Thursday, April 30, 2015

not for the books

Performed at Speak For Yourself:

Not for the Books

Welcome to school!
Day one:
Halls riddled with talk of summer vacation
and the smell of brand new clothes.
Winter crept in and we were halfway done
99 football jerseys,
12 bad breakups,
2 english classes later,
we are on the home stretch.
In 35 days we will be far from here.
And it won't be long before even the echoes of my name disappear.
Tomorrow I'll be gone
and soon after, forgotten.
The hallways will no longer carry the weight of my footsteps.
The mirrors will not remember my reflection.
My name will be stripped from the honor roll to make room for next year's
and soon after,
we will be forgotten.
I don't care to be remembered.
This is not for any legacy I want to leave.
I'm not trying to make you shout my name to the sky or write it in the stars.
This is not because I never made it to the front row of the student section,
and this is not because I've had my heart broken.
Twice.
Three times.
I'll be the first to admit, I am not a legacy leaver.
I didn't come expecting to change Lone Peak forever,
but I've got a few things to say.
I think we're all waiting for someone to read in between the lines.
"How are you?" is still waiting for a response other than "good".
So I'll try-- I'll try-- to be the person that makes everyone erase their fine print.
Lets pick up the small talk and throw it out the window.
Shatter every glass wall put up by high schoolers who feel small.
Show each other that bridges are meant to be walked on.
Not burned.
That you, and me, and he will never be the same.
But we were never meant to be.
So hold up your white flag
and surrender your heart,
to show people you have one.
And just because the knight in the commons can't call you by name,

there's more to this story than that.

xx Sonny Jean and Avery Moon



(AKA Ruby and Whitney Porter)

Sunday, April 26, 2015

so mine won't stop beating


There's a stream of young love crawling through my brain cells and this is a parasitic relationship. It feeds off me and I just get sicker, see, my instagram feed is starving my heart. But I stare. I scroll. I stare. I scroll. I starve, and there's not enough soul to pass around the table so I spoon it into the mouth of those I love, because I know what it's like not to feel that. I sit hunched like a bow and arrow, done being pulled back, hoping to fly soon. And maybe this time Cupid will have something to do with it. But my spine is close to snapping and so is my heart.

So I hear that if two hearts are pressed together for long enough they pulse together, so maybe you will let mine catch up with yours. Then we can talk about more than the weather, like how your family is and what I missed when we were apart. But your guard is so high and I haven't even passed the bridge over the moat filled with words we never said. Saying them is one thing and thinking them is another. You never did either of those and I was always the one who gave it my all so you didn't have to. We're dipping our toes in quick sand and heaven knows we won't end up in the same world when we sink. You're on one page and I'm on another and we aren't even in the same library, darling.

 But that never stopped me from trying. Trying til my bones burst with love for your eyes, clearer than the rarest diamond. Your hands more tender than rain drizzling on hot shoulders. There aren't many things that turn me cold but late night strolls with you are one and I don't think it was the moon blowing chills down my neck. I told you I loved you. I sat like a puddle at your feet, waiting for you to finger paint your skin with my pigment and revel in how beautiful we were together, but no. You put on your rain boots and splashed my pain all over the concrete. You were simply having fun on a rainy day. Childish was your game and guys have always been better at sports. My hand-eye coordination has never been sensational, but I'm good enough to catch a hint. Not strong enough to follow it. See it's hard to convince the brain that this is just friends, because "just friends" have never stared at each other that long and "just friends" don't feel adrenaline when their noses are close enough to touch but just shy enough not to. So sorry for misplacing the hint you dropped.

 But this time is different. I'm taking this, along with every song about someone else, every Sunday night, every meal that was never a date, and keeping that in its place-- the past. We can move forward together, but this time not hand in hand. Love has no boundaries but sometimes there are war zones that scream Do Not Enter and now we know where those lie: In each vein and artery of those who feel love as unrequited; who grow anxious over the long stream of boys and girls in love, wondering if that will ever be them. So let my heart grow close to yours, and this time it's only so mine won't stop beating.

xx Sonny Jean






Tuesday, April 21, 2015

I remember...

