see isn't always what you get on TV and in ads--it takes a lot of airbrushing, dieting, money, and work to look like that.
  • Remember that even the girl who I'd swap bodies with in a minute has something about her looks that she hates.
  • Respect my body by feeding it well, working up a sweat when it needs it, and knowing when to give it a break.
  • Realize that the mirror can reflect only what's on the surface of me, not who I am inside.
  • Know that I'm already beautiful just the way I am.
  • j.c.d.

    Story of the Day:

    We used to go visit my grandma on the train & on the way my sister & I would talk to people we met & tell them we were from Hawaii & could speak Polynesian & I'd hold up a 7-Up & say this is called puka-puka-wanini on the Big Island & we'd make up longer and longer names until it took about 10 minutes to say one & about that time we would be there & we'd say aloha & go off to have lunch at my grandma's & my sister would hold up a Mrs. Paul's fish stick & say in Hawaii they call these molo-molo-pooey-pooey & I'd try not to choke on my fruit punch.

    brian andreas


    for bum.

    [i tried to post it as a comment to one of your posts, but it wouldn't let me, so, yeah. here it is, for y o u.]

    the purest love is [most often] the simplest.

    it was a simple act,
    though born of love.
    {i love you}

    the response was tremendous,
    an abundance of heart & soul &

    [i sent a random text message to my aunt kimmy,
    who i rarely speak with or see,
    and it sparked something wonderful and beautiful between us,
    and now we just love making each other's day]


    "so i'm a little left of center..."

    this is who/what/where i am--
    broken pieces of everything i've met,
    a collage of people, places, cultures, ideas...
    a rough but bright mosaic,
    shimmery words and elusive images,
    a disturbed pattern of bright pink stars and teal hearts,
    made of wispy memories, bold dreams,
    still-bloody wounds and engraved scars.

    i'm a mess of war paints, lost gems, ink-empty pens,
    worn but deeply loved books and journals and anthologies,
    a creatively organized yet dysfunctional poem,
    made to
    rend your heart and
    bother your mind and
    drench your soul...
    a glittering mess of

    [everyone wants to save the world;
    i want to save everyone]

    a little piece of lovely longing

    [art by kurt halsey]

    your eyes smile on my lips
    deeply, sweetly, hot like poison;
    there are a million feelings to tremble my hips
    and a million more that explode within.

    lost lonely broken confused--waiting for
    your strong arms to grab me close
    and hold me, kill me, give me more
    of the one person i [think i] need most.


    "I'm from He restoreth my soul/with a cottonball lamb"

    [first, a laugh]:

    haha! [emphasis on the triumphant here]

    just when you think that humanity has "gone to the dogs",
    or sucks,
    or is just plain shitty,
    some[one wonderful] amazes you
    and sets you straight.

    two days ago [two lonely and tiresome days ago],
    i found myself sitting on a bench just outside the library,
    half-conscious, drifting off, waiting to meet up with others for a group project.
    besides the fact that only one other group member showed up,
    it wasn't until i was on the bus, nearly home, when i realized that my expensive British literature textbook was *gasp* missing. actually, not 'missing', because i knew exactly where it should be. half an hour later i found myself at that very bench (forget about the fact that i had to drive myself BACK to school), still without a Brit lit text. i ask one of the librarians. nope. the next day, i ask another librarian. nope. i call the main school lost and found. nope.

    so now, not only am i textbook-less (and syllabus-less because i kept the syllabus in the textbook) for class, but i have wasted time, money, energy, and gasoline. oh yes--and hope. because who steals a poor college kid's textbook? c'mon now, people. that's just not right. (in fact, the librarian told me whoever found it probably took it immediately to the bookstore and sold it back...)

    and so this afternoon, as i am waiting for my British literature professor to arrive to class, i am surprised when he a) calls my name, b) informs me that i lost my textbook, and c) says that someone saw his name on the syllabus in my book and delivered the book to him (because only my first initial and last name were written inside the book). and, like that, faith.was.restored.

    thank you, someone [un-stranger]...i wish i knew who you were, so that i might thank you and hug you and give you a sprinkled cupcake at the very least. thank you for returning my book, but more than that, thank you for showing me that there are indeed good people--wonderful, magnificent, kind, magnanimous people--living amongst us in this deeply torn and cynical and selfish world.

    [may God bless you for your kindness and your character and your soul...and of course, thank You, Lord, for Your wonderful miracles and beautiful ways]


    [always] for you

    be my love
    and save my life;
    i'll try to forget
    where i hid that knife.
    brimming, quite full
    of broken, bloody wings--
    i've never understood
    how to fix these things.
    on the outside, you'll
    think i'm healthy and full,
    but the deeper you go
    the harder i'll pull...
    there is no satisfying end
    or new happy way
    to settle these torments
    that blind and decay
    and thrash and tear--
    but inside a soul
    and hidden in a heart
    is a new kind of peace and an unforgettable start.


    america's next freaking top model

    [just so you know, they're not really this beautiful]

    {thank you,
    pop culture, for making me feel so inferior/unattractive all of the time. really. because now i'm learning to love what's R E A L and i'm learning how to BE real and i'm learning to stop admiring you because you are not real and nothing that i E V E R want to be}


    a night without armor

    mmm. i always know i've read a good book when i hold it in my hands and realize that it seems so much thicker afterward because i've earmarked every other page...
    ::thank you, ammi, for all of your impeccable recommendations::

    the quotes are selected beauties from jewel's a night without armor, the inserts are mine:

    "And all night we dreamt
    of all the impossible things
    we would do when we grew up."

