So this is Kate Voegele, not Taylor Swift...
As high as the moon
So high were my spirits
When you sang out my name
And coming from you
It was enough just to hear it
Oh, it rang like the bells did today
But even the sturdiest ground
Can shift and can tremble and let us fall down…
Kindly unspoken
You show your emotion
And silence speaks louder than words
It’s lucky I’m clever
Cause if I didn’t know better
I’d believe only that which I’d heard
In the days of my folly
I followed your lead
Did what Simon Says to do
But I won’t let melancholy
Play me for a fool
Oh, no I’m on my way somewhere new
And as far as your lack of something to say
Well, to tell me goodbye there was no better way
Kindly unspoken
You show your emotion
And silence speaks louder than words
It’s lucky I’m clever
If I didn’t know better
I’d believe only that which I’d heard
So don’t keep me up till the dawn
With words that’ll keep leading me on
I know much better than to wait for an answer from you
Kindly unspoken
You show your emotion
And silence speaks louder than words
It’s lucky I’m clever
If I didn’t know better
I’d believe only that which I’d heard
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
You're Not Sorry
All this time I was wasting hoping you would come around.
I've been giving out chances every time and all you do is let me down.
And it's taken me this long baby but I figured you out.
And you think it will be fine again but not this time around.
You don't have to call anymore
I won't pick up the phone
This is the last straw
Don't wanna hurt anymore
And you tell me that you're sorry
But I don't believe you baby
Like I did before
You're not sorry, ohh no no no
Looking so innocent, I might believe you if I didn't know.
Could've loved you all my life if you hadn't left me waiting in the cold.
And you've got your share of secrets and I'm tired of being last to know.
And now you're asking me to listen cause it's worked each time before.
You don't have to call anymore
I won't pick up the phone
This is the last straw
Don't wanna hurt anymore
And you tell me that you're sorry
But I don't believe you baby
Like I did before
You're not sorry, ohh no no no
You're not sorry ohh no no
You had me calling for you honey and it never would have gone away, no.
You used to shine so bright but I watch our loving fade.
So you don't have to call anymore
I won't pick up the phone
This is the last straw
There's nothing left to beg for
And you tell me that you're sorry
But I don't believe you baby
Like I did before
You're not sorry, ohh no no
You're not sorry ohh no no no
I've been giving out chances every time and all you do is let me down.
And it's taken me this long baby but I figured you out.
And you think it will be fine again but not this time around.
You don't have to call anymore
I won't pick up the phone
This is the last straw
Don't wanna hurt anymore
And you tell me that you're sorry
But I don't believe you baby
Like I did before
You're not sorry, ohh no no no
Looking so innocent, I might believe you if I didn't know.
Could've loved you all my life if you hadn't left me waiting in the cold.
And you've got your share of secrets and I'm tired of being last to know.
And now you're asking me to listen cause it's worked each time before.
You don't have to call anymore
I won't pick up the phone
This is the last straw
Don't wanna hurt anymore
And you tell me that you're sorry
But I don't believe you baby
Like I did before
You're not sorry, ohh no no no
You're not sorry ohh no no
You had me calling for you honey and it never would have gone away, no.
You used to shine so bright but I watch our loving fade.
So you don't have to call anymore
I won't pick up the phone
This is the last straw
There's nothing left to beg for
And you tell me that you're sorry
But I don't believe you baby
Like I did before
You're not sorry, ohh no no
You're not sorry ohh no no no
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Being Not Creative
From now on I'm just going to post the lyrics to whichever Taylor Swift song most accurately describes my life at the moment... why am I a seventeen year old girl? I don't know the answer to that question.
I'd Lie
I don't think that passenger seat
Has ever looked this good to me
He tells me about his night
And I count the colors in his eyes
He'll never fall in love
He swears, as he runs his fingers through his hair
I'm laughing 'cause I hope he's wrong
And I don't think it ever crossed his mind
He tells a joke, I fake a smile
But I know all his favorite songs
And I could tell you
His favorite color's green
He loves to argue
Born on the seventeenth
His sister's beautiful
He has his father's eyes
And if you ask me if I love him
I'd lie
He looks around the room
Innocently overlooks the truth
Shouldn't a light go on
Doesn't he know that I've had him memorized for so long
And he sees everything black and white
Never let nobody see him cry
I don't let nobody see me wishin' he was mine
I could tell you
His favorite color's green
He loves to argue
Born on the seventeenth
His sister's beautiful
He has his father's eyes
And if you ask me if I love him
I'd lie
He stands there, then walks away
My God, if I could only say
I'm holding every breath for you
He'd never tell you
But he can play guitar
I think he can see through everything but my heart
First thought when I wake up is
My God, he's beautiful
So I put on my make-up
And pray for a miracle
Yes, I could tell you
His favorite color's green
And he loves to argue
Oh, and it kills me
His sister's beautiful
He has his father's eyes
And if you ask me if I love him...
if you ask me if I love him...
