So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up, And say to all the world, THIS WAS A MAN!

This week, Stauros ministries came to our church in place of our usual Pastor.

I am always moved by the young men and women that come to us from Stauros, a Godly ministry developed to support peeopl battling addiction with the love of Christ and the solidarity of community.

This week I was moved to tears as usual, and I liked the young fathers testimony of God's love. And I enjoyed the study of Proverbs: "The name of the Lord is a strong tower the righteous run into it and they are saved."

Then, I felt a deep well spring of anger build within me. Suddenly, I hated these recovering addicts and their testimonies and their guitar playing and praising of the Lord. I felt like this growing disgust was cutting me from within, starting with the soft tissue of my lower abdomen and working up and out to my throat. As the burning sensation grew, I had to clear my head.

What was my problem? Jealousy. The jealousy in seeing these successful men grow and flourish in the wealth and light of God. Jealousy and guilt. The guilt that comes when you turn your back on someone who needs you more than you know.

I have said it before, but I have never truly admitted to the guilt I feel. I saw and addicts pain. I felt the disease rip my life apart end from end and I ran. I ran into the strong tower of the Lord and I pulled up my rope and I left the most important person behind. The person who didn't know where to run. The person who thought that he was safer in his addiction.

What have I done? Have I saved myself and preserved myself in the Lord's sight? Or have I once again disobeyed Him and ignored His command to save the lost sheep over the 99 safe sheep?

What do you think about the first 12 pages of Native Son?

English 102
ME
Prof. English


The rat scene awakens the reader to Bigger’s world. The use of onomatopoeia draws the reader into the apartment with a “shrill” “screaking” of the rat just after the “brinnnnnnng” of the alarm. The scuttle of the rat at daybreak comes as no surprise to the characters. The Thomas family seems in tune and aware of their environment and situation. The Thomas familiy's reaction to the rat helps to relate a tactile setting for the reader; here we are in a “black” room with “iron” beds and “brown” and “black” people dodging a “black rat” with “long, yellow fangs.” There lays before us a dark, early waking world with foot long rats and frying pan avengers. Wright saturates the story with more than just sound. Colors, vibrant and deliberate also provide the reader with a 3-dimensional experience. The rat scene prepares the reader for a tumultuous, fast-paced and colorful journey through the world as Bigger sees it. Or rather as the third person omniscience portrays Bigger’s view of the world.

I also cc'd Jesus on this one, but he kinda already knew.

An adendum to my first note of prayer, this one is for Tracey.

I forgot to tell you why I need to start this outreach now.

I had a growing feeling about the importance of my work for Christ within the subculture, but didn't fully realize the impact of my feelings until I mentioned my thoughts to one of my best friends within the church, Tracey. She said she would pray for me and bring it up in an evangelism team meeting. My church loved the idea and wants to help me.

Just knowing that i have their support tells me that God is already working small miracles in my life and the lives of those he is allowing me to move.

Again, thanks:

Belisima

I said this to you, but I CC'd Christ

Homie, great to meet you, so to speak.

I was mulling over what God was telling me lately and I happened to mull aloud to my best friend in Christ, Kimmie B. She said, "You have to do this and you have to seek out Homie for help"

Sometime's God gives us choices and He waits patiently for an answer. When I was saved in 2003, He waited patiently for me to work out my faith and decide how to show it in my life, all the while preparing me to be a go-between culturally. Forever on the fence of uber-conservatism and out right left wing, I bounced back and forth for a while until God got tired of waiting. Now, I think I have to put to work what I have learned.

I'm sorry if this sounds strange or overly artistic, I just wanted to give you some background on my current position.

I am a 21 year old woman with a part time job, going to school full time,and in the middle of a divorce. My Catholic family never really understood my faith and unfortunatly neither did my husband. I've been kicked out of church choir, admonished for my outreach to the gay community and ultimatly turned away by a church that I love and was saved in.

But I plug quietly away and continue to show for church regardless of how they view my tatoo, my divorce, my family... I continue to recite scripture to my gay friends in a quiet, literary way, all the time answering their questions and showing them the love that Christ shows me. I continue to do the things that God tells me to, without hardly understanding or seeing any benefit, all the while trusting in his promises.

I guess I am appealing to you for help. I need help showing peole the forgiving love of Christ. Especially people that my church may be uncomfortable reaching out to.

Imperfect people like me who drink on friday nights. People who have had premarital sex and don't know why they feel guilty. People who like having purple hair. People who don't know the first thing about Christ but know that they are missing something. Men who love their boyfriends, Latch-key kids, Jews for Jesus...

General subculture people who understand that only God has the power to judge us and only we have to power to show what glorious things He has done for us.

So, Homie, do you think you could maybe help me?

Patiently living on God's word:
Belisima

"Well, You're magic," he said

There is something so peculiar about how my mind arranges itself when I am just being me. There is something so puzzling about what seems logical and at times I more than suprise myself.

Why would I even think that there would be a gleam left in his heart or mind for me? Why would I think that he would still have any recognition of my tattered, full, life drawn face and desperate attempts to mask my weary heart with fine clothes and gorgeous shoes?

Why had I been so sure that he would not only recognize me this way, but call me to his heart and seat me to the right of his own life as he used to?

Why should my opinion and taste and thought process matter to him? Because I wanted it to? Because it always had before?

It is very difficult, this growing thing.

It is tedious and tempestuous and tricky and tumultuous. It takes time and tenderness and the banishment of all timidity.

I want to think differently than I ever have before. In some matters, I want to grab the bull by the horns and shake him with a reckoning force.

And, in all other aspects, I want to be able to stand still. To allow things to progress naturally. To watch change instead of wearying myself creating it, only to watch it fail and falter.

Do I want him to like me, or do I finally want to be free of him and his easy nature. His lassiez-faire approach to life and love. His quiet laughter and the curl of his lip and the small way he finds to remind me of myself in all situations and the way he builds me up, all while blushing in spite of hiimself. Do I finally have the freedom and the choice in my heart to move forward with my life, him withstanding?

No. I want him. I want him to like me and need me and rely on me, and miss me, and think of my when it rains for to curl up in bed and drink tea and when it's sunny to take day trips to the ocean, all while I choose the soundtrack and what jokes we make and what we do to become closer.

I want him. Especially for those times when I feel I need nothing and no one and I think I am independant of all life on earth. I need him much more acutely then when he always seems to shake me back into myself.

I want to be owned by his possesive insecurities.

I want to have fun with him. I want to be the one he calls when he is restless. When he wants for trouble, there I'll be. And we'll spend long hours driving around town before settling on leaving the trouble to those that know it well while we chicken out.

The thing I forgot to consider was: What might he want?

We are so utterly seperated by time and space and purpose and path and group. Perhaps he hates the thought of dragging me around where he goes, or worse of leaving me, pining an whining after him. Maybe he loves his single, unattached freedom to be where and when he wants. Maybe he just doesn't know what to say to me anymore.

So here I am with open arms. Hoping you'll see what your love and life and hapiness means to me.

Do you think he'll notice when I smile that I wish for him to tell me what to do and who to be?

Am I that girl that loves strangers and is fascinated by newness and needs to always be initiating relationships and shoving herself into peoples lives?

Or am I something new? Something refreshed? A quieter, more mysterious me with a shy way and a quick but unheard wit? A girl that people wonder about? Someone interesting and storied and rich with character?

Ebb and flow of things often misunderstood.

There are a few strange thoughts that I have allowed not only to wander through my mind, here causing me a shudder, here evoking a smile, but that I will also transpose into literary for you to read a muse over in your own way.

It is a great deal of energy to love someone so fervently; to memorize one's face, their ways, the feel of their hair, even the unpleasant- and then to be called upon to forget them entirely. I have to remind myself everyday that this is the right thing. And that I will be happier after all is said and done. But oh- to smell him, to fell him lay beside me- thoughts that haunt me now were once so welcome, so warm. But as Jane said, God's law was not made for us when we are sane.

D.H. Lawrence's Sons and Lovers is a difficult read. It's a thick book with much cockney dialogue and vague references to foreign Northern england culture, circa 188-. But the characters are deep, believable, and relatable. Walter Morel represents a past prominant, dominant man in my life- crude, ill-educated, and a forceful drunk who knew nothing but physical labor and how to be a rotten father. Mrs. Morel is a quiet, forbearing but independant woman who should have run when given the chance. Paul is Mr. Hamster through and through, glued to his mother's side and wary of everything. This book is exploring many of the feelings I know and hate. Maybe it's true and broken nature lends to the difficulty of the read... Maybe I am just a lazy reader.

I long to be excited again. About anything. I have this silly thought that maybe excitement is for the young and stupid. But I don't think so now. I think I will see it again. I think I will feel a tug on my heart everytime he calls my name, or touches my shoulder, or asks me if I am happy. I think he will be again, despite myself. Or maybe he will never reappear, that ellusive Cupid. But maybe I will learn a new form of excitement. Some women are blessed with children out of broken marriages, while others have the expanse of time, culture, and opportunity laying before them. I should be excited about opportunity, right? But, then again, opportunity is no sounding board. Opportunity won't kiss you on the forehead, or hold you hand at the doctors, or smile when you come in the door. Did he ever do those things anyways?

