It's interesting to me to note how relative to age maturity is. I've always figured each age had a maturity level and if you weren't acting on that level then you were immature. Stephen and a couple other people I know/knew have been examples of this, so to some degree it is a true assumption. However, today at bowling I was shown maturity can be relative. By this I mean everybody's background is different, even sibling's because of personal experiences. And so for them, maturity levels are different... Am I making sense here or babbling in the wind?

Anyways, as to how I learned this. I've thought Aubree was a bit immature and caught up in trying to be hip, but compared to a lil girl near her age whom I met today at Mom's bowling league, Aubree is more mature than she looks by herself. Brittany's little sister, who was also there, showed more grace and maturity than Brittany and Aubree during Aubree's moments of maturity. I was, in fact, quite impressed with Lindsay.

I just wish Aubree would grow up. I'm tired of dealing with her spoiled brattiness.

********
With this Night World mailing list/club I'm with--a club of L.J. Smith fans who're into vampires, witches, werewolves and other shapeshifters--there's a writings list where you can submit your own writings. Just for the pleasure of reading I joined. Recently, a young poet has begun sending her stuff to the list. Though her writing is simple, with lil or no punctuation or capitalization, her talent is quite evident in her ability to project vivid images into the brain.

This poem is called "Penny Candy." I liked this one because I could, in a way, relate to what she was saying, how she viewed herself at one point in her life. I too was all sweet and eager to please at one point and then, like penny candy, once played with and found on someone's sole afterwards, I wisened up. Where she considered herself penny candy I considered myself a marshmallow, easily moldable and soft. And when toasted and gooey, once savored and devoured, what lil there was of me on faces and fingers was scraped or washed off in distaste for the stickiness. Where she considered herself crem� brulee after the heartache, with its hard golden crust(?), I considered myself a jaded ice princess or fallen angel. Um, without further gabbing, here is her piece:

Penny Candy

is there such a thing
as being too nice?
that used to be me
all sugar, no spice
i was penny candy
easy to buy
appeasing your sweet tooth
quick to satisfy
drop a false promise
into the slot
and out i would tumble
all bubblelicious, no red hot
i appeared fiery
red speckles were sweet
not cinnamon, just food coloring
on your sugary treat
chew, chew, chew
then spit me out
once the sweet flavor
has run out
stretching me thin
and rubbery
until you're through
playing with me
then i got stuck
on a homeless man's foot
scraped me on the curb
latched on to another's boot
that was the cycle
filth stuck to me
that was then but now i know
and i do things differently
i'm creme brulee
my surface scorched
burnt to golden perfection
by heartache's torch
you'll have to work
to taste me sweetly
but that's only if
you can afford me.

Turquoise Deniker

I like the ending. She's toughened up, not so eager to please just anyone. She may be crem� brulee, but I'm an ice queen and though heat melts ice, I won't be so easily thawed by a lil room heater that gives off heat intermittently. There has yet to be a heater in my life that will slowly, consistently and determinedly share its heat with me.

..:: Remembered�����E�����Occuring ::..

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