I'd lie
I'd Lie
I don't think that passenger seat
Has ever looked this good to me
He tells me about his night
And I count the colors in his eyes
He'll never fall in love
He swears, as he runs his fingers through his hair
I'm laughing 'cause I hope he's wrong
And I don't think it ever crossed his mind
He tells a joke, I fake a smile
But I know all his favorite songs
And I could tell you
His favorite color's green
He loves to argue
Born on the seventeenth
His sister's beautiful
He has his father's eyes
And if you ask me if I love him
I'd lie
He looks around the room
Innocently overlooks the truth
Shouldn't a light go on
Doesn't he know that I've had him memorized for so long
And he sees everything black and white
Never let nobody see him cry
I don't let nobody see me wishin' he was mine
I could tell you
His favorite color's green
He loves to argue
Born on the seventeenth
His sister's beautiful
He has his father's eyes
And if you ask me if I love him
I'd lie
He stands there, then walks away
My God, if I could only say
I'm holding every breath for you
He'd never tell you
But he can play guitar
I think he can see through everything but my heart
First thought when I wake up is
My God, he's beautiful
So I put on my make-up
And pray for a miracle
Yes, I could tell you
His favorite color's green
And he loves to argue
Oh, and it kills me
His sister's beautiful
He has his father's eyes
And if you ask me if I love him...
if you ask me if I love him...
I'd lie
Monday, December 15, 2008
Whoever said "All publicity is good publicity" was clearly not from Parowan...
AN AMERICAN MOMENT: Road to the inauguration
In Utah, the Parowan Prophet predicts disaster will prevent Obama from taking office
Kirk McKoy / Los Angeles Times
Leland Freeborn and 12 other survivalists meet every Monday at his home. The group believes Leland is a prophet and they come to hear his predictions.
'He will not be the next president,' Leland Freeborn warns those who will listen. He and his followers expect nuclear explosions this Christmas season.
Reporting from Parowan, Utah -- Our trip to the Parowan Prophet began with a letter to the St. George Spectrum. It was set among missives proposing that oil companies bail out Detroit automakers, that county inmates be forced to winter in tents, that lawyers be barred from public office. A rough crowd.This particular letter to the editor in the St. George, Utah, newspaper carried the headline " 'Prophet' shares grim forecast," and it was signed by one Leland Freeborn of Parowan, who wrote that he was known to many as the Parowan Prophet.
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"I think that you should hear what my opinion about the Obama election is: that he will not be the next president. I said on my home page in August that if he lost to expect to see the 'riots' that 2 Peter 2:13 tells us about. He didn't lose. But the story is not finished yet. I still think they may begin the riots before Christmas 2008, as I said."
These riots, according to his prophecy, will encourage the "old, hard-line Soviet guard" to seize the moment and rain down nukes on the United States, killing at least 100 million of us.
"Prepare now," Freeborn's letter concluded. "We are downwind from Las Vegas. I hope you can survive."
It took an hour to reach the prophet, a high-country drive through stunning red-rock formations, the color of which matches the politics in this corner of southern Utah. A freeway billboard, depicting a nuclear mushroom cloud, provided directions to the prophet's two-story house.
The frontyard seemed a staging ground for rapid flight -- two or three motor boats, a raft, a canoe, a recreational vehicle and an old sedan, parked with its engine running.
The man who answered our unexpected knock wore a cowboy hat with a big feather stuck in the band, and a beard suggestive of St. Nick. We asked to see the prophet. He said we had the right guy.
Freeborn hobbled out the door on crutches and eased into a wheelchair on the porch. As it turned out, he was heating the car not for rapid escape from a nuclear cloud, but to take a neighbor to the doctor.
"I only have nine minutes," he said.
It was enough time to sketch out his history -- a Mormon of substance, a father of 12, he had crashed his airplane in 1975 and fallen into a three-week coma, during which he went through "to the other side" and emerged a prophet.