Crystal Light is an indulgance I am forcing myself to afford. (Hey, I didn't promise depth here, you just assumed)

WARNING: My thoughts do progress from here and may not be particularly suitable A) for people who know me really well, or B) for children


Sex... Sex is a privilege. I haven't talked about sex in a long time because I was too proud to admit that I am a slave to a sexual appetite, that I am a sexual being with sexual receptors in my brain. I have disregarded the fact that I am an animal, with instincts to procreate and enjoy the act. But I have to admit, it's been weighing on me lately. Not just the sex I'm missing out on, but the horrible sexual choices I made. I have long since denied my mistakes in judgement, and I have found them staring back at me everytime I open my closet to view each new skeleton I throw in. I was never promiscuous, but my partner was. I knew it from the start, but I was too blind, too stupid and too unawares to do anything about it.

I thought I would get over it, overlook it, or just simply "move on." But I can't. Or my heart refuses to. In either case, Sex ruins everything. I did things the "right way," save one mistake that I have paid for in an amazing way.

Sex is one of those things- Sex is like driving a car... One day, there you are, rockin' out to Billie Joel, abiding by the speed limit, wearing your safety belt and sunglasses when BAM! Some Teeny Bopper named Mitzy slams her 1997 Black Manual Corrola into your 2006 Luxery, leather interior all wheel drive fully automatic with a moon roof and child safety locks BMW. And she has no insurance.

What I mean is, you can go along your whole life protected and safe. Then you get married and think, great, here's a safe and secure way to procreate and enjoy sex. So you do. Until you realize that you perfect partner who shares this God-given right to fulfilment IS NOT using protection. When he has sex. With other women. Women who are not you. Women who may or may not be dirty. Women who may or may not be attractive. Women who may or may not know that he has a loving and doting wife who- aside from one horrible exception- saved herself for him and would do ANYTHING to make him happy. Women who have no right procreating with your husband.

And there you are. Alone, Sexless, and Unprotected. All because of Mitzy. Who, in this case is not a teeny bopper who stole her brothers car to go buy illegal cigarettes and listen to Justin Timberlake on his Sirius satelite radio... Oh no. The person in that 1997 Black Manual Corrolla is the one person in all the world you trust more than life. The one person who turns you out. The one person who you feel sexy around in any capacity. The one person you have sexual relations with.

And here I am, alone. Sexless. Unprotected. Bitter. Hurt. So bitter and hurt, in fact that it is ruining every chance I have to meet normal, caring men who like to talk over coffee and indulge me when I talk about really boring things like the countryside, recreational hair cuts, and the best thing out of BBCA, Coupling. So bitter and hurt, that I think every man is gay or a serial killer or both. So bitter an hurt that I think 'Maybe that's all I ever deserved.'

Maybe blondes do have all the fun. Maybe the nice guy doesn't finish last, just the fat nice guy. Maybe the pretty girl ends up with the guy. Maybe that's all I'm worth.

I think I'm a weenie. I think I should stop being afraid to walk to my car at night in a well lit and populated parking lot. I think I should be able to overcome my fear of answering the telephone. I think that when a cute guy hits on me at a bar, I should be more receptive and ignore the instincts that he is a trained assasin sent here to kidnap me.

I should have the courage to tell people "I beg your pardon, but my whereabouts are my business alone. If you should chance to know something about where or with whom I travel, what I do on my days off, or where I go to school, kindly keep it to yourself."

I should also have to courage to tell people, in a nice way that my marital status is not something I would like to be grilled on, or scolded for, or looked at with concern and told "Atleast you didn't have any children. Think of how your actions would have ruined them" Nor would I like people to allow their children to ask me whether or not I am still married and when the divorce will be final and whether or not I get allimony. There are so many things wrong with that, mainly that the preceeding information IS ALL TRUE.

I should have more than dreams to sustain me.

I'm just never going to have the relationship with Oranges that I think they want. They will always be for me a great juice and a horrible texture. Kind of like that guy that you love but that can't kiss you like you want to be kissed or dance just right.

When you have shoes in boxes that you are afraid to break out because you don't want people to think you have a problem, it's time to reevaluate your lifestyle. Or just the people you hang out with.

Wow, what a catharsis.

Young John Takes a Country Ride...

We were driving along alright. No real incidents for the past 20 miles or so. I wondered if she had changed her mind or not. I wondered a lot of things though.

"Young?" she whispered in her sleep like she always did. I was begining to wonder if, in waking hours she remembered me at all, or if I, like a vision haunted her as a dream that one cannot shake eerily does in the dim winter daylight.

"Yes?" I expected her to roll to her side and forget having ever called for me. I expected the sky to fall in heavy crashing waves on the road before the glaring red hood of the car outside of ever expecting her remark.

"Young, I love it when you drive" She smiled and twinkled and sat spritely and playfully up in her seat, readjusting her chaise and hair and camisole where necessary.

Most of our rides continued in silence. I usually played something inspiring, something soft, something the hum of the engine would disguise to her delicate ears in her relaxed horizontal position. A position from which I gained much and she lost little in beauty, grace and my admiration.

But not today. Not on what had already become the most interesting day in the history of my life with her. No. Today, she was alive. Today she was free. Today, she had obtained a refreshed spirit from her short nap and she had something different in her.

"Do you?" I had almost discounted her voice as my imagination. Prone to wander, I had learned in these long rides not to trust it; It often overtook me when I would chance to look over at her, soft, vulnerable, unchanged, and dreaming of her escape. Violent with expression, it would call out to me "She only lies so you will see her" or "she only sighs in her sleep because she is dreaming of you" or "She only cries so because she longs for you"

But today I had to test it. I had to wait it out until it was thrown out the window by her own soft sweet voice and it was left behind on the highway.

"Yes, I really do. It gives me time to think. But you know, I had always wondered where you drove me to"

She would wonder no longer, nor be surprised at our route. I drove her over low rolling hills just outside of the city. Hills that she photographed time and again. Hills that she obsessed over. Hills that I just saw as hills and that romanced her very soul. Hills that provided slowing, rolling curves that I could easily navigate with the windows down, hopping a draft would catch her hair and reveal her bright pink cheeks.

"Young?" She held it sweetly on her tongue and then let it fall across her lips and linger in the air before her.

"Yes?"

"Thank you" And then she was gone. She rolled down the window as I came to a stop into the town and she was gone. Just as quickly as she had awaken and seen me and made out our whereabouts with certainty, just as quickly as she gave me hope that she truly saw me and wanted my company and pleasure in her, she was gone.

I, for once, and not undone by this. If she knows me enough to smile and draw out from herself a whisper of me, I am not undone.

Oh Jeffrey Vader, How I love thee.

This is quite possibly the best use of legos I have seen since Rick and Steve. Curled plastic high fives all the way round.



PS THIS IS a game of who the F*** are you.

Being Late is 13 Leagues Better than Never

T13. Late as usual. But timely.

13 Reasons why I am going back to school

1. Because I hate having so much money that all I have left to do is stick it in my ears; I would much rather spend $13,000 on a crazy local education.

2. Because I long to have "townie" removed from peoples description of me.

3. Because my life just wasn't busy enough.

4. Obviously and most importantly I miss writing papers for english class.

5. Because, as life is, my sarcasm only reaches so many.

6. Piano Lessons just weren't enough.

7. Jeff said so.

8. Because my in-laws would never approve.

9. Ultimatetly, Young John will benefit from the expansion of my mind.

10. I miss debate class. Which was every class I was ever in. Coincedence? Don't kid yourself.

11. I like just being another nameless face in the crowd.

12. I failed at marriage, I had better just stick to something I know this time.

13. They tricked me into believing I really could get a B.A. in Underwater Basketweaving; my true heart's desire.

The Interview, a Prequel

The REAL 15 questions that Young John was supposed to answer that I will now answer for myself here:

Was your childhood characterized by positivity or negativity?

I would say over all positivity. There were dark clouds but they were merely a teaching tool for appreciation.

Who was your more receptive parent?

My Mother, she was my only parent.

What did/ do you love most about that parent?

Her dedication. Once she made a decision- a truly important decision or commitment- she never disregarded it.

What do you dislike most about that parent?

Her practicality. Which is also one of her most respectful qualities. But I always long for her to have a fruitful and wandering mind along with me on occasion

Who, outside of your family, is your biggest inspiration and why?

Young John. He has given me freedom, a greater one I know I shall never fin; weightless and owing nothing, I am floating through life and becoming more and more the woman I want to be because of Young.

What profession most appealed to you when you were eight years old?

Being a ballerina like Audrey Hepburn. Never mind that I am a beast of a person with the gracefulness of a two legged ox...

What profession would you enter into now, other than you current one?

Nursing. For no real reason other than someone ought to

What is your mantra for life?

Quit Bitching, Start a Revolution, if I have to pick just one. Guard your heart for it affects all you do, if I am allowed two.