I remember Spring Break 2k15 and not writing one blog post.
I remember the dream I had last night. My 52-year-old mom was pregnant
I remember wishing I could smash every mirror I looked into.
I remember when Lil Wayne was my hero and I was thirteen-year-old thug
I remember family reunions on the beach. Now everyone is a little too busy to get buried in the sand.
I remember begging mom for a small dog. I had saved an entire $100.
I remember my first B. Calculus last quarter.
I remember when dad and mom sat the kids down. Dad was crying and petting the dog like it would be the last time.  
I remember the time I told my mom she seemed to have grown a mustache. She replied with a passive aggressive "Well isn't that swell, Ruby."
I remember swimsuit shopping and how much I still hate it. 
I remember getting pinkeye and looking like an alien when I woke. My eyes have never felt the same.
I remember my second day at Lone Peak High School. I never really grew fond of B-days after all.
I remember watching Full House and mom walking in on a sexy part. "It's not usually like this, I swear!"
I remember my first kiss. We had just swapped silly bands and I had on my fave Bob Marley tee.
I remember when I dropped my baby sister. I blame the babysitter. I had roller blades on, hello!
I remember dating a loser. He still is one, even more so. 
I remember the Nintendo 64 and GameCube. Straight G.
I remember when my big sister ran away with a pack of cigs and a small green backpack. She always had the essentials ready to go: black makeup and a fresh pair o' undies. (a rain poncho too, duh)
I remember inadequacy.
I remember devastation.
I remember wishing I could have Tina Fey's humor and Kylie Jenners' lips. Still do (duh).
I remember being pissed that he held hand with another chick. Not cool, dude. I wish I'd just forget it.
I remember being in the friendzone (yay! ain't it fun?)
I remember each time someone didn't give me the time of day because of my appearance. It never occurred to me people could be that shallow until I came to good ole LP. We notice, people. (i still love LP,and you k, whatever.)
I remember cheering on the Ragnar runners at 3 in the morning.
I remember drill team, 6 am practices, ugly AF wigs, and never winning first place.
I remember running cross country and always winning last place!
I remember taking first in the 100 free in my heat. Girls swim took state that year. 
I remember when my pet snake bit me. I felt like Kissin' Kate Barlow off of Holes, when she lets the yellow spotted lizards devour her.
I remember screaming and crying when I discovered Terik had left. I remember finding out how he did it.
I remember the fear of forgetting my life and what has happened. How much does it all really matter?


I wish I remembered more.



Sunday, March 29, 2015

Say hello

On Mondays I get cash flow for practicing the art of Burrito Wrapping.
Tuesdays are for thinking caps and Calculus.
Wednesdays I bowling with Priests or cut out hearts with Beehives.
Thursdays are for giving dad bear hugs and watching Cops.
Fridays are for flickering candles and the acoustic guitar.
Saturday- anything and everything goes.
Sundays I wear my heart on my sleeve and take notes. Sundays are for snuggling. Sundays are for homework due Monday. Sundays are for bloggin' and farewells and pulled pork sandwiches. 

I'm just a small town girl, livin' in a lonel--

Who are you?

Sister of 7.
Step of 2.
My thoughts are hurricanes and I landed at Lone Peak 7 months ago.
This place is a different planet and I came from Pluto: the one that doesn't count.
There's more oxygen here but less heart.

You know me as Sonny Jean.
I love the sun and the stars.
I love rodeos once a year and churros from Disneyland.
I love my mum and my dad.
I love Grandma Sonny
and Bonnie Jean.

Say goodbye to Sonny Jean.
Say hello to the real me.
Say hi to

xx

Ruby Josephine Skagerberg.




Sunday, March 22, 2015

BLIND

To try something new, I'm going to write this post with my eyes shut.
Currently, I have a Christmas themed pillowcase on my head.
I'm inside of a Christmas pillowcase with squeaky rodents like mice and squirrels on it.
They're my only company along with the voices inside my head.

