Creationism takes form and I am lost inside your world
One glance, two eyes, a hand, a hip, two lips
The world melts into you
To the left of center I find what my dreams have hidden
Your voice, my laughter, honesty becomes me and I am naked
Standing before you with nothing left and everything to give
You whisper, I move closer, we hear a tune played in the stars
A tune that floats and flies and sits inside your lips
Playing out over my heart,
Pouring out in smooth gleaming current
Coursing, flowing, pumping through my veins
A real love, soft and sweet and loud and vibrant
You race through my inner most parts
Discovering, uncovering, recovering the furthest pieces of me
From your eyes and hands a sweetness skips and drips
Upon me lands a dew of love
And I am undone.

RETROACTIVE POST WARNING:

This post was intended to appear November 20th and due to my ditziness it did not. Here it is though. Freedom and wheat...


Hey guys.

I know I have been extremely delinqunet in my blog writing lately, and so today I have set aside an hour, dedicate solely to providing you with good quality tit-for-tat blogmania.

The reason I have been unable to provide you with any digerstable reading can be directly blamed on my present ADD. With this new job and the whole crazy way I have been trying to live on like 3 hours of sleep a night, I haven't been able to focus on one thing for more than 22 seconds. And everything is the worse for it. Just ask my roomate. Poor thing, I am thoroughly surprised she has not had me arrested for the dirty dishes I have not cleaned in the past three weeks. It really is a criminal amount.

So the latest saga... The birthday. The boys. The kisses.

Yesterday was my birthday and instead of praying for someone to throw me a surprise party, or hoping my parents would remember or sulking in the misery that was the birthday blues, I decided that there are far too many people in this month that deserve a good party. Namely my roomate, Ms. Tattoo, two of "The Boys" and Ms. News. In order to keep my sanity and enjoy my birthday for once, I made a party for all of us. We had a luau theme at my roomates parents house, a chinese gift exchange and a couple of dips in the hot tub, all of which made for a really nice party.

"The boys" came into town, complete with their swim trunks just for little old me and let me tell you, I did not recieve a better present, nor could I have designed one, than to have the four of them on my doorstep. I dont' know what it is about them, but having only met them twice i can honestly say that I love them to pieces. I don't know why or how or whatfor or wherefore, but I do.

I suppose they should all have names here so that I could provide proper descriptions of them and so that I could enumerate the reasons that I love them. But it would be a feat. They could be "Boy 1" Ect., but that is hardly fitting for men I wouldn't mind marrying. The easiest thing would be to have them named "Mr. First initial here,"... If they weren't 2 and 2 of the same first initial. I would love to break my own rule and use first names, only because remebering the first names of four absolutely gorgeous men that would make any girl drool her coherency right out of her face is a feat to be proud of... But I just simply cannot do such a thing to myself or to my little buddies. Thats would just be un hott...

Oh well, untill I can think of a system, I suppose I should move onto the kisses; I know you are all awaiting this one with baited breath...

So The Boys walk up to the party house and they come in and we do the huggy huggy how are you I'm fine you smell good intro. And they hand me a bunch of b-e-a-utiful flowers which my easily distracted butt left at my roommate's parents house, and an extraordinarily large glass jar full of Hershey kisses. Well the night goes on and the hershey jar ends up as a gift in the gift exchange and i had to fight tooth and nail, scheming with the eldest to keep it.

And then there was one of those moments. One of those moments where all you can think is "Man, I need to marry/ make out with this kid right here, right now or I am going to explode." And I did. Explode that is. I don't know what to do, I am such a mess. I am sooooo in something with one of them and there's really nothing I can do about it, because at this rate, he'll just be learning how to spell my first name by the time I am picking out a wedding gown. SOMETIMES I HATE BEING ME. I do this everytime. I set my heart on someone/something/some situation that is so improabable it's sick and then, OUT OF NOWHERE, I get dissapointed. You'd think I would learn by now. Thats not too likely though...

Well I have officially spent an hour typing this and I have provided you with 15 minutes of somewhat stimulating material. I feel like I should offer shirts for entries like this one... Shirts that say "I read Luly's blog and all I got was this stinking shirt..."

The big girl job is no more.

I knew this day would come, I just didn't expect it to be so explosive. The woman I worked for was, to say the least, particular. Demanding. Frustrating. Wound Tightly. Annoying. Childish. Unfair. Inhumane...I suppose that actualy says a lot. All of which is true, but none of which is fair. She is a fellow christian and in that respect I should just say that she was "flawed" and leave it at that. But today I was called a liar, a thief, and a sabotuer for something I had no control over. So I am a little testy.

I have been called a lot in my short time here. But a theif? A Sabotuer? These things I am not capable of.

A little white lie here and there, sure... "Super Footwear Girl, did you drink the last of the whole Milk?" "No...."

A little thiever here and there maybe..." Super Footwear Girl, did you eat the Keebler cookies?" "Yes, I did...I know they weren't mine but they just looked so buttery and rich..."

But there is no way to name my character by these small and ultimately inconsequencial oversights of common sense and good judgement. You could not impound my life for the amount of theft of buttery, rich, chocolate-cream filled wafers.

I am not intelligent enough to think up ways to ruin any business because I do not think that way. I don't know how to. The best revenge tactic I have under my belt is post-it noting someone's car, and I have too big a concsience to even do that.

So I had to quit. And no, I don't think it makes me look guilty. If I were guilty of what she was accusing, I would have walked out when I preformed the task instead of waiting around to hear the fallout. If I were smart enough to pull it off and hang around I would have been smart enough to differ the blame. But I am not a criminal mastermind.

I am not a liar.
I am not a thief.
I am not a sabotuer.

I'm just a ditzy girl who tries her hardest and gets herself stuck in the most awkward positions...

(Get you minds out of the gutter...)

I wish I could record every moment of my extended weekend with him and herein entail every plan we've made, but it would be impossible. My brain has logged every sigh and every glance and every touch so accurately, that to write them here would take down the system. It would overload it with words and clips of phrases and descriptive events and monumental sightings so much so that all the blogs in the world would be filled up with my sappy, sweet, over flowing, blissful verbal description of heaven on earth.

Between his beautiful house, the low rolling hills of Northern Pennsylvania, and the quant tiny town that he loves so much, I can't even give you a good picture of life with him. It's just too much. It's just everything.

He's just everything.