If you could speak any language, what would it be?

Italian so I could prove to the skeptics that I do belong to my people.

Name 3 people you wish were in your acquaintance.

Mr. Right, whoever he might be, Eddie Izzard, and Audrey Hepburn. I know, not very profound...

What is the most entertaining story you have from your life experience?

Borrowing from another's life experience, My mother grew up with her mother and Grandmother. She came home one day to the women speaking Italian rapidly and peeling potatoes or stirring boiling water or some kitchen task. When she asked what the were talking about, my grandmother, her mother said "Dinner" when she asked what that might be, she was directed to a bucket on the kitchen floor. A bucket full of live, writhing, swimming, curling, eels.

As far as my life is concerned, every day is a new adventure, a new amusement. I can't peg those joyful, serenely funny, heart stopping moments because they are so plentiful.

Have you ever gotten over your first love?

No, and he knows it.

What is the last book you read?

The Professor, Charlotte Bronte

What is your favorite work of fiction?

Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte

What is the answer?42

And Yet Still More... An Interview

15 questions with Young John

John, tell me about your childhood.

Well, Dennis that's hardly a question.

Jesus Christ John, give me a f---, you know what you're impossible. Fine. John, tell me about your childhood, was it a happy one QUESTION MARK?

Sorry, I had no idea you had such low blood sugar... Testy... Ok, well happy? Sure Dennis it was relatively happy, what little of it made any impression at all on me.

Ok... What's the one thing you remember most about your mother?

Dennis...?

Yes, John?

Why do I have to remember anything about my mother, She's still alive...

I apologize John I'm just trying to add a little drama. Work with me here.

Okay... My mother sings a lot. Used to sing, I suppose I mean. She has a terrible voice and absolutely no pitch, but she insists on singing every song that pops into her head, it's ridiculous. In the car, the shower, in cue at the grocery store, with her mouthful, when you say "Good Morning Cindy" Non sto--

JOHN!

Sorry...

What did you want to be when you were a young boy?

Dennis, young is a state of mind, but I suppose when I wasn't as far on in years I always saw myself as a father figure. The job I had never occured to me, I just always knew that I wanted to put food on my loving family's table...

That's good shit John, Jesus I hope i have to tape recorder on... ok, next question, Who's your biggest inspiration?

There are a few, I suppose. Drew inspires me to go to church, Maggie inspires me to be more open minded, and we know there's always that special someone that inspires me to wake up each day and take that first breath. That person that reminds you that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. That person that quiets my mind so i can finally stop thinking and obsessing and worrying and get some sleep so I can start all over again...And Joe inspires me to never drink more than I can handle 'cause who hasn't driven that jerk home.

John, How is she doing?

I didn't come here to talk about her I came here to help you with you assignment

Yeah, but John, How is she, be honest.

Fine, I don't know good, I guess, why?

I just thought about her. I saw DR the other day and I was just wondering about her and him and what she decided-

LISTEN, I don't want to talk about it. It's hardly my business to even ask her let alone to run my mouth to you.

ok, sorry... What is your favorite word?

What the hell- what kind of crap is this?

I'll ask the questions thank you. James Lipton, Inside the Actors Studio. Focus John.

Fine.. um... Bolox.

What?

James Lipton asks every guest what their favorite CURSE word is, and mine happens to be BOLOX

Fine, Who'd you take in the Ravens/ Dolphins game?

DENNIS

What? I have to fill out my sheet and I hate taking that teams you take.

You are a moron of epic proportions. This interview is officially over-

C'mon, I only have like 12 more question Young!

No absolutely not

Well can I botch your response to the rest of them?

Whatever Dennis, I'm going to the bar. She'll be there tonight if you want to ask her your 20 impertenant, obnoxious, invasive questions.

I'm game.

Your Optimus Prime and my Lion-O can drink Kool- Aid Together

The Coming Home of Young John, A Split Expedition

She happened to glance over the wall to see him sitting there, quietly, alone. She imagined what face might greet hers if she could see his, but his head was bowed. Before she knew what she was doing, his name formed on her lips.

But she caught herself in the breath and the heartbeat just before one does the very thing one wants to do. She regarded their present proximities aznd situations quickly and with great alacrity of mind. She paused to breathe and then saw what she never expected from Young.

A cross here, a small prayer, another cross. Young in prayer?

He smoothed the napkin on his lap she had allowed to go unnoticed in her first sight of him. He opened his turkey club on wheat with hunger in his heart. With that hunger he sensed her and looked with a smile. Embarassed for the stupid look glazed over her face, she gave a small wave and resumed her seat beyond the protective wall.

Young thought to himself, "What a beautiful smile"

*****************

She entered the house only to find him asleep on the couch. Curled up in a fleece throw, Cinderella emblazened across it, she shook her head. She gave him on long look and remembered why she was out in the first place.

He awoke with a start, "Hey babe, how's Lisa doing?"

His sleepy voice and startled nature gripped her slightly when she remembered who she was out with and why she had lied in the first place, "Lisa's fine. Go to bed"

"Ok" where Young would normally make a conversation, she cut him to the end. Where he would typically put his arm on her shoulder and help her out of her coat, she was presently hanging the hanger on the cool steel bar. Where he would kiss her on the forehead and carry her up the stairs to make love to her he remembered he never did that in the first place.

And he remembered why she was lying in the first place but forgot why he didn't atleast try for her affections and attentions in the first place.

And now they were both assuming last place, while she slipped her slivery foot gracefully into the bath she drew while her was remembering and he took up the flannel sheets on their double bed.

Thus ended another long day for Young John; A day in two parts and more than completely unequalled and unimportant.

She wakes and takes her place in line

13.
13..
13...

Hmm... 13 Insights into My Soul.

1. If given the chance, I would eat a key lime in some form every day of my life.

2. I hate socks, but I hate the lining of my shoes worse.

3. Pantyhose and I are on a strictly one-night-stand basis. (My mother, for the first time in recorded history, read over my shoulder and did nothing but giggle for a minute straight about how true this really is)

4. I consider my political views to be conservative, even though I am biased to the gays and the immigrants.

1. The former will help control our population boom.
2. The latter will do the job I'm not particularly fond of for
little money and even less job security and no health care.
3. God told me to love everyone and let Him do the busy work.
4. We all were immigrants once.
5. Don't hate because their shoes are better.

5. I am not in the least worried that the above text may cause someone discomfort. In fact I hope it does. Because discomfort causes change.

6. I am secretly anal about that stupidest things: All of my pillow covers have to be facing the same way before Ican successfully call it a night, things that fit in the dooro f the refrigerator must be kept there, everything I possibly can I alphabetize... There are so many more. But I think it is just in an attempt to control SOMETHING in my life.

7. I have strange anxieties that I don't think anyone else deals with. For instance I can't eat a hot dog in public (don't ask), I hate food prep workers that wear plastic gloves improperly, I don't like to be even slightly chilly in public because my hands turn an unsightly purple, I hate forgetting peoples names... Another long list. By anxiety I don't mean that these things slightly annoy me, I mean that on occasion I have had to control a panic attack when moving through these simple life experiences.

8. I wish that I could beathe like a dolphin and stay in the water for 30 or more minutes at a time.

9. I think one day human evolution will truly actualize the whole marine mammal obsession I have.

10. I have never talked to anyone the way I speak to myself.

11. I spy on people using myspace... I guess thats not really an insight though seeing as I know you ALL do it so:

11a. I hate sci fi now as most of you know. But very few of you know that, when I was a child I had the same negativity towards The Smurfs, The Chipmunks, The Muppets (shudder), Scooby-doo, Fraggle Rock, Arthur, The skits in Mr.Rogers that included the puppets, Alf, Charlie Brown and anything Snoopy related, and Care Bears. The majority of these things I disliked on one principle: Animals whether stuffed or real didn't, and shouldn't, talk.

I did, however, approve of Babar the french royal elephant, Thundercats, the Berenstein Bears, the Dot collection (i.e. Dot and the Whale and Dot and Keto), and David the Gnome.

I like Thundercats because they were not animals, they were mythological hybrids. And I agree with mythological hybrids with historic faith.

As for Babar, A. He was French, and B. The books were narrated by third person omniscense which means that literarally speaking, the elephants themselves didn't speak. Not to mention, Babar was freakin royalty.

In the Dot series, the only human that could understand the whales, dolphins, penguins, Moby Dick, the Crab, Keto, the seahorses, the sharks,etc. was Dot. Which means they were communicating, not speaking clear english. And an intuitive connection with certain aspects of nature is a God given talent. The same is applied to David, not to mention he himself is a mythological creature.

I was young and I don't know what I was thinking about the Berenstein Bears. I think intitially I was drawn to the very pun that was their last name, and I stuck around for the innocent fun. But I swear, I never inhailed.

12. I do not, under any circumstances give creedance to this preposterous idea many of you have about Dinosaurs. They didn't exist. Get over it.

