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Aimey_K_Weaver
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Name: Aimey Katrina
Country: United States
State: Tennessee
Metro: Johnson City
Birthday: 4/23/1985
Gender: Female
Interests: serving the Lord with all that I am; people;music (I love it...without it, I don't know what I'd do) ; playin' my trumpet; reading; sleeping; playin' softball, pool, basketball, air hockey; watchin' college and pro football; Starbucks;rollerblading;swimming; bowling; hanging out with friends;spending time with family;volunteering; did I already mention music? and a good book? ok...just thought I'd keep you informed....
Expertise: I love helping people in need....I love to listen and observe, analyzing the surface and the depths of anything and anyone.....psychology/sociology is my field and occupation I am pursuing.
Occupation: Student
Industry: Medical
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  AimesTN03
Member Since:
2/17/2004
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Saw the world turning in my sheets and once again I cannot sleep.
Walk out the door and up the street; look at the stars beneath my feet.
Remember rights that I did wrong, so here I go.
Hello, hello. There is no place I cannot go.
My mind is muddy but my heart is heavy. Does it show?
I lose the track that loses me, so here I go.
And so I sent some men to fight, and one came back at dead of night.
Said he'd seen my enemy. Said he looked just like me,
So I set out to cut myself and here I go.
I'm not calling for a second chance,
I'm screaming at the top of my voice.
Give me reason but don't give me choice.
'Cause I'll just make the same mistake again.
And maybe someday we will meet, and maybe talk and not just speak.
Don't buy the promises 'cause, there are no promises I keep.
And my reflection troubles me, so here I go.
I'm not calling for a second chance,
I'm screaming at the top of my voice.
Give me reason but don't give me choice.
'Cause I'll just make the same mistake,
I'm not calling for a second chance,
I'm screaming at the top of my voice.
Give me reason but don't give me choice.
'Cause I'll just make the same mistake again.
Saw the world turning in my sheets and once again I cannot sleep.
Walk out the door and up the street; look at the stars.
Look at the stars fall down.
And wonder where did I go wrong.
In life, there are no magic lamps. Unless you're a terminally ill child in the last days of your life, there are no three wishes. There's no mysteriously omniscient genie, imploring you to request anything your little heart desires. There's no magic carpet you glide into the dusky, desert sunset on.
There's just you.....in a tumultuous world full of muck and mockery, hellbent on your downfall. Waiting for you to screw up and be left for dead. They settle comfortably on the branches of their post like eager vultures, waiting for the meager scraps you leave behind. As you walk along the very narrow path (because, of course, the path is the proverbial, textbook, narrow path), you spot the vultures, and stop dead in your tracks. Do you take a couple steps toward them....enticing them to begin their death circle flight around you? Or do look them straight the eye....staring them down....daring them to count you out?
Daring them to think that, for a second, you have given up your fight and want to be left for dead?
Daring them to devour what's left of you for their dinner?
Do you dare?
Do you??
Hmm....
I mean, this is an extremely graphic, depressing story comparing your life and the negative, uncaring people in it to an unfair fight with hungry vultures waiting in a tree. Where's the silver lining, for God's sake??
Imagine, if you will, that you are a beefy, sweaty guy with an ax. You're a healthy, Brawny-commerical lumberjack in need of some seriously woody timber for your lumberyard. After your search for lumber down the path, your eyes lock on the green, beautiful tree in the somewhat dense clearing with the vultures on some of branches. First of all, why would vultures be lurking on such a beautiful tree in the forest instead of a barren wasteland somewhere? And what's a experienced lumberjack to do with that ax to that tree and those vultures?
With head tilted slightly downward and the sweat of determination running down your temple, you swiftly proceed to chop at that tree, giving it hell, earth, and all the mustard you've got. It falls down to the ground, you tie a chain around it, and pull it on to the sawmill with the rest of your newly acquired lumber. Oh, yeah, and the vultures?? Well, seeing as you didn't give two rats about their existance and you weren't a defenseless sitting piece of decaying goose flesh that they could munch on, they flew away with a speedy exit fitting of a pack of desperate scavengers.