Freeborn, now 66, took "a plural wife," as he put it, and parted ways with the church. He forfeited his wealth, spreading word of his prophecies. He appears to live now mainly on sales of newsletters and survival information packets advertised on his website.
Asked for examples of successful prophecies, he offered O.J. Simpson's murder acquittal and Al Gore's winning of the popular vote in 2000. But his core insight has been a repeated dream of seeing nuclear flashes to the west while shopping at a Wal-Mart during Christmas season.
And this, he warned, appears to be the year.
As Freeborn rose to leave, he said he would be hosting a weekly religious meeting that night. He urged us to come.
"If you can write a story," Freeborn said, "you can save a lot of lives in L.A."
There were about a dozen believers in the two front rooms, men and women of all ages, squeezed together on couches and dining room chairs.
All of them had broken with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints over polygamy and other departures from what they believe was the original vision of the church founder Joseph Smith. And all said they regarded Freeborn a prophet.
The cluttered room was filled with Bibles and religious tracts, government maps depicting potential nuclear targets, and framed photographs of mushroom clouds.
For 90 minutes -- while two boys played on the carpet with a calculator and a marked-up Book of Mormon -- the adults read aloud selected biblical verses, passages from Smith's biography and text pulled from an unidentified website.
After each reading, they discussed how these fragments all pointed to a singular end: nuclear destruction brought on by the Lord's wrath.
Freeborn sprawled in a stuffed chair, directing the discussion and sometimes correcting his acolytes. It was a congenial group, but not much given to small talk. As the night wound down, Freeborn returned to his core prophecy.
"I really believe we are out of time," he said. "I really do."
Freeborn conceded that he'd issued similar warnings many times before, and still the world kept spinning. Prophecy, he said, is not an exact science.
"I've been at it for 30 years, and I have always really believed it," he said. "Now, if we go on, that's great. Maybe we can get some more people to repent."
He seemed weary, referring to himself as a "gimpy old crippled guy from Parowan." He described going on radio and, mocked by the host, receiving not a single request from the audience for survival information. He said he has been shunned in town, his property vandalized. He recited from memory a scriptural passage about "scoffers."
The prophet's eyes reddened, and I could sense his frustration as he sized us up as two more likely nonsubscribers. As he dropped his head in contemplation, it occurred to me: How terrible it must be to believe what this man truly appears to believe, and yet have so few willing to listen.
Perhaps for our benefit, the group volunteered some secular support for Freeborn's prophecy. Perhaps economic meltdown would trigger the riots. Maybe there would be an uprising over an automaker bailout.
"One thought you might have," came a voice from somewhere behind me, "is that we don't have any leadership now until January. See what I am saying? We are in limbo. If they do something tomorrow, who is going to decide?"
The night's last word belonged to the prophet.
"Everything is coming together," Freeborn said, "and it fits right now."
He presented us with brown medicine bottles filled with iodide crystals -- to ward off the effects of radiation.
"I don't think you are going to finish your trip back East," the Parowan Prophet said, urging us to reconsider our journey to the inauguration.
Nonetheless, with our little brown bottles of iodide, we will press on. The rest of you are warned.
King is a Times staff writer.
This ran in the LA times...I have no words.
Monday, December 8, 2008
A few of my favorite things
"It´s only when you´re tested that you truly discover who you are. And it´s only when you´re tested that you discover who you can be. The person that you want to be does exist, somewhere in the other side of hard work and faith, and belief and beyond the HEARTACHE and fear of life."
"Sometimes pain becomes such a huge part of your life that you expect it to always be there…because you can't remember a time in your life when it wasn't. But then one day you feel something else-something that feels wrong, only because it's so unfamiliar. And in that moment you realize…you're happy."
"You know that romantic notion that all the garbage and pain is actually really healing, and beautiful, and sort of poetic? It's not, it's just garbage and it's pain. You know what's better? love. The day that you start thinking that love is overrated is the day that you're wrong. The only thing wrong with love, and faith, and belief is not having it."
"A girl should be two things: classy and fabulous."
"I never worry about diets. The only carrots that interest me are the number you get in a diamond."
"I don't mind living in a man's world as long as I can be a woman in it."
"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.
"I don't much care where –" said Alice.
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat.
"– so long as I get somewhere," Alice added as an explanation.
"Oh, you're sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."
"Sometimes pain becomes such a huge part of your life that you expect it to always be there…because you can't remember a time in your life when it wasn't. But then one day you feel something else-something that feels wrong, only because it's so unfamiliar. And in that moment you realize…you're happy."
