Shanna Thomson 1982-2002

A Sonnet -- For Shanna

By: Ryan Sumner

I lie along the ground and stare upon
A simple face unlike the one I know.
With fixed expression and warm feeling gone
Once fresh skin – gray, no more a pinkish glow.

Those eyes which lack a twinkling shine so true
Return my solemn gaze though etched in black.
Sun shining hair I run my fingers through
To find ashen strands, a soft-silky lack.

Lying near I utter soft cries in vain
To embrace memories yet solely see
That dark, frigid sketch - your only remain.
Here no life, no body, nor flesh will be.

By leaving you now, I feel so alone
seeing your face upon this cold tombstone.

So, the BEST thing ever happened today. I had interviewed last week for an amazing career opportunity with Pearson Educational Measurement -- a major academic test and textbook corporation - in which they were seeking a writer and proposal consultant for their company, along with the University of Iowa. Today, I received a phone call at the crack of dawn in which they offered me the position I was interviewing for and a FAT salary. I, of course, accepted and put in my two weeks notice at Pacific Sunwear. My boss there is FREAKING out that I'm leaving, but honestly - I'll be making more money than I know what to do with at the new job. Hm, what should I do? Duh. Kiss my ass, Coral Ridge Mall. Basically, I'm rich.

(This is not about my own father. Rather, it's a vision of something I've seen before.)


Thinking of You, Dad
By: Ryan Sumner

The mattress deepens and molds to a stagnant body.
Two limp pillows lie beneath an airy, thoughtless brain.
Legs outstretched, apart; unmoving, unable.
Rubber wheels spin, twist - shake.
Breathe.

Eyes fixed upon the cheap drop ceiling.
No left, no right, a straight focused stare.
The stories, the images - the memories within,
will remain within, remain untold, unappreciated.
Sleep, eyes awake.
Breathe.

Jesus hangs above the bed, looking down with poorly painted eyes.
His bleeding body as motionless as the one below.
A television utters the only noise,
Lucy’s mischief goes unnoticed, her beauty unseen.
A blurry screen rarely viewed.
Breathe.

Lights, fluorescence, flicker over humming machines.
Pale blinds hang, refusing, restricting a ray’s warmth.
A hallway draft refreshes the smell of urine from his nose, while
crisp oxygen pours into his lungs through pathetic, plastic tubes.
Crucial beats linger; uncaring, undetected.
Breathe.

Folded paper stands tall - an angel, a cloud
“Thinking of you, Dad” signed, Truly Yours.
Three months of loneliness resolved with a card.
The ink, the words, the thoughts unread.
Heart beats. Heart pauses.

Heart stops.

So, during my wonderful day at Pacific Sunwear, out of nowhere I encounter this ---------------------->

For the first time in my life, I feared for my safety at the hands of a drunk, psychotic shopper trying to make a fraudulent return. "Uh, Security...come here now."

Please, GOD OF MINE, please help me get the job I'm interviewing for at the University. PLEASE. No more mall. Please.

Sooo, it's 2:26 a.m. and I am going to watch Sister Act II from video-on-demand. How do you feel about this? For me, it feels like I'm living on the wild side. I mean, it's almost 3 a.m. and I get nervous if I'm up past 1 a.m. Uh, WILD. And Sister Act II?...ca-razy. Don't be jealous.

I have a college degree. Will I ever realize this? I just paid a hideous student loan payment. Did I even flinch? I tucked away four years of college for this exact moment in life. What the fuck is my problem?

Following this link will explain why I refuse to walk alone after 9 pm. It also explains why I can't sleep at night.

http://www.snopes.com/photos/people/peppers.asp

Not my finest hour. I'm working on it. (and yes, that's a beer bottle sticker on my crotch, *thanks friends*)

So far, the 23rd year has proven to be quite lackluster. Nothing good happens at 23. There's no respect for a 23 year old. There's no incentive, no surprise, no reward -- nothing. Nothing at all. Or worse, I could be 22. Thank God I got past that age -- it's even worse. The build-up to one's 21st birthday is, usually, an unforgettable experience. Once you're 21, you think life is a better place, or that you're a different person. Right. The span between 21 - 28 is only heightened by being legally allowed to consume alcohol, rent a car, receive lower insurance rates...and wow, many other exciting and rewarding privileges. Now, when you hit 29, things start to get scary. You're almost 30. Now a 30 year old is going to look back on their 20's and get nostalgic as if it was the best time of their life, even though all the years run together, really, and it's almost impossible to associate great events, great stories with an age. I remember that I was completely wasted on my 21st birthday. How special. Moving on, I couldn't even tell you what I did, or what happened when I was 22, and if I could, it's only because I can say "Oh yeah, that happened last year." Real cool. I'm going to do something this year to mark my 23rd year of life as something more memorable, or atleast worthy of being remembered. Ugh, and it will have nothing to do with working out more or drinking less. I'm hoping this doesn't turn out to be a resolution or a goal, because I give myself those every day. "It's 8 am, maybe I should get up and run? Nah, I'm too tired." That suck ass and it gets real old, real quick. Maybe I'll go somewhere, with friends, and really enjoy myself for what it's worth. I want a unique experience, every year, that I'll never forget...or even better, experiences I couldn't forget, even if I wanted to. Guys, lets go to India. Stuff happens in India.

Don't worry, children. This isn't a "real" blog. This isn't an attempt to fill you guys in on what I ate for breakfast, or which one of my friends made me mad, or that I'm contemplating on taking a nap. This is just a place for me to share some wisdom, spark some attention, and hopefully, fulfill my sporadic need to start writing again. I'll try my hardest not to be a "blogger" by rambling on about each unimportant or way-too-personal-to-write-about-online aspect of my life -- even I wouldn't want to read about that.

But, ooh, I can't resist not displaying my life via PICS (...what a dumb word - PICS...just say picture, or photo for christ's sake). Enjoy.

Here you'll see:

My pride and joy in life -- Buster.

Best friends: Kimi, Molly, John, Bennett, Jeff, Jordan, and Kimi again (loves her).

Of course the family is included, but I can't find a group photo where we all look hot. Hello, I'm all about flattering those who deserve to be flattered.

Last, but not least, you will find me. Yes, in this photo I am indeed drunk. DON'T JUDGE ME. I'm human.

Life = Complete.