pace...

I really liked Pace, but if I play vball I have to go to the campus in Pleasantville..hahaha!!

I'm still looking at Simmons(all womens)=boston
Wheelock(really small)=boston
Hunter(small amount of housing)=nyc
St. Rose=albany

I had to get this out

Like the coming and going of the oceans tide I shall never cease my life adventures and excursions of happiness. Time rushes forward no matter what slows down on mother earth; aside from everything else I am forever constantly loving, moving, and changing. The moonflowers close at the first sight of the rising sun, mirroring my heart as it explodes like the wick of a roman candle being blown out. Just before I succumb to the never ending dreams of family TV dinners and bells ringing, I think of another roman candle living in flame and being blown out just at the same exact moment.
Look here big sister, no matter what comes and goes, I always try to avoid all the losses, and trouble by choosing my independence over our love. I close my eyes at night with pride for freedom, stability, and blissfulness. Recently, I can’t walk by spotted plates without pausing; wet grass gives me goosebumps, I refuse to sleep anywhere but against a wall or clutching a pillow underneath my left arm upon my loveseat in hopes of never experiencing loneliness again, even in my dreams.
Your philosophies have been clumsily poured out in my hands; daring secrets, and soiled hatred covered my face, and your unstable dreams filled my chest. I gasped for air just as we met; however, recovery hasn’t been prolonged but has been short and painless. Thus resulting in an eventual overthrow of a vast embodiment of my heart felt anxiety, and the nervousness I never wanted to accept. I practiced what to say to you just to make sure the words all came out right. Until I realized all is beautiful to you. There was simply no need to rhyme, or use patterns to touch you, but you tremble with words of truth, and trust.
I envision pure love, and gleeful girl sentiment, I imagine shooting stars and wishing on all the trite powers of the world. I want to run through each raindrop jumping carelessly off bridges, and blowing out birthday candles together. All the things best friends do, all the things I secretly have wanted, but couldn’t do without you.
At six years old, I didn’t imagine a white wedding, or twirling around in my prom dress. I toyed with the idea of a friend. I would sit and create every aspect I wanted. I pulled my friends from story books, for I knew they could never talk back, hurt, or disappoint me. In my heart I ran through corn fields chasing all my friends but to a horrible realization-I couldn’t find a single true body. Come to find out, I never ran through a corn field, but I created a story book picture with a violinist playing a sad toon that no one could hear but me. I danced softy stepping on every crack, and laughing at my room with all its unfinished pieces of artwork. I never could choose the colors of which portraits looked best in; my hand trembled if anyone wanted to help.
Until one day where I chanced into meeting someone real. One day as the sun glistened off my iced over heart, and my arm hung limply from an imaginary sling of frustration I ran into another one of life’s actresses unable to act with a broken arm. For sure she was just faking or pretending to like me. I wouldn’t get close enough to receive a fast blow that may take me out of the upcoming auditions for feelings. I waited for the next full moon, until approaching her any closer. The air was still, and our eyes didn’t falter ever with the absence of freedom. A rope fell to the ground between our two small feet where together we reached down never faltered while together. We each wrapped a small hand around ends and together the days seemed to fly by endless producing bliss.
People spoke in such quiet voices and turned their heads against our small bodies presence day by day, the rope of secrets and dreams grew shorter with each closing moonflower, and each storybook page that is turned. The girls locked eyes, feeling the crowds around then mean nothing but the closeness and hope of love for each other.
A small yellow bird always flew near singing songs of complication, and confusion. In turn, together we took flight to disprove everything said, everything mustered in thought and everything against us!
Despite the pouring rain, the difference in dreams, hopes, family, and toothpaste flavor despite each hour separating us we each still tightly grasped our end of the feeble arm, holding hands lovingly and comfortably never wanting another day apart. Radiating from one another same fears, loves, hopes, wants, dreams, and spirit we both become the same, and happy.
I tried begging you not to fall in love with me, and I tried to block each sweet word. However, t he change of dark clouds to shining rays never ceased despite my false cries of infliction. For they were nothing but fake and I only wanted to save you from the world of hate, and to guide your happiness with handshakes and hugs. My voice changed, and my hands no longer trembled throughout the day. I was able to shoot my bow straight, as I could see more clearly and I knew exactly what colors fit best in all my paintings. My finished art work was hung with care in your heart as I keep sake no matter what fails, or what changes. We’ll always clutch our ends of the rope despite if it uncoils, and we’ll still have our ends…I’ll be sure to practice my sailing knots to tie our ends back together and string new beads of our dreams, hopes, and friendship across in colors of joy. Forevermore my love, I stand here at the beginning of life’s track. The gun has been blown and the timer awaits our laps to the finish line we’ll be perfect and have the best time; together.

jeez

Paul and I become more alike by the day. I remember last year when he found a note in his locker reading "stop following your sisters footsteps" and it related to so many different things.

Last night at the wedding, he leans over to me and says "Danielle, I was just thinking about tonight. There is going to be so much food wasted, and all I can think about is how we are wasting it, and p eople in third world countries don't have a pot to piss in."

When Paul and I were little, we would spend a large amount of time with my Aunt Sharon in Boston. At night we would walk through the town, and along with seeing many street performers, there would also be many homeless sitting on the street with signs, sleep, or asking for change. Paul always asked why they were doing it, and he would cry because he couldn't help them.

Paul has grown up so much, I was afarid to leave for college, but I know that he will always talk to me, even if he has to ask for help, and he'll be fine when it is necessary to stay away from my mother.

Time flys when you're having fun.