Oh, yeah and the sweaty, beefy, persistent guy wielding the ax??
There's your silver lining.
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I might be wrong
I might be wrong
I could've sworn I saw a light coming on
I used to think
I used to think
There was no future left at all
I used to think
Open up, begin again
Let's go down the waterfall
Think about the good times and never the bad
Never the bad
What would I do?
What would I do?
If I did not have you
Open up and let me in
Let's go down the waterfall
Have ourselves a good time, it's nothing at all
It's nothing at all
Nothing at all
Never look back
Never look back
Ahhh.....yes, I am here again.
Older.
Wiser.
A few more gray hairs in my head.
But still taking on the world...or is the world taking me?
Nahh....that's a silly notion.
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Hearts are worn in these dark ages
You're not alone in this story's pages
The night has fallen amongst the living and the dying
And I'll try to hold it in
Yeah I'll try to hold it in
[Chorus:]
The world's on fire
It's more than I can handle
Tap into the water, try to bring my share
Try to bring more, more than I can handle
Bring it to the table
Bring what I am able
I watch the heavens but I find no calling
Something I can do to change what's coming
Stay close to me while the sky is falling
Don't wanna be left alone
Don't wanna be alone
[Chorus]
Hearts break
Hearts mend
Love still hurts
Visions clash
Planes crash
Still there's talk of
Saving souls
Still the cold's
Closing in on us
We part the veil on our killing sun
Stray from the straight line on this short run
The more we take, the less we become
The fortune of one man means less for some
I've contemplated not writing in this anymore, not because I don't need a journal to write in....because I do....and not because I don't have time to write in it, because I do sometimes. There is a simplicity of concept in why I am writing in my Xanga blog for the last time.
I've had this blog for 3 years, recording everything from my dreams to my close encounters with some truly unique individuals to dating to my crazy, college antics to my leaps onto my loud, opinionated soapbox. I've chronicled some pretty monumental events in my life, like the death of my best friend's father, considerable setbacks, personal triumphs, moving away from N.C. to Johnson City, getting the job at Broadmore, and various other things that I care not to mention here. Painfully and helpfully cathartic is what this blog has been for me....aiding in the expulsion and explanation of my wild theories, crazy thoughts, and confusing feelings. I've grown immensely over the years, and as such, know when it's time to move on. I thought, for a moment, to put "Goodbye, My Lover" by James Blunt as my song of choice above, but that seemed a little too dramatic and, with the exception of the title, not exactly fitting. It has seemed to me, quite a bit, that Sarah McLachlan's songs speak to me more than any other artist's has. It's only fitting that she close it out.....with a little help from Winston Churchhill and me. It is now time for progression....and change.
Hmm....an alternate definition for the word "cathartic" is "evacuating of bowels" or "laxative".......maybe Xanga could be a brand name of laxatives.
“This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.” -Winston Churchhill
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I got my finger on the trigger
But I don't know who to trust
When I look into your eyes
There's just devils and dust
We're a long, long way from home, Bobbie
Home's a long, long way from us
I feel a dirty wind blowing
Devils and dust
I got God on my side
And I'm just trying to survive
What if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love
Fear's a powerful thing, baby
It can turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God filled soul
And fill it with devils and dust
Well I dreamed of you last night
In a field of blood and stone
The blood began to dry
The smell began to rise
Well I dreamed of you last night, Bobbie
In a field of mud and bone
Your blood began to dry
And the smell began to rise
We've got God on our side
We're just trying to survive
What if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love
Fear's a powerful thing, baby
It'll turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust
It'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust
[Harmonica solo]
Now every woman and every man
They wanna take a righteous stand
Find the love that God wills
And the faith that He commands
I've got my finger on the trigger
And tonight faith just ain't enough
When I look inside my heart
There's just devils and dust
Well I've got God on my side
And I'm just trying to survive
What if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love
Fear's a dangerous thing
It can turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust
Yeah it'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust
[Harmonica solo]
Wow, the clanking, creaking, chug-chug sound of the train is deafening, given the distance to which I'm away from it. Hmmm.....an overly obvious observation, in my opinion. Jeez', Aimes...you can do better.....