    {i'm still hoping and waiting and praying...this just cannot be it--i am too young to be grown up--i never ever want to grow up--but i want to be impossible--and change the world}

    "I thought to myself, he must be
    a particular kind of being
    a breed of person that is made simply
    and perfectly to love."

    {and what greater purpose is there, than to love and be loved; indeed, it is the g r e a t e s t thing you'll ever learn}

    "Gold Fish
    In my belly is a gold fish.
    I swallowed it and kept it there.
    I sing to it, and can feel it wiggle
    when it especially likes the tune--
    Brahms makes it do backflips of glee."

    {haha how i adore this poem...and how ingenious, i must admire}

    "...we are both artists
    who suck the marrow out
    of each lovely bone

    It just happens to be
    my lovely bones
    this time

    How Bare"

    {beauty intermingles with honesty and lovers' pain...but i suppose such is the way of loving another--always beautiful (because love and beauty are nearly one) yet so often sorrowful/painful/bleeding, and cannot work (or at least survive) without the truth}

    "So Just Kiss Me
    So just kiss me and let my hair
    messy itself in your fingers

    tell me nothing needs to be done--
    no clocks need winding

    There is no bell without a voice
    needing to borrow my own

    instead, let me steady myself
    in the arms

    of a man who won't ask me to be
    what he needs, but lets me exist

    as I am

    a blonde flame
    a hurricane

    wrapped up
    in a tiny body
    that will come to his arms
    like the safest harbor
    for mending"

    {when you are in love, you just know}


    Open Open Heart

    open heart

    He told me one time he forgot himself & his heart opened up like a door with a loose latch & he tried for days to put it all back in proper order but finally he gave up & left it all jumbled up there in a pile & loved everything equally.

    -brian andreas



    Tonight, my darling wanted to see the film "Blindness" (and I must admit, I was curious to see the film as well). We expected a horror film, but stumbled upon something very different indeed. Throughout most of the film, I was disgusted--quarantines never [seem to] go over well; dozens of blind people, quarantined, herded and shoved and fed like animals, left to govern themselves [imagine filth and hate and starvation and ignorance and selfishness and rape]. For most of the film I felt like I was wasting my time. I'm surprised I didn't leave halfway through but I'm glad I stayed. It's amazing, because just when you think/expect/fear that everything is hopeless, you remember/realize/witness the beauty of human perseverance and love [that's exactly what Julianne Moore's character was, too: love]. But to see two strangers unite in innocent passion, a woman come back to life from depression, an orphan find a new family, a couple find love again through forgiveness...these are the things of happiness and triumph [and extremely aesthetic and message-laden movies, as well].

    So tonight I am going to fall asleep with imagines of people laughing and hugging in the rain, as well as with a quote that went something like this:

    "I don't need to know your name because I know the parts of you that are nameless, and that's all we really are."


    i'm sorry [it's so often so sad]

    it's cold [on the inside] and my heart
    is a frozen, tiny, crystal igloo,
    awaiting the heat of worlds torn apart,
    torn apart by thoughts of you.

    there's a little, precious lever
    too delicate to locate or pull;
    i'm far too weak and afraid to ever
    allow myself to feel love in full.

    there's time but there's none--
    i feel nothing and wasted and tired and worn.
    they assure me that i'm never alone
    but no matter what i'm still lost and forlorn.

    i'm there and you're here and somehow
    we're separate but one; there's
    so much more than i can say or vow,
    a soul filled with tiny holes and tears.

    Another look back...

    Hoy es el veintiseis de agosto del 2005.

    Today has been a good day so far (10:35 am) because:

    1. I watched "Hey Arnold" before school this morning
    2. I am having a "new" hair day
    3. I heard an awesome song in the car this morning ("Sugar We're Going Down" by FOB)
    4. I'm alive and well
    5. I earned a PERFECT on my AP Stats multiple choice section!!!
    {Praise God from whom all blessings flow}



    She's right--I very rarely write about my life on here. I don't know if that's because it's easier to pen the poetry the swims around in my head/heart/soul all day long or because I'm trying to touch the heart{s} of someone/many/myself or because I enjoy {trying to be a} mystery too much or all/none of the above. Whatever the reason, I'm throwing it out the window tonight--for her, because I adore her friendship and we are, after all, very old and dear friends...

