Getting to Greece

Even as a child, I always knew I wanted to travel. To see the world as all the characters in my books did, to experience life as other cultures do, is something my heart has always pined for. Now, as a University of California Davis student of English Literature, I may finally get to fulfill this dream.

This summer, I have had the opportunity to enroll in a one-month study abroad program in the richly historical Mediterranean country of Greece. During my studies, I will be fulfilling my English major requirements with courses in Greek Literature while witnessing the wonders of this land first hand. I will get to venture to the ancient cities of Athens and Olympia, where modern civilization was conceived, while also being immersed in the culture of modern Greece.

However, money is tight in these hard economic times, and while working two jobs between the UC Davis School of Law and Davis Senior High School, the cost of this once in a lifetime experience is still out of my reach.

That's where you come in. In funding this trip, every little bit helps and I would greatly appreciate any small donation you could give to support my cause and help me fulfill this dream.

Thank you all so much!


With love,
Amber

You can donate here: http://www.greennote.com/student.aspx?id=5
And if you can, please pass this on.

The Spaces Between

Listen to the lone wolf’s howl
The Road is her home,
And her soul,
Scattered across the state.

Her family’s fated path led a direction
She could not follow,
Since the dawn of her birth
She leapt into the life
Of the lonesome road.
Traveling many miles
Across dust and concrete
To feed her addiction for open spaces.

The cactus and tumbleweed
Are her family,
The city signs and overpasses
Are familiar friends,
The showers of rain
Renew her spirit,
And the blankets of endless galaxies
Remind her that she is not alone.

Oasis communities along the way
House families of gypsies and vagabonds like herself,
They play their guitar and banjo, they sing their road-song
‘Round the ancient campfire, with it’s stifling cider smoke
And flaming arms reaching up towards the heavens,
The singer lets out a howl to mother moon;
She is home.

But no sooner has she reached a destination,
Does she flee, off into the night again
For her comfort is not found in each new place,
But in the spaces between.

Lost in the Haze

between the blankets of stars and the city lights, they met and instantly fell hard into the city below. tumbling towards something joyous, a familiar uncertainty they foolishly embraced.

but thinking back on such perfection later, when the distance was miles between, the memories were beginning to fade like old photographs and she was battling time and her flawed head to remember the curves of his face.

driving up the attic hills of her LA mind, searching for solidity amongst the imaginary boxes of discarded thoughts and memories.

perhaps it was all a dream,
something too good to be true
and not meant to last...



her mind was just taunting her now.

The Black Keys

His hands graced the piano keys with a odd and beautiful mixture of that of a child, excitedly playing something for the first time for their mother, and a man, knowing the mystic wooing powers of music. And how could she resist? Though, he did not know that she had already been entranced in his spell for years.

Just as it looked that his fingers might dance into another dimension, another man came on to the scene. He had an evil gleam in his eye and a plan with the girl in mind. He came up behind the pianist and said something like,

“Hey man, that sounds great, but if you want to make it really awesome you should switch keys right here, it would really bring out those last few stanzas.”

…He preceded pick apart the rest of the piece, in an obvious attempt to woo the girl himself. With his longer shaggy hair and intoxicating eyes, perhaps he would have had better luck had he kept his loud mouth shut. But our leading lady would never say such a thing, for fear she’d hurt this new boy; she made a packed years ago to never hurt another boy again, if she could help it. So she indulged the loud-mouthed boy, but the piano man, not knowing of her packed, grew restless and his mind raced through scenes of memories like a train through a dusty old town.

lights, camera, action!

it was then that she realized, she lived her life like theatre play. she would constantly rehearse the lines in her head, the various scenarios, then go out and give a mediocre performance when show time rolled around. it was all so fake; so mundane. life is real, it's here, it's now! she realized that to continue this theatre life would be living a lie; and so, she shook the lines out of her head, like the screen of a child's etch-a-sketch, took in a deep, cool breath and walked out of the building, toward her new life, unrehearsed, unprepared, but filled to the brim with a certain kind of courage that would make mountains waver at her feet.

I became awake.

we all sat out on the patio, around a delicate old table.
we drank our tea, telling the stories of our modern lives, as the great storm clouds tumbled towards us. they didn't notice the changing weather patterns, or the clouds, as they formed a funnel in the sky; but i did. it swayed towards me, moving it's tail in the currents of the wind, and as it stopped above my head, i looked up and, in a brief second, grabbed hold of the cloud. it took me up, up, up, above the friends, past the patio and the house, up in the cloudy sea.

I tremble with the nervous thought.

we were in my parent's room, at the old house. he was mad at my sister, for one reason or another, temper raging. the look of complete fear in her eyes is more than i can bear. i'm not going to let him destroy another child, he can't screw her up too. i forbid it. so in a split second i jump in the way, i take her place. i tell him that i'm not scared of him anymore. his violence isn't doing what twisted good he thinks it is. he hits me, i go down and it begins. years of nightmarish memories rushing through my mind. when it's over i feel so exhausted, but triumphant. my black and blue face doesn't phase me because i've defeated him, his violence, his hate and rage.
then, all i hear is a faint "beep, beep, beeep;" my alarm goes off, and the day begins.

but though i triumphed the erie nightmare, the real world is still brimming with destruction. i see the trucks, on the way to school. the trucks with a thousand tiny prison cells. inside, the feathered innocent who silently wonder what crime they have commited to deserve such a fate. they calmly wait for their slaughter. i weep for them. i weep for me. i weep for the world.

then there are those that do not care. they do not notice their daily zombie walk. the waste piles around them, the world cries out to them, but they are zombies, they do not see what they do. they do not know what they could do, if they only tried. their lack of awareness, lack of empathy, lack of passion, shakes me to the core. i weep for them. i weep for me. i weep for the world.

but i see the few, with the gleam of life in their eye. they fight with all that is within them, with their very being, to wake the zombies from their slumber, to save the dying world. they put their own lives aside. they know the odds, and still press on, with the strength of a thousand years, in the name of love, peace and compassion. i see them and know there lies hope, and i know it will be alright. love will make it through the night with the help of these few dreamers, and their guiding light.