My stepmom just asked me what I was doing, So i forgot where I left off.

i vow to not look until the end and make no changes. this is ironic bc I'm adding this after I finished. But really I didn't change anything. or look.

Trying something new.

You're welcome Nelson.
I'm in a pillowcase.

I am blind.

Recent events have brought me to pponder my life if I was, indeed, blind.
If I was blind,
my children would be black as night
and my husband would be too, which I wouldn'tbe upset over. ;) (smiley face)... did I hit the parenthes?

If i was blind, I would read braille, a skill thatis rare and exotic.

If i was blind, I would feel all my other senses more intensely. I thnik we could all use a little more feeling in our hearts. Especially me.

If I was blind I would eat food by how it tastes, not the way it looks. Also, maybe I would eat only until I was full and I'd lose some weight.
\
 I lost my train of thought. Thanks, Little Sister.

If I was blind, I wouldn't judge a book by it's cover.I would never judge a book by it's cover. I would judege it for the way it made me feel, what it taught me, the r rhythm of words that sink into my mind and into my heart. I would feel those words more intesely too.

I  would never no the injustice of judging another human being by their cover.

I've been the recipient of that far too many times and it would be nice tostop passing it along. No wonder blind people are more compassionate.

If I was blind, I wouldn't see how wlong her lipstick stays on, or how chiseled hismuscles are when he's "not flexing". I wouldn't have to compare myself to the girl next door, because I've always felt a little bit less than her. I wouldn't behold the glow of her tan, fresh from the Virgin Islands.

I would see how she speaks of others so generously, giving them every benefit of every doubt.

I would

Another

"why do you have a thing over your head?"


I wowould feel his his ribcage expanding and contractingas he whispers "i love you" into my ear.

I wouldhear the smart thingsshe has to say in class, not the way she looks while saying them.

I would see the things that matter.
I wouldn't be blind to the aesthetics of their soul. To the Flawlessness of their laugh.

I would behold the world through different eyes.

A set of eyes that few people on this earth get to experience.



Feel more. Do mmore.
Be blind to things that don't matter.
Don't be blind to the things that will matter when we are all old, grey, ugly, and some, literally blind.
Hm. I might keep this pillowcase on permanently. It's not too bad under here (minusall the COtwo up in here

Walkahalfmileinsomeoneelsesshoes

xx
Sonny Jean

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Fluid Feelings

And my mom is laying beside me
Worried about fixing the problem,
but as soon as she walks away,
I tremble.
It's mostly my torso quivering.
Shivering.
Trying to cage my feelings
where they belong:
in my gut.
But fluid feelings still leak
in the form of salt water
stinging my eyes
puffing them up like red balloons
in the summer.
I pull the covers over my head,
because what's coming out of my eyes
is infectious
and contagious.
One set of stinging eyes
is enough.
My heart is more sensitive than my eyes.
And these feelings erode
my eyes,
my brain,
my heart.
Erode.
Erode.
Eroding my heart.

THINGS I WANT TO DO


  • Climb a HUGE rock
  • Write a song I'm proud of
  • Throw a pie in somebody's face
  • Drink 8 oz of water/day
  • Find my happiness
  • Actually finish a book series 
  • Write more letters
  • Move out
  • Be nice to my brothers
  • Eat good food
  • Be fancy and paint my nails
  • Learn the difference between Republican and Democrat
  • Fall in love
  • Fall in love with myself
  • Grow my hair out
  • Pay someone to clean my room
  • Recieve an allowance
  • Spell Receive right the first time
  • Buy the first ticket outta here
  • Go to college
  • Pass the AP Calculus test
  • Get more sleep
  • Kiss
  • Graduate college
  • Get more sleep
  • Graduate high school
  • Belly laugh
  • Stay up late
  • Be the early bird
  • Stand out
  • Be important
  • Get paper
  • Charge my phone
  • BECOME A FAMOUS RAPPER
  • Do unto others as I would have them do unto me
  • Love my neighbor
  • Do my blogs on time