    Some days [like today], fear wraps its long arms around my chest as worry finds its way inside my body so that it might consume me from the inside out {worry is the very worst}. I feel like there's so little time, so much to be done, so much to feel, so much to love, so much to create. That is my favorite--to create. That is when I feel beautiful because I have been productive and invented and become something bigger than myself [ah, and imagine--God's level of creation is on such a grander scale! mmm the beauty...]. I want more of this time to create--more time to write and craft and paint and draw and learn and grow and read and laugh and feel--but I cannot [will not?] say no to school or work or people or elections or cleaning or dentists or cars or bills or groceries. Sometimes the thought of America haunts me, for it is driven by consumerism (worthless junk), high tolerance for immorality, uninvolved and greedy and selfish and celebrity-obsessed people (but really, let's not get me started on damn celebrities). And as much as this country sometimes disgusts me, I realize that I myself am a piece of this country; I carry around American values in my pocket, a true culture kid/junkie. And I want to rise above all of this, move somewhere--not anywhere, but somewhere--that does not thrive on work and worry. Until then, until I find a happy place [whether it be an actual location or a secret paradise in my mind] I find the optimist in me pointing out that I have more freedoms than I can even be thankful for, so thank You for putting me here and giving me life and freedom and health and love, especially Your love.


    My second thought for the night:

    I am in love with him, truly deeply madly in love. And there's nothing more comforting than his touch...but why do I cringe, sometimes? I'm pretty sure it's me, not him, because I'm always looking for something to do and cannot sit still and mostly he just likes to hold me but I cannot be held but I want to be held.

    far too often i look for love/happiness/satisfaction in all the wrong places.


    mmm. i hope that is what you were looking for, my friend [good night and God bless]...


    break open your heart
    that i might know your secrets
    and weep iridescent tears of redemption

    you say there’s nothing real
    inside of your raw, bleeding mind because
    you cannot see the beauty
    in a soul rent apart

    [i know there's a little more than
    you imagined;
    i can only see the dark love potions swirling
    in your eyes
    and i will wait for the enchantment
    to take hold of me, for always]


    Looking back...


    My name is
    Jaclyn Carace Elizabeth DuBois


    {i am going to write a children's book one day, they are beautiful}


    This book is dedicated to:


    {thank YOU for YOUR LOVE}


    Things I like to do: CREATE, go to theme parks, write, learn, travel, SCUBA, be with my love, talk to my mom, watch tv when eating, go to Grammy's, hike


    Things to do before I die:

    1. Live.

    I wish I could change: my mind, view, and perception of myself. So much of me is torn, scattered, but mainly distorted.


    Things that make me happy: Disney, childhood, fantasy...love & love stories...being beautiful...evidence of Christianity and love and compassion...O, to journal...Christmas, Halloween, my birthday...Elton John songs...not having to work...my curly hair...

    consanguinity -- relationship by blood or a common ancestor

    "Single most influential piece of music ever written" : Symphony #3 by Beethoven

    [according to Mr. Honsa]


    Jaclyn DuBois' senior quote: "How wonderful life is..."


    [and then i end with three pages of Spanish notes, including a list of animals and insects]

    mmm. interesting.


    i'm surprised at how much i am [always] missing you

    i'm never quite sure how to say this
    [in fact, i'm never quite sure what to say]
    but it usually starts out with a simple list
    of ways you've reversed my mind's decay.

    i'm tiny, i'm little [yet i often feel huge];
    there's nothing i can remember or reason
    that'll ease my worry or even soothe
    the pain i inflict upon my heart of treason.

    sometimes i'm low but still, i can see
    my dreams grow large and exotic and daring and pure
    so that every magical creature and beast
    wishes it were part of this iridescent grandeur.

    i cannot be had, and somehow you're not mine;
    you don't understand the darkness of my soul
    and i cannot behold your aching mind;
    the constant turbulence devours us whole.

    and somehow, in some enchanted world or way,
    there's a simple peace between our throbbing, sore
    hearts that thankfully forces us to give away
    the demons that haunt our grieving cores.

    [although we cannot be had or give ourselves up,
    we can become one entity and desire
    that burns like a raging, passionate, love-fueled fire]


    Something/one new to love

    blinks her golden-hazel eyes,
    thinking about his, full of blue sky and triumph. She is constantly
    drinking dreams of fairy tale lovers and
    pink cotton candy-stained lips. She
    sinks into a gritty pit of lost and broken
    links, links that hold nothing and connect no one,
    links that dangle on the
    brink of tomorrow but with nowhere to go. For now, she can only glide across an icy
    rink of sparkly diamond hearts and tears, waiting for him to
    wink his blue sky eyes at her.


    listening never [seems to] hurt

    losing her mind,
    one phantom lover
    at a time.

    nothing is effective or right
    or simple or kind
    [but if you ask she'll tell you she's fine]

    picture frames and blurry faces,
    like broken wings,
    remind her of the empty spaces

    [inside her mind's heart and her heart's soul]
    she's waiting for relief and passion and gold...
    yet feels that happiness, darling, is an unworthy goal--

    a mystery, always elusive and decorous,
    [she searches, journey without end]
    much like his undignified heart, her blossoming lotus.

    she's waiting for him to call her name,
    but can't quite get past the sight
    of his demon eyes; it's her own dangerous game
    that keep her lungs cold and heavy at night.