A day like the weather

I haven't written in here in awhile. I've needed to, but haven't. But, I know its really time to write when I start ranting at the Gozick in my head.

On my way to school this morning my mom decided she was going to start ranting at me about college. Because I was a) listening to my ipod and b) still adjusting to being awake I was not very interested. Somehow or another, she got the impression that I'm not interested in going to college and blah blah blah. Apparently, I had to decide the rest of my life this morning on the way to school. (For the record, I'm not only interested in going to college, but ecstatic about it.)
My day increased drastically when I showed my English teacher a poem I had written the night before and she said it was fabulous. Mrs. Cochran is not a woman who just gives out compliments. You have to work your ass off to earn them. And I did =] I was sooo pleased that I actually went around showing it to everyone. My day remained peachy up until I got home.
I dont even know what to say. My brother is an idiot and home life is just stressful at the moment. So its icky!
I have a lot more to say, but its nothing I want to make public, so this was a lost cause, I suppose. I'll just continue ranting to the Gozick in my head and hopefully things will improve.

Yeah, my day has been like the weather...ever changing. Anyway, here's the poem I guess. Its not finished but I'm proud of what I have:

I am confined
by the barricades of artistry.
Billy wasn’t kidding when he warned us of the walls.
Bedecked with deep, petty emotions,
I am contained by them.

He spoke of a window.
That which saw through
the absurd metaphysics
and frivolous mysticism.

I hope to find that window
and to wade through it all;
to escape the metallic ice
of love and despair.
I want to know what lies
beyond the limits of truth

But the truth
is that I cant.
No poet or sculptor can
because we built these walls of abstractions.
Walt warned us to solidify;
So we did.

It’s all quite useless
Oscar insincerely advised.
But we pay him no mind
and continue building our walls
and trapping ourselves inside.
Because outside of that window
art does not exist
only vital circumstance.

TaDa.