My story’s seldom told

For I am just a poor boy

Wandering the bitter streets I call my home

With a pocket full of lies

And many a good man’s pay

I tramp with a heavy heart

Never knowing a home or family,

I was born and raised in the gutter

Where only the filth and flagitious flourish

Lying low, running where the wind takes me

I ride the steel horses of the night

The winter’s chill cuts through me

And my tattered clothes

But the fire in my heart keeps the bite away

Though wishing I had a home to go to,

Trafalgar square should welcome me with open arms

I took some comfort there

A young chap looking only for some honest pay

Is stuck, and chastised and sent on his way

For people do not trust

What is so easily cast away

And they only hear what they want to

Thus, is the nature of all living

And in the evening’s light,

A marvel, what a sight

The good comfort of a warm meal,

The promise of shelter

If only for a night

Still, ‘tis enough for the rekindling of spirits

And the triumph of the fight

jhnmyr:

Having a point to make doesn’t always mean having to make the point.

Been sick this past week. Haven’t done anything but mope around the house. i should have probably been doing work. My future depends on it. Oh well. Don’t think I’ll be using this tumblr anymore. It’s a nice outlet, but what does that have to do with anything if no one’s receiving it. 

Blah, Blah, Blah..It’s so funny, I have so many followers on my regular account, that the difference in the two tumblrs when I log in to this one gives me a twang of jealousy. Why doesn’t this account have as many people that like it? Then I remember that I haven’t told anyone about it, and all I ever do it write weird paragraphs. And I mean, who follows people just to read their personal blogs? (note the sarcasm there) 

The Vancouver Art Gallery

Anywho.. I was going through old pictures on my phone, and I came across one from the Olympics in Vancouver last year. First off, I can’t even believe that they happened last year. It honestly only feels like it’s been a couple of months. Secondly, the unification of the people living in the lower mainland was incredible: there was so much nationalism, and people coming together to celebrate Canada. It was wonderful. Going downtown, I remember feeling so proud to be Canadian. I remember sharing that pride with everyone around me. I mean imagine a whole city, putting aside any differences; hate, inequality, any ignorance, and just coming together and celebrating themselves, and their pride, and their country. It’s sad to say, but I don’t think I will ever experience anything like this again, and I see now, how blessed I am to have done so, and how blessed Vancouver itself is, for being chosen to host the 2010 winter Olympics. I only wish I could have held on to that feeling of unity for a little longer.

The dock holding a few colourful houseboats, as well as some regular customers.

Downtown, Robson square

Just writing this little tidbit from my neighbour’s computer. I am looking after her kids for a couple of hours. As of right now, they have convinced me to play Candyland, Clue Jr., and Donkey Kong on the Wii (even thought I have a book report to be finishing up, and a biology test to be studying for). I’ve forgotten how much fun kids have just..playing. No need for social media. No twitter, facebook, tumblr, myspace, youtube. And yet, here we are, functioning members of society who probably couldn’t go one day without checking our emails, making some ridiculous update on how we’re drinking the best water ever, or looking at the messy weekend some people had on facebook. All these kids have are their imagination, a good book, or god-forbid a video game. I really miss the simplicity of being a kid.

Today I messaged an old friend on facebook. I believe we haven’t had a real conversation in years, but she was writing these amazing notes that kept popping up in my news feed, and curiosity got the best of me. She has this amazing, captivating style of writing. One where she draws the reader in without laying out any false pretenses. She just lays it out as it is. No bullshit. No cutting corners. Pretty damn great if I say so myself. The girl lives in Vancouver and got accepted to the University of Hamburg! That’s beyond spectacular. (Would you look at that, as I am writing this, she messaged me back, telling me that I had made her week with that message. It’s funny how a little gesture can do so much.) She will go far in life, I am sure of that.

Happy Valentines Day! I felt like I was back in elementary school while filling these out.

Grad. Who knew that one word could be so overwhelming? Last year, I just shrugged it off, even embraced it at points. Now a year later I am dreading it. All of these expectations I feel I have to live up to are just smothering me. This pressure to be perfect, to do more than I know I am capable of is slowly creeping up on me. It’s on my mind at all times: to be perfect. The fears of failing, or disappointing the ones that care about me scare the shit out of me. That’s one worry I’ve alway had, even as a little kid; I always worried I was doing something wrong. I guess that’s because the consequences of doing something wrong haunted me. But I feel like a horrible person because I promised to my parents, my grandparents, people who all care about me, that I would be the best I could be this year. And I feel like I’m not living up to their expectations. I feel like a failure. There’s so many things I want to do with my life. There’s so many requirements for those things. Exceptional marks, outstanding community work: All things that I feel I have not achieved. How am I going to go to school without a scholarship? It’s all so overwhelming. I want it to get easier, but I know that’s all wishful thinking. Real life is much harder.

Wondering how to start off this blog; I mean, I don’t really know what it is. Maybe an online journal, maybe I’ll post things that I think are too personal for my other blogs. We’ll see. But as of now, I am kalinako, and I have a lot of thoughts that want to be shared.