"You know that romantic notion that all the garbage and pain is actually really healing, and beautiful, and sort of poetic? It's not, it's just garbage and it's pain. You know what's better? love. The day that you start thinking that love is overrated is the day that you're wrong. The only thing wrong with love, and faith, and belief is not having it."
"A girl should be two things: classy and fabulous."
"I never worry about diets. The only carrots that interest me are the number you get in a diamond."
"I don't mind living in a man's world as long as I can be a woman in it."
"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.
"I don't much care where –" said Alice.
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat.
"– so long as I get somewhere," Alice added as an explanation.
"Oh, you're sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Plans, Dreams, and Destruction
Sometimes you have this plan. A plan for how your life is going to be. A plan for children, a plan for a husband. A plan for a family. One day this boy walks into your life and you know that this boy would make your plan work perfectly. He fits into the plan so well. Nothing would change. Because when you made this plan you cut out a silhouette for exactly that boy. Sometimes when that boy walks out of your plan it feels like the rest of the plan won't work without him. It feels like he took the plan with him. Where does that leave you? When the perfect man and the perfect plan take off and leave you with nothing but doubts and insecurities. Where do you go? What do you do? The rest of the plan doesn't make sense without him. Do you start a new plan? If you're me... the solution to this is to run away. Run away fast and run away hard, and try like hell not to look back. But sometimes the boy doesn't know that he wrecked your plans and your dreams and he still wants to be friends. It's hard to run away when he is holding your hand. What if the person you gave your heart to is crushing it to pieces, but he won't let go of it? What then? What if watching him crush your heart and your dreams isn't nearly as painful as the idea of living without him? Does that make you weak? Does that make you pathetic?
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Thank You Taylor Swift
Say you're sorry
That face of an angel
Comes out just when you need it to
As I paced back and forth all this time
Cause I honestly believed in you
Holding on
The days drag on
Stupid girl,
I should have known, I should have known that
I'm not a princes, this ain't a fairy tale
I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet,
Lead her up the stairwell
This ain't Hollywood, this is a small town,
I was a dreamer before you went and let me down
Now it's too late for you
And your white horse, to come around
Baby I was naive,
Got lost in your eyes
And never really had a chance
My mistake I didn't know
To be in love
You had to fight to have the upper hand
I had so many dreams
About you and me
Happy endings
Now I know that
I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairy tale
I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet,
Lead her up the stairwell
This ain't Hollywood, this is a small town,
I was a dreamer before you went and let me down
Now it's too late for you
And your white horse, to come around
And there you are on your knees,
Begging for forgiveness, begging for me
Just like I always wanted but I'm so sorry
Cause I'm not your princess, this ain't a fairytale
I'm gonna find someone someday who might actually treat me well
This is a big world, that was a small town
There in my rearview mirror disappearing now
And its too late for you and your white horse
Now its too late for you and your white horse, to catch me now
Isn't it funny how a teenager has life figured out more than I do... I'm taking her lead and walking away. FINALLY. All of you who know what I'm referring to can let out a sigh of relief now.
That face of an angel
Comes out just when you need it to
As I paced back and forth all this time
Cause I honestly believed in you
Holding on
The days drag on
Stupid girl,
I should have known, I should have known that
I'm not a princes, this ain't a fairy tale
I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet,
Lead her up the stairwell
This ain't Hollywood, this is a small town,
I was a dreamer before you went and let me down
Now it's too late for you
And your white horse, to come around
Baby I was naive,
Got lost in your eyes
And never really had a chance
My mistake I didn't know
To be in love
You had to fight to have the upper hand
I had so many dreams
About you and me
Happy endings
Now I know that
I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairy tale
I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet,
Lead her up the stairwell
This ain't Hollywood, this is a small town,
I was a dreamer before you went and let me down
Now it's too late for you
And your white horse, to come around
And there you are on your knees,
Begging for forgiveness, begging for me
Just like I always wanted but I'm so sorry
Cause I'm not your princess, this ain't a fairytale
I'm gonna find someone someday who might actually treat me well
This is a big world, that was a small town
There in my rearview mirror disappearing now
And its too late for you and your white horse
Now its too late for you and your white horse, to catch me now
Isn't it funny how a teenager has life figured out more than I do... I'm taking her lead and walking away. FINALLY. All of you who know what I'm referring to can let out a sigh of relief now.
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