I find myself to be more of a storyteller than a poet, so I leave the poetry writing to those better suited for the job. Thanks for the poem, Cindie.....I'll write your story someday:)
The words I write are but my daily inspiration.
A pouring forth of all the emotion of my soul,
and the excesses of my heart's desires,
Swelling from an endless dark pit---
Songs, written without music...
Bittersweet melodies played on
in the depths of my being.
At times cold and unfeeling;
At times warm and passionate;
Wanting nothing and everything.
Asking only to give all
that is mine to bestow.
To befriend and be befriended;
To love and be beloved.
The lyrics flow on freely
as the words fall,
effortlessly,
from the pen to the paper.
The notes never being heard---
only expressed through songs;
Songs that haunt my brain,
day after day,
and night after night.
Songs that set my soul on fire,
aflame with passionate longing.
Yearning for that which I cannot have;
Reaching out for that which I cannot touch.
I strive to express the fiery passion
of my heart's desires.
Asking nothing and everything---
Asking in the song that bleeds my life of it's vitality,
but gives me strength to face the
dawn of each new day;
Weakens my knees,
but helps me stand strong;
Drives my soul to the very
edge of madness and despair,
and then gives me hope
to keep my sanity.
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It's late and I'm feeling so tired
Having trouble sleeping.
This constant compromise
Between thinking and breathing.
Could it be I'm suffering
Because I'm never give in?
Won't say that I'm falling in love
Tell me I don't seem myself
Couldn't I blame something else?
Just don't say I'm falling in love
Some kind of therapy
Is all I need
Please believe me
Some instant remedy
That can cure me completely
Could it be that I'm suffering
Because I'll never give in?
Won't say that I'm falling in love
Tell me I don't seem myself
Couldn't I blame something else?
Just don't say I'm falling in love
'cause I've been there before and it's not enough
So nobody say it
Don't even say it
I ve got my eyes shut
Won't look, oh
No, I'm not in love
Could it be I'm suffering
Because I'll never give in?
I'm falling love
Tell me I don't seem myself good enough for something else
Just don't say I'm falling in love
Falling in love
Just don't say I'm falling in love
Oh, yeah
Falling love ooh
Oh, oh, don't say that I'm falling in love, don't say that, oh
Just don't say that I'm falling in love, yeah
Just don't say that I'm falling in love
Don't say but in the answer
'Cause I'll never give in
Oh
Falling in love
Yeah
Oh
From October to December.....
from Halloween to Christmas.....
from energized tenacity to stubborn, unwilling fatigue....
In the midst of finals week, the typical college student likens sleep to that grade school best friend who moved to Montana halfway through the year and coffee to the always auspicious, choleric amigo who kept you up during an all-night study session spinning tales of pure craziness and ink-jet printer throwing.
Yes....I typed the words "ink-jet printer throwing"....and I meant to. You know you've reached the climax of the erratically random and stressful event known as "Finals Week" when you witness a group of college kids hurl an Hp laser ink-jet printer from 4 stories up. It's kinda a "much better if you were actually there" sort of thing.
Although, the clarity of the situation becomes more evident when you grasp that printer in your hands for a splinter, not a split because splinters are much smaller, of a second before you aid the other caffeine-consumed, boredom-embraced young adults in the vanquishing of computerized evil.
With the resounding crash of the machine on the grassy earth comes the deep, cavernous silence that often accompanies pathetic acts of pure stupidity and 3:37 am. Amongst the humming silence and the throng of, what looks like, mutinous, rebellious pirates turned university students, I came to a powerful, enlightening realization.
Why didn't we drop it from the 5th story instead of the 4th??
Oh, yeah.....and if life were a tree and relationships, i.e. intimate, " I have a hot and spicy lover" types, were the branches, how would we, as....say....cute and cuddly woodland creatures who typically climb the best branches in search of the best resources, know which branch to climb?? Will we climb the sturdy, rough branch covered in leafy greens?? Or will we rest our bushing tails on the thinner, smoother, swinging branch that is a popular choice among the adrenline-filled, thrill-seeking flying squirrals??
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