13. And finally, everyone, in my opinion, should be required to be able to read, write, utilize arithmatic, speak 3 languages fluently, ballroom dance properly, curtsy and bow, and play some sort of instrument well by the time they graduate High school. If Jane Eyre could do all of that while fighting off tuberculosis and living on gruel and fetid water, we should atleast attempt in the day and age of motorcars, air conditioning, anti bacterial soap, and Lean Cuisine.

I think I have acheived what I set out to do, and that, my friends was share.

Now run along:


I don't feel myself today
Just a figure in a big monopoly game
Struggle is the price you pay
You get just enough just to give it away
I'm sinking but I'm floating away
Throw me a line so I can anchor my pain
The fabric is about to fray

A tribute: I find hope in the beating breast

I find hope that gives me rest

I had no desire to love her. No desire to hold her. No real need for her slightly deformed beauty in my life. So I pulled her closer. Like I had done for days now.

We sat and thought and rarily talked because frankly the sound of her voice frightened me. I thought that, if I could sleep, I wouldn't think of her so much. I would hold her warmth next to mine and close my eyes and see the beauty I was searching for.

But it never happened that way. I was never transported in my waking dreamlike state to a place where the one I really longed to hold reappeared.

No. This one was skinny and beautiful and thought herself much more graceful and useful than she really was. She thought that when she gently leaned in and kissed my cheek that I were, in a way, melting for her. But the sighs I breathed were sorrowful and sour and full of a sad sensation. The sensation of loss. The stinging that comes when you know you ruined the only good thing you ever had.

But she seemed to enjoy it. When I would hold her, she would coo softly. When I would turn her forehead to kiss it gently and wait for a response she would search my face for an empty space and plow me over with a fresh dewey kiss.

It was nothing. It was nothing compared to her sweet naivety. To the moments when I would see the uncertainty in her eyes and reassure her with a kiss or a smile or just a wink or a tear. It was nothing compared to those breathless moments we spent together. There was no light behind her eyes. No youthful charm. No wisedom beyond her need.

It was nothing.

I had left the only thing that ever meant everything to me and ended up with nothing.

And even the resoulution in knowing that it was over and that it would never return didn't quiet my racing mind when I set to think about her for a while. I tried. I tried to lift my head and not think of her. I tried to draw breath and not dream of her. I tried to drive and not see her, sitting next to me, her soft brown hair awash in the gentle yellow wind of the sunshine, and her bright green eyes always searching, always asking, always looking to me to direct her to some far off deer or begging me to speak in a silent expression "I love you more than life and even that isn't enough!"

It isn't enough.

And I sleep and I dream and I see her now running from me, now fallen and hurt, now swimming in a tumultuous cerulean sea, now bent over a stream washing her feet with mud and laughing at the tadpoles, now chasing a small babe with blue green eyes as changing as the sea and a tight brow and large red cheeks and dusty brown hair and I think- Oh how I think- Is it real? Is this maybe the reality and perhaps the nightmares is this lonely thing I wake up to in my arms? This skin and bones dark woman I know well and hate as equally well?

But no.

Nothing could be so well. So true. So free.

Because I am Young John. And nothing was ever so good that I couldn't ruin it.

And, as I awake to the sad grey dim of the television set and shove her off of my weak chest; as my dreams fade and everything becomes all too real again, my hope dies.

Well the voices fall like timber, and the fear it pours like rain. And my heart is crushed to cinders underneath this kind of pain. There is no resolution when the revolution's dead so I'm left with no solution for the voices in my head.

A response.

This whole long, drawn out and really useless bit is initially a response to a stupid meaningless myspace message. But I couldn't send it. Like most incredibly truthful prose, it hurt too much and offered too much chance for me to capitalize by confirming my wish to send it.

So now it is just another useless speck on the World Wide Web for those few of you that stumble across it. But it means a world of hope for me. I hope you can feign to understand that this is real. This time there are no tricks. No poetry. No imagery. Just raw feeling and being and desire and exhaustion.

This is just me.

"I can't keep doing this. This myspace thing is worse than seeing you in person. I feel like I am out in the rain outside your window, freezing and naked and watching you in a warm glow of a fire.

I can't do this limbo anymore.

Please divorce me. Please let me go. Please let me stop wishing you well and pretending that I'm ok. I need to be given a chance to heal.

You are living your life as you always have; without regard or care for what is best for me. Please allow me to treat you with the same, deserved disdain as you do me.

You've already ruined me. No one will want me now. No one will be able to love me now that you've violated every part of my heart, soul and body. But atleast without you and this "marriage" I can love myself. Atleast when you've finally set me free I will be able to look myself in the mirror and pretend to like what I see.

This thing is ruining my life. Just give me a chance.

I know you don't care. I know you are living your life and being loved regardless of whether or not our divorce is final.

I can't even make new friends this way. I am such a wreck and I am so consumed by this it is ruining every chance I have of love and acceptance.

I threw my life away to be with you. Career, school. and as it turns out, my heart. You gave nothing. You failed in no way to yourself. You took and received and used me for what I would be. And now, at the end it is your turn to bow out and allow me to cry and tear my cloth and feel every feeling I have been holding back all of this time.

I felt when we were married that I was lucky to have made you believe that I could be all you wanted. And I could have been. If you really had wanted what you asked of me.

If you really wanted a loving, doting, intelligent wife. But you didn't. And I can't possible be your crack whore. Or a human punching bag. Or as toxic as a pack of cigarettes.

Please, if you have any humanity left in you after all of this, even if it is false, employee it to let me be. Throw me aside once and for all and give me a fighting chance to be whole. Alone, lonely, unloved, and uneeded. But whole none the less.

I will never love again. I will never have my own family, or adopt another's name as my own, or sleep contentedly with someone who I love greatly. I will never aspire to own land, run a business, or be anything more to anyone thn a colleague, friend, or fellow student.

But I have the right to do all of these things without you mocking me. Without you going around and seducing women while they get off on the fact that somewhere out there there is a woman who loved you more than life and still carries your name and the shame associated with being the woman you are not with. Not loving.

I have the right to not care about you social status. I have the right to a last name that suits me. I don't know what that name might be, but I have the right to keep it and make it a proud one.

I really thought your name would have been it for me. I really htought we would do it justice together and i could forget my orphan past and forget that no one would even properly claim me. I could forget the uncertainty of not having a proper family and we could build one together. But that hardly matters now.

No one will ever remember me. I will leave no legacy. I will not even preserve my family's pride. But it would be a better fate to be forgotten, than to be remembered as your fool of a wife who allows you to treat her as less than human."

I know it was long and teadious. But maybe you understand.

I'm sure I am quite lost.

Something irrelevant and obnoxious...

I was going to leave the general contents of this passage as a comment to a friends blog, but I got really excited and when I was done typing it looked more like a dissertation than a comment.

The Piano teacher has a blog, a delicious on at that and I was perusing her thursday Thirteen looking for some inspiration for my already late installment. She made a great poignant T13 about 13 things she wants to accomplish in 2008, a sort of rundown on resolutions.

Off topic, I have never made nor kept even one resolution, so to see someone aspire to 13 blow my tiny mind.

Anyhow, one resolution was to read more and with her sons. She went on to mention that the boys both have reading goals set by their schools.

To broach the subject before I broach it I will start by saying that her children are in elementary school, my least favorite stop on the gravy train of education. I was awkward as a prepubescent. I was atleast a foot taller, 2 times stronger, and 4 years ahead of my peers in intellect between the ages of 7 and 12. The combination of those facts mademy elementary- middle school years complete hell.

I was too bored in class to participate and too bored with the kids around me to have fun. I was just a big, imposing doof with nothing to do but read. And read I did. Anything. Textbooks, novels short stories, articles, etc, until I got migraines.

With that being said....

One of her boy's is assigned to read 15 books per month. Here was my immediate and unrefined response to that fact :

"15 books a month!!! I was a book worm as a kid and I never followed the D.E.A.R. guidelines they gave us- to keep up I would have been reading Goosebumps and Amelia Bedelia until I was 17!! I would seriously consider throwing a hissy fit about that 15 book a month goal- How are they supposed to be expected to read the classics in under 2 days!! Maybe I'm over excited, but I can't even feel comfortable with putting away an OK magazine after just two days of reading and processing what I've read...."

Truth be told, I was reading 12 grade material in 5th grade. When they attempted to place me in advanced reading, our first assignment was "the Hobbit" I to this day despise Sci Fi books, especially those that involve alternate universes and things like trolls (excepting ONLY the CS Lewis series.) So I refused to read the Hobbit. They took my refusal as a sign of lacking intelligence, rather than as a sign of a maturity in taste and desire.

My point is, the educational system has lost it's purpose. Instead of being there to support and educate our youth, it is there in enforce rule and make sure everyone has a "fair playing field." Children who cannot keep up are pushed ahead and those that are ahead are ostrisized and turned into lazy idiots.

Had I been fostered properly in elementary school who knows where a better education would have lead me. But when I refused to stop talking because I already knew how to balance equations I was sent to detention instead of moving forward in my studies. When I finished my tests early I was told to put my head down and wait instead of being pushed to acheieve the next level of the course.

I watched friends struggle with simple reading and writing activities in 12th grade and peer evaluated my classmates who couldn't add and subtract without a calculator.

My teachers goal was to give everyone a fair education and to pass everyone through a standardizing testing window. Even in Advanced classes (which I was not allowed to apply for untill I was in my Junior year of high shcool) our teachers repetedly told us that we were not to learn about science, math, econ, history, and english, but instead the goal of the class was to prepare us to pass a test.

All of which I passed where my childhood friends failed, wasting time and money on tests they were never prepared for.

They were simply moved through the system like the rest. Given every opportunity to be lazy, slow and unaccomplished, and no real chance to flourish.

All because of pre-determined 5th grade reading levels and the No Child Left Behind statutes of this great state.

Young John Yet Again

"But you're just a girl"

"That's hardly my fault." She wiped another tear from her face and smeard it on my coat sleeve. We'd been drinking and smoking and laughing and crying all night and we'd come to the conclusion that neither one of us wants to bring a girl child into the world.

But she hardly minded being a girl. They only slightly battered her throughout the years and she had held my own. Sure, she was either obsessed over or cast aside, a dangerous rope to walk, but considering her natural akwardness and her untamed youth, she made it out relatively unscathed.

If there were a mirror of true beauty in my eyes, I would show her face to the world.

But there never was.

We took another shot at our cigarettes and realized that they had both burnt out. She towered over me when she stood and I could see her wobbling out of her all too high heels. I stood in time to steady her and lead her to the car.

Another long night. Another wasted tear. And I loved her even more with the mascara running down her face and her heals kicked off in my Camry, whispering "I wish every man could be like you, Young" in the freezing darkness. In the cool yellow street light her words shown on her face as we drove away and she dosed off to forget that we'd ever cried or laughed or dreamed or drank.

I think it's ironic that you mark Single on your myspace but you're really married.

I'm feeling quite dettached.

I am Usless, ut not so much as you.

I argue and fight, but you have no wounds.

I hate, but I cry.

I mean nothing to you but I'm the enemy.

Money is a cruel hard joke the weak play on the strong.




-

MEETING MY DEADLINES

Like a good student.

Here's my T13. Read em and weep. Or laugh, I guess it's all perogative.

13 reasons why I need a vacation:

1. I can't stay awake without a Grande Triple Mocha with two pumps Almond and Caramel sauce add whip

2. I have no time during the week to do my piano homework.

3. My fake dundalk nails look for serious screwed up

4. I like going to the gym. Without having to get up at 5:30 AM.

5. I miss Baby Stacey.

6. I need to apply for College.

7. I need to call Jeff and tell him that I applied.

8. I need to get divorced.

9. I have library books that are 6 months late. I am sick of the Hate mail from the BCPL.

10. I would like to take a vacation for about 6 months during indoor volleyball season to coach.

11. There's a crack in my windshield less than a week after I got my car back from the shop. (which took 3 weeks and 2400 dollars more than anticipated)

12. I owe 13.43 people dates.

13. I want to be a real live 21 year old girl!!!

I hope this all atleast made some sense. To those of you that work two jobs, or have kids, or go to school I'm sure you understand.

Another Week Old-Eh

Something of no consiquence to much of anyone in particular, my Thirteen favorite songs for this week. As always in no real order than that of disorder:

1. Poem, Taproot, Welcome

2. Peice of Me, Britney Spears, Blackout

3. In the Middle, Jimmy Eat World, Bleed America

4. Firecracker, Josh Turner, Everything is Fine

5. Stop this Train, John Mayer, Continuum

6. Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered, Ella Fitzgerald, Pal Joey

7. If, Dean Martin, Dino: The Essential Dean Martin

8. I don't wanna be in Love, Good Charlotte, Good Morning Revival

9. Thnks fr th Mmrs, Fall Out Boy, Infinity on High

10. Gotta Get Through This, Daniel Beddingfield, Gotta Get Through This

11. Absolutely Zero, Jason Mraz, Tonight, Not Again: Jason Mraz Live at The Eagles Ballroom

12. Gone to The Movies, Semisonic, Feeling Strangely Fine

13. Getting Into You, Relient K, Two Lefts Don't Make a Right

I hope you like it. On second thought and more typically me, I don't really mind either way. It was good for me.

Eat Love Pray and a few more verbs

A good friend of mine is reading through Elizabeth Gilbert's "Eat Love Pray" and we are both benefiting.

My friend/ coworker is a fellow "Lesbian Fat girl club" (for those of you that don't know, don't ask. And yes, we get to wear hats) She is also a fellow woman who is strong and young and pretty and has dreams and wants things to go right for once. She's not a christian, she doesn't eat meat and we disagree on a number of things other than that but when it comes right down to it, we are pretty close.

She is going through a long and drawn out split from her tragic booyfriend which reminds me much of my own station in life at this particular time. We have been complaining to one another about sleepless nights lately. Of missing our collective "hiim"s. Of our respective loves moving on and living fruitful lives without us and leaving us to clean up the mess they made out of our lives.

After reading a particular passage in Ms. Gilberts book, the two of us just looked at eachother and laughed. It's a great page long explanation of how we loose ourselves and give of ourselves to our mates to the point that our own self and desires and personality are extinct.

About how we would give of our time, money, our dogs time, our dogs money, the sun the rain and, when those would not do, sunchecks and rainchecks and love and peanut butter and jelly and sex and poems and brains and silence and music and all those other things one is or is not even entitled to will away to another person.

We laughed because we understood. We laughed because we knew that's what we'd done. We laughed to erase the thoughts of how pathetic we were. We laughed because we realized now that we were owed all those things we so carelessly gave to someone else. We laughed to save ou sanity and excercise our vocal chords. We laughed to keep from crying and beating ourselves up.

Another, less poetic outlet I have settled on for my pent up heart break and feeling of loneliness and faliure is the new delicious Britney Spears album. It's all about sex and desperation and regrets and I love it. Because it has no depth. Because it is so desperate. Because in my mind Britney's a real person with real feelings who might just be disapointed in herself and her choices. And now she's trying to figure out what she wants. Without all of her clothes on. Poor thing.

Poor me. Cheer's to poetry, music and the art of desire.

CHEATING

BUT I COULDN'T RESIST.

Here's my Thursday Thirteen for Yesterday. Ever since I heard about this fantasical idea of making up a list of thirteen things for no reason and every reason, I had to jump on the bandwagon. We're now listening to crazy riding tunes like "pump up the Volume" and talking about things that happened "back in the day" if you want to join us...

THURSDAY THIRTEEN:

THIRTEEN THINGS THAT I WOULD NEVER CHANGE ABOUT MY LIFE. IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER.

1. My new, huge, gorgeous tattoo.

2. The time, though small, that I was given to get to know my grandmother.

3. My crazy work schedule. Which I am altering slightly thruogh sheer exhaustion.

4. Mr. Hamster and that whold period in my life.

5. Working in Radio.

6. Taking spelling in Elementary school.

7. Reading Isaiah and Joshua about 13 times through and in and out.

8. Going to a ghetto high school and meeting the most amazing, interesting, strange, funny influential people I will ever know.

9. Getting married to the idea of a man that my husband was supposed to turn out to be.

10. Taking off the wedding ring and being alive now to tell the tale and help other women and men in my position.

11. My dream to someday write a best selling book about my life and the lives of those funny, interesting, influential characters.

12. My best friend. And I won't name him here but he knows who he is and what he has done for me and that forever isn't long enough :)

13. My Name. No matter how many times it changes itself, I will hold true in my mind to what it is.

I don't care if it was good for you, that was good for me.

MORE Misadventures of Young John

"But Dude" he inserts a dramatic pause here to take a long drag of his Marlboro Medium and blow out the excess from the side of his crooked, perfect mouth. Resuming his thought, "I'm getting divorced"

I don't know why he was so surprised by his own admission. Had he never thought about it before now? Had he forgotten since he arrived here? Did he think I wouldn't understand what he meant by 'divorce'?

'If you're not the one' by Daniel Beddingfield, one of my men you must listen to and love, started running through my mind at the final difficult breath of his admission to misery.

Oh Johnny, if you only knew.

If you only knew that I understand completely. If you only knew how empty I feel when I look down at my naked ring finger. If you only knew that I know what it's like to wake up and wonder where your life has gone. I know what it's like to be facing the option of "single, married, divorced" on your myspace and wondering which one is right. Wondering when you're going to be let go from this limbo.

"I'm not Single"
Said Not-So-Young John

"I'm not Married"
Said John with a sigh

"I'm not divorced"
He let go of his last most painful breath

I'm not anything either, Young John.

Simple pleasure...

Having a dream about something silly... a nose bleed, a car accident, a package... And then having all of those things come true and spending the next week thinking you are a psychic.

I thought I was above it,

But I'm not. I hate you. There I said it.

I hate you and everything you stand for.

I hate marijuana and I hate rebels and I hate tax evaders.

I hate professing, un practicing Christians.

I hate fakes and phonies. I hate lies and decietful behaviours.

I hate uncouthed individuals with clean hair and dirty minds. I hate people who refuse to brush their teeth. I hate people who consistantly eat after 10 pm. I hate people who answer the phone before 6 am. I hate you and your arian looks. And your manicured nails with the oil stains still lingering, embedded in the nail.

I hate people who don't believe in heating and cooling units. I hate communists and purists and doomsday sayers. I hate people who read the wind and the trees and the birds and the snow and the dogs. I hate people with more rifles than cars. I hate your trainwreck of a house that should have never been fixed up and your ghetto fabulous stables and gyms and farming equipment.

I hate "republicans" who don't agree with war, even though at it's very root it causes the society a great upheaval in goods and jobs.

I hate pe4ople who threaten other people. I hate people who could dream of disowning someone for who they loved or thought they loved or pretended to love. I hate people who beat would beat or might beat their children. I hate people with severe self hate. And Eating disorders.

Everything.... Just everything.

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO WHO WHO

Who are you? WHO are you? WHO ARE you? Who are YOU? Who're you?

Who are you to assume that you know anything about my life and time and the things i wirte about and the truths or lies or fantasies i own? Who are you to assume authority when replying to things I write or think or say or do?

To answer your comment, I say that i am sincere and transparent because i can say whatever I want about myslef. I can mean it or not I can lie or tell the truth I can mimic or be original. BECAUSE THIS IS MINE. THIS BLOG IS MINE. THIS LIFE IS MINE.

Stop trying to take this away from me!

I have made up my mind and that is what my last blog was all about. Admitting my faults. Saying that I am wrong and that i hate myself for it. Admitting weakness and room to grow and be free.

I do- forever. I will forever love and forever be me and forever eat turkey sandwiches. All of which are life and nothing all at once. Forver means Forever. And that is all. i will forever love those I choose to love whether or not I choose to allow them to ruin me or not is up to me and God.

I hold truth to all that i say because it is my feelin gs and my feelings are true. i am allowed to truthfully feel cheated and guilty and sad and free and happy and persecuted and loved all at the same time. and all are true whether they are in oposition or not. AND YOU CANNOT TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME! And he cannot take that away from me. Even God cannot tell me when and how to feel.

My words have value. TO ME. I value my freedom to speak and wirte and sing. I trade in the currency of words everyday for new feelings, ideas and beings. I value my opinion and that is all this is about.

STOP TRYING TO JUDGE ME.

Or else I will just die and make your life as mundane and useless as you see mine.

Simple Pleasure

Turkey Sandwiches. With Mayo. And Bacon.

SIMPLE PLEASURE

Piano lessons.

YES... but why?

YES... I love you.

YES... I miss you.

YES... I hate the thought that you might move on and forget that I ever existed.

YES... I feel guilty hoping to see an image of you, curled up in a corner, calling out my name in a psychotic break.

YES... I wish you didn't suck.

YES... I feel guilty for not sticking by you and helping you.

YES... I'm more happy to be alive and unburdened than I am guilty.

YES... I walk around terrified that at any moment you may pop up and try/ kidnap me and hide me away in a mountainside.

YES... I dream about you every night. Most of which are horrifying nightmares. But thats nothing new.

YES... I cry myslef to sleep most nights.

YES.. I cried more when I was with you and suffered more at your hand than any time in my life before or since.

YES... without your love I feel dirty, ugly, and, well, "Certified Pre- owned"

YES.. . I do certain actions with the hopes that you may find out and be crushed.

YES... I feel guilty for all of those moments as well.

WHY? Because I truly loved you whether you ever gave me a second thought or not. Because I was tricked by the devil himself into attaching myself to you. Because I wanted to be enough for both of us. I wanted to love you enough and keep you safe from drugs and your family and my family and the world and I know now that I was asking too much. Because I am not an angel or God or even a princess. I have no control or even ability to contribute to your hapiness. Because the sex really was that good, even if it was my first consentual experience. Because I have been told my whole life that no one would ever want me and I was blind when you said you might. Because I had a plan. Because I have people who expect things from me and I couldn't handle the pressure. Because I liked having someone to hold me at night... that is when you were home and didn't smell like stale beer and weren't mad at me for some uncontrollable reason. Because I meant it when I said I do forever.

I'M SORRY... for being so sincere and transparent. I wish I were able to lie or be deviant like you. Then maybe this wouldn't feel like this.

The whole truth and nothing but

Just thought you might like to know that I am not a liar.

Nor did I ever promise to devulge everything here. So quit looking for everything and just enjoy the music.

Music is real and true whether you like it or not.

Just because you say it's so...

Have you ever heard someone say "Pratice makes perfect?"

It's a lie. PERFECT practice makes perfect.

Just like the saying "Only two things in life are constant: Everyone dies, and everyone pays taxes"

LIES. I could live in the jungle with the animals and eat like a venus fly trap and never pay taxes. or die before I ever paid and then I would beat the system. And there are a many things in life just as true as death. Like blood and rain and chocolate and touch.

So stop lieing and tricking a too well trusting world.

I feel...

Dopey.
Tired.
Weather- beaten.
Cold.
Like Singing.
a little life-drunk.

My simple pleasure for today?
Sleeping alone and knowing that it's the right thing to do.

My secret?
Prayer. Every moment... "when sorrows like Sea billows Roll"

My new Favorite song?
"Not to far from Here"

Best thing to do with my fingers?
Tinkle the ivories.

It can only get better from here.

And, like Dane Cook Says, "I Did my Best."

As crude as it may seem...

I will do what i wish to do with my blog.

I WILL comment your comments and blog your comments and talk about your comments and maybe even publish your comments in the FOR SALE section of the Carroll County Times.

Back off, stepy mcgee. You're part of MY show now.

What was said after the down fall of Roma...

"Well, I hardly know where to begin.
As I am sure you all well know, He and I have been separated for two weeks now. But as you can imagine, we have struggled through much more time and effort to get to this point. I was, to say the least, especially surpised that you would contact me now that we are having such troubles, but I can only attribute it to everyone's desires for our well being and happiness.
I thank you for this opportunity to share in this experience with you, but I regret to inform you of my true feelings that keep me from this endeavor. Rather than waste everyones time and effort, or in a worse case, rather than join the effort with an unsure heart, I must decline a project that would require me to work so closely with Him and you for such a long amount of time.
While I dealry love you son and have prayed for him, he has allowed such transgressions against my person that I no longer wish to sustain contact with him. He has gambled away more than $1,500 of our money, he has become unmanagable in his alcohol abuse, I suspect him of unfaithfulness among other troubles and I believe that only intensive therapy can help him fight the demons he faces.
I am sorry that I didn't tell you everything when we spoke, but I honestly felt in my heart that he and I could work everything out. As a matter of fact, the night that I recieved your phone call, I left work early to return to our apartment for the first time in two weeks. To make a long story short, when I got there I was not greeted by my husband, but by two prostitutes and an older gentleman weilding crack pipes. You can only imagine my sorrow when He did finally show only to be irrate with his guests for allowing me to enter my own apartment and while cursing his new "friends" for giving him a wrong house number. He said he was on his way to pick up one of their friends, but you can imagine what I believe him to have been looking for.
Someone needs to speak to him. He is more than out of control. He's lost. I know your first reaction is to blame me or my family or our lifestyle. But I assure you, I have done nothing but help him and bare with his insecurities, his wild behavior, and his inconsistancy.
My mother has helped us get his beloved Jeep and pay our rent most of the time while he stole from me and everyone we knew. I have spent many nights alone, wondering if he were safe, only to find him in the downstairs apartment with a known drug dealer and felon. To say that I have not tried to help him would accuse me of never loving him. If I didn't love him, none of this would hurt me to say or to live through.
We have all encouraged him in his strengths and helped him find a job that suits him. We have done nothing but praise his efforts and ultimately overlooks his challenges.
He has promised me the world time and time again, but I don't want the world. Or Greatness. Or Wealth. I just pray for his safety and the deliverance of His peace upon my husband.
Please, take good care of him. Get him professional help. Whether it be a therapist, a drug counselor, a pastor... anything. I wouldn't wish what I have suffered with him on anyone, that is why I suggest you not be alone with him in his time of need. Professionals are trained to help people develop the skills they need while not being hurt by their actions in the end.
I am sorry. I am sorry that I couldn't save him, but ultimately, I can't make the decisions he needs to make for himself. He has to want to be a good and righteous man before he will even here what I want for him.
God Bless, and should you need to contact me, don't be hurt if I don't answer the phone. After all of our financial troubles, I may have to turn it off for a week or so, but I can always reach a computer. I don't even know how to tell you to contact your son. I don't know the company he keeps or where he is, for all I know he's with you now, reading this.
With Love-
A broken hearted Mrs"

To those of you that never knew, I loved him through all of this and more than you could imagine. I believe that to have been my strength and this, my solitude and reflection, my weakness.


"Feeling . . . clamoured wildly. “Oh, comply!” it said. “. . . soothe him; save him; love him; tell him you love him and will be his. Who in the world cares for you? or who will be injured by what you do?” Still indomitable was the reply: “I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself. I will keep the law given by God; sanctioned by man. I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, and not mad—as I am now. Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation . . . They have a worth—so I have always believed; and if I cannot believe it now, it is because I am insane—quite insane: with my veins running fire, and my heart beating faster than I can count its throbs.”

OH CHARLOTTE!

The Misadventures of Young John

Young John read outloud what she had written. "dreams that are nothing and realities that are dreams.... fascinating" He marveled and mused a minute as he pulled her close to him and whispered these utterances and findings and fascinations.

She awoke with a great start. Still half falling, half limb less, she grasped at the air for an alarm that never existed. He handed her the paper and she read aloud about dreams and realities and nothingness.

They paused, both there, both feeling, both in existance. And wondered.

"All motion, including the expansion of the universe, is the result of a disturbance of equilibrium."- Someone smarter than I or Young John.

I will find peace

Strong? Me? How could you think that i were strong? If I were, I wouldn't have bothered with him. If I were strong like you think, I would have been much more content to sit and wait and wish.

I would have kept on looking or ignoring the love I thought I wanted until it found me and sprung upon me a great peace, rather than the tumultuos deluge the last 2 years have turned out to be.

If I were strong i would have found contentment in the peace of knowing he wasn't for me, rather than chasing him down and forcing him to lie about what he was and who he needed.

Granted i have avoided a greater failing. I have performed preventative maintenance on my life and found a temporary repreive. I can sigh relief for a moment in knowing that things can only get better.

But if I were strong, I would never have had cause to regret whom I chose to give my life to.

Something waiting

i sit here iwth so much to do and sleep in my eyes. waiting. I sit here driving, thinking, crying, laughing, working, waiting. I walk, I talk I sing, I skip, I wait.

I wait for deliverance. I wait for paitence, I wait for understanding.

I wait to the line to move, I wait for the right time, I wait for a drink at the bar.

I wait for the most important things and the most simple things and the mind boggling things and the crazy things.

I wait for the mail, I wait for the water to boil I wait for the music to start.

But I don't wait for you. You ran past me in a blur and you were so indistinguished and unkempt and loud and sad and unneccessary.

And I don't wait for you.

One more thing...

My simple pleasure for today?

Hanson.

This is all just a bad dream... This is all just a bad dream... This is all just a bad dream...

I had a thought that ran through my brain and exhausted me last night.

I realized that i have been waiting to wake up.

"The last three years were just pretend."

I go to bed every night, praying that I can find so relief in the reality of dreams and i wake up every morning to the same ol' same ol'. I wake up thinking "today is a new day. Everything is behind me. All the really horrible things never really happened" I wander around all day in a haze, trully believe the crap I sold myself upon waking. And then it hits me. All at once, like a ton of bricks. Nothing is over. Nothing is resolved. Nothing makes any sense yet.

Screw Reality.

Wrong side of the world...

I definatly woke up angry this morning. I wish I could blame it on sleeplessness but I slept until 11 yesterday. BECAUSE I COULD. Becasue I couldn't think or talk or listen any more and I had to find time alone somehow.

This Fing sucks. I just want you all to know that. He sucks, what he's done sucks, how I feel sucks.

OK. Screw this. No more sucking. There's this local radio station tha does soemthing called "Simple Pleasures" The DJs will talk about easy fun nice things that make them smile and then they will take phone calls. I'm going to do this from time to time to remind myself that even if your husband is a dirty drunk who gambles away your life and then stuffs whats left of your money into a crack pipe and some dirty whore's unmentionables, there's still a silver lining to life.

My simple Pleasure:

Clean underwear.

Ghosts, Memories and Wishes

I wish I could tell all of you who are too eager to await the book what is really going on in my life.

I wish I could sit down with each and every person in my life now or who was ever in my life or who ever wanted to be in my life and tell you all what I think and feel and want.

To tell you what I have lost and sacrificed and left and been cheated out of. I wish I could tell you and you could hold me. And then you would tell me how much more I deserve out of life and that everyone makes mistakes. You would tell me of how much you valued me and how much I helped you or entertained you or made an impression on you.

You could whisper to me and cry with me and laugh with me and make me feel whole. But I can't and you can't and so here I am. Shit in one hand and a wish in the other as some may say.

I can't ask you to believe what I have been through. I can't write it or speak it or tell you in a hushed tone on the back porch with you old black lab licking your feet. I can't because I gave you up a long time ago and you are one of those things that never belonged to me any how.

Not that you ever whispered to me or held me or needed me. You were one of the type to sit across the room and watch me laugh and it would make you smile to see me happy. You were the one to watch me be kissed and revel in the glory of the peace I felt. You were the one to catch a glimpse of a sparkle in my eye and imagine that I were indeed a diamond myself.

Had I ever had any claims to you it was that of your grace and leniency of my faults. My quirks and unsavory bits and pieces you always forgave and they were to you proof that I was human and therefore worthy of your protection.

I say protection with authority, for everything you did you did to help me. You, I believe would have held me and kissed me and done all those things I need so badly now had you thought it would ultimately do me any bit of good. But you saw what was coming and you knew what was best, you in your silent and patient watchfulness knew how to gauge when to pick me up and when to let me fall.

So this is to you who let me fall and to you who pick me up. To you who come near and to you who wait in the wings. To you who praise me and embrace me openly and to you who secretly pray for me every night. To you who love me loudly and softly.

Desperado

I just want to scream, kick, and throw a fit.

Is that too much to ask?

I want to cry alone and close the curtains and sleep all day. and right now I want to watch Big Love.

A Rethought

She begins her session again, this time cautiously, knowingly. She sees the familiar but vague looks in his eye as she assumes the possition for complete lift off...

"What if they're not dreams?" Stumbling, she speaks out.

"they who?" Dumbfounded, he fumbles through. He never was very deep.

"what if my dreams aren't dreams? what if--"

"AHHHH, But if they are not dreams than what are they?" His fake British accent is so overwhelming he starts at the sound of his own voice. Won't make that mistake twice.

"I don't know... Maybe the dreams are the realities and the realities are the dreams..."

"What realities??" he picks up his pen, crosses his leg and begins to draw a familiar face, on a sheet of paper that also houses his grocery lists and other important things.

"What if the apartment... the car.... the love of my life... the hapiness, is all just a dream and the realities are just one big jumble?"

"Oh!... Jumbles..." he mumbles as his mind is distracted with the thought of his word jumble left undone on the kitchen table. He adds it's completion to his "to-do" listb as she drowns out his other, more important thoughts...

"What if it's all just... nothing?"

Then she fell. Flat on the floor. The room grew dark and he was gone and the alarm did not sound and the lists and jumbles and pictures and couch and chair and eerything were gone.

And she did not move, because she didn't know if her legs were gone too.

Feeling a little voulnerable....

"Lately, I have been having these crazy dreams"

She syas, as she lays down on the oh-so- oevrused and over stuffed red velvet couch..

"mhmmm..." he replies, with a look in his eye that denotes a thoughtfulness she attributes to the grocery list she believes him to write every session.

"Dreams about everything. Everything from kids to marijuana, to my husband, and my old friends and magical happenings, and being in love, and missing people. Dreams that should be my real life but they're just dreams--- dreams that i wish I never saw-- dreams I wish I could relive"

"ahh, I see" Lemonade... Tomatoes... Diapers...

"and I can't help but think about them..." she holds her breath and shakes her head, her newest tick to banish their memory...

After a long pause, he thinks it best to mention " And how does that make you feel?"

" lonely... But I'm not, I'm so happy, so content.... but I can't help feeling-- when I'm having these dreams.... an overwhelming sense of loneliness... like I'm trapped in another universe and I can only see them, I can't reach them..."

"my... thats complicated..." Milk...Bacon...Potting Soil...

"So what do they mean?'

"they who?"

"They the dreams- why can't I get all of these ghosts to stop haunting me?"

Her time is up. He slowly stretches to turn off the alarm, and leaves her with one last thought :

"I'm not involved in the paranormal"

And she wakes, startled by the reality of her messy room in her tiny apartment, on the wrong side of town.

a comment on a comment...

THE COMMENT

Boy it's very conceited of you to think that the blog entry was about you unless of course you are portraying some of those characteristics. examples conniving, deceiving, fake, pompous, placating, phony.... I could go on listing adjectives but I'm sure you get the picture. So in closing, I guess you could say that I find it interesting that someone would get offend over pure Internet nittter- natter, that may or may not even pertain to them.


THE REFLECTION:

RULE NUMBER ONE: NEVER USE SOMEONES FIRST NAME IN A BLOG, COMMENT, POST, OR ANYTHING.

I work VERY hard to spare anyone of direct exposure, please respect me in the same way. The next time someone puts my first name out there like that IN MY OWN BLOG WHEN I DON'T EVEN DO IT, I will have to start breaking things... It's just the rules.

In direct comment to your mention of internet nitter-natter, I find it hard to believe myself. Why must people constantly take what they read and turn it into something its not? Why should someone use my poetic prose, whether positive or negative, to badger me. Ask questions, engage in meaningful conversations, by all means, get involved. But don't be mean. Thats just not fair.


TO CONTINUE

I have a hard time thinking of myself negatively; I would rather believe that I used my powers of perception to deduce that terribly difficult mystery.


And on another note, I would imagine that what you have to say about me (OR ABOUT WHOMEVER YOU WERE TRUELY REFERENCING IN YOUR IRRATIONAL AND HYPOCRITICAL RANT) is more of a reflection on your total lack of control and immaturity than it is a true representation of the person your were dipicting.

The post that appeared on your myspace didn't really include any of those adjectives that you took the time to thesaurus either, so I'm a little confused about your comment. All your post depicted was how ANGRY you were with WHOMEVER and how YOU wished YOU could express your anger in a way that would negative affect the person your were persecuting.


I ALSO BELIEVE that it is unfair of you to further attack me when all I had to say was positive and affirming of my own self esteem, rather than attacking or demeaning your person (accepting only my slant against your grammatical and spelling errors, which I suppose you could see as negative, unless you actuall took my advice WHICH I THINK WE ALL CAN TELL YOU DID BY YOUR IMPROVED STYLE IN YOUR COMMENT-good job, by the way)

THE LOVE

You also mention God's plan for vengance in your post.

Let us all remember Leviticus 19: 16-18:

16 " 'Do not go about spreading slander among your people.
" 'Do not do anything that endangers your neighbor's life. I am the LORD.
17 " 'Do not hate your brother in your heart. Rebuke your neighbor frankly so you will not share in his guilt.
18 " 'Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against one of your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the LORD

As well as Romans 12: 17-21:

17Recompense to no man evil for evil. Provide things honest in the sight of all men.
18If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.
19Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.
20Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head.
21Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.

THAT IS ONLY if we are speaking of the smae God, The one true God who gives Grace to all and forgives all sins; the Lord Jesus Christ. If we have a different opinion of who God is, then by all means, disregard my biblical references; I apologize for any misunderstanding thereof.

AT ANY RATE

It all comes down to this. Life is hard enough. Quit being negative. Doesn't anyones mother preach "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all" anymore?

AND LET US CONFIRM OUR FAITH

ON A MUCH MORE POSITIVE NOTE:

1 Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. 2 Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. 3 For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. 4 When Christ, who is your[a] life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.
5 Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry. 6 Because of these, the wrath of God is coming.[b] 7 You used to walk in these ways, in the life you once lived. 8 But now you must rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. 9 Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices 10 and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator.

Colosians 3: 1-10

What?

THE FOLLOWING IS A POST FROM SOMEONES MYSPACE...
Someone as in not me. This is someone who obviously has a pretty poor opinion of me, not to mention a pretty poor grasp of grammatics and spelling. I just felt the need to share this. Some people enjoy complaining about the positive things that i have to say. Now it's time for me to complain about the negative things they have to say. Read on....


OCTOBER 14 2006

UMMMM.....
Current mood: bitchy


have you ever been so mad at some one that you wished they would just die.... or at lest leave you alone? well thats about were I am right now. This person (whom I will not say) I know she hates me and I hate her.... no.... scrach that I despise her. every since I've known her my life has been HELL. I can't stand her.....but I can't do anything about it. I can't hit her cause I will hurt her I can't dawm her to HELL cause thats not my place. The onlything I can do is take it like a woman but i wish i could just vent no one will lisen cause they think I am just being dramatic. What I came to grips with is that I am better than here thats why she pushes my buttons cause she knows it and she can't tie me down she has no controll over me and she knows it and it freekes her out.Two can play this game I will do something to her that will...(like the BITCH she is)....(female dag BITCH) run so fast with her tail between her legs and I will come out on top. ha ha ha she has no idea what I have in store for her she will have to always be looking over her shoulder cause I WILL get her back. GOD say evrything comes back ten folds good or bad....so ten fold is what it will be.

word to the wise DON"T PISS ME OFF cause I will come back after you stronger and harder ha ha ha he he he



TRY ME!
*********************************************

Why would someone be that negative? And why do they then have the right for further persecute me for my happiness???

I WONDER....

Oh Cal...

So I wet to get coffee the other morning, which was quite a feet in and of itself- The Daily grind that's closest to my office has, oh yes, 3 parking spots, then there's a delivery lane that 18 people always try to squish into between 8:10-*:14 in the morning. I tried to pull in and my mom kept nagging me about the "proper way to park in the delivery lane" and "not to hit other cars" So I told her I would drop her off and run BACK to the Daily Grind. Obviously I was a little more testy than neccesary due to my lack of caffinated beverage.

So I took mom to the office and came back to pick up my coffee, business as usual. "All fat hazelnut iced large latte, thank you" So I'm leaving right and then BAM!!! A HUGE BLACK TRUCK IS JUST SITTING THERE, PULLED IMPROPERLY INTO THE DELIVERY LANE. And guess who is in the huge black truck, talking on his tiny black cell phone?? THE AMAZING THE OUTSTANDING THE GORGEOUS AND OTHERWISE PERFECT--- CAL RIPKEN!!!!!!!!!!! So I smiled and my little heart started a-fluttering and he waved and the guy coming towards me in the parking lot who obviously did not see or recognize the venerable CAL RIPKEN looked at me like I was a flippin fruit loop.

Then I called my mom.
"MOM OMG GUESS WHO'S IN THE DELIVERY LANE OF THE DAILY GRIND?"
"I don't know but I sure hope you parked diagonally and didn't hit anyone"
"OMG MOM FOCUS I THINK CAL RIPKEN IS IN THE DELIVERY LANE AT DAILY GRIND"
"Listen I can't understand a word you're saying but so help me if you hit someones car---"

Now I had been whispering in a highly excited manner so as not to alarm the amazing Ripken. Now I started to get a little excited and shouted into the phone, in no uncertain terms "CAL RIPKEN IS IN THE DELIVERY LANE OF THE DAILY GRIND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Well, for heaven's sake get a picture of him!"
"OMG but mom what if it's not him what if he says no, he's on his cell phone what if i offend the great and all powerful Ripken"
"IF it is him he'll understand and if it's not so what you'll never see that guy again."

I rolled up next to his improperly parked huge black truck with my window rolled down and no sooner did I whip out the camera phoine did he remove the tiny black cell phone from the ear whence it was attached and udder the unforgettable phrase ....

"Cheese!!"

TO BE CONTINUED.....

She sighs, and with a huff cries A-PAR-HANT-LEE!!

So I fancied myself a poet with my last entry. I believed my brief descriptive poetic blurb in my last entry was not only self-gratifying, but capable of bringing those who truly love me, this city, or life a smile. Maybe not a full on, teeth bearing, say Cheese smile, but a soft thoughtful smile nonetheless.

BUT NO. A-PAR-HANT-LEE some people either

A) Really HATE Baltimore
OR
B) Cringe at the thought of me gaining anything from my life

A-PAR-HANT-LEE these people read my last blog and actually took nothing poetic or relaxed or really useful from it. They just got Angry. They just used it against me.

A-PAR-HANT-LEE they found some offense in my love of seagulls, and crab cakes, a malls, and the 695 Beltway. A-PAR-HANT-LEE they think maybe i should just be miserable. Maybe i should just forgo any happiness or light and transform myself into a thoughtless gnome.

WELL HERE'S A THOUGHT:

Leave me alone.
Get off my case.
If you have a complaint, file it in a box and throw that box in the ocean.

Actually you could just ship that box to me. I can hit the ocean from here.

(It really would take quite some time for your complaint to travel so far to the Atlantic from all the way up in the Mountains, Now wouldn't it???)

If you don;t like that thought i have another on for you, but you'll probably shirk this one off as well:

Call me and tell me you don't want me to be happy.
Call me and tell me that my references annoy, hurt or anger you.
Tell me, instead of badgering someone else. MYSIDEKICK

A-PAR-HANT-LEE, once again, I am not allowed to express my thoughts freely, so I have to use these veiled allusions (which people OFTEN TIMES take much too literally) to sned any messages.

And Boy, is this white child sick of people using her writing to interpret her life. People who don't take the time to even think to, oh I don't know TALK TO ME, are reading my blog, looking at my myspace, riffelig through my personal journals, and rooting through the proverbial garbage of my mind in order to garner some false sense of what I mgiht be thinking at any given time.

Can anyone really know what, in his most profound work, The Wasteland, Eliot meant by the verse:

THE river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf
Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind
Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.
Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,
Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends
Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed.
And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors;
Departed, have left no addresses.
By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept...
Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,
Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.
But at my back in a cold blast I hear
The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.

Can anyone really judge what her state of mind was when Charlotte Bronte set our to write Jane Eyre?

If you can, you would be the first, a true inside source. Surmise. Wonder. Philosophize. Discuss. Debate. Theorize. Hypothesize.

You could look at their history. Consider the evets in their life and what effect they might have had on their overall sensibility and opinion. You could look at their Zodiac sign and determine if they are an analytical thinker or a heart-lead feeler. You could sit for hours and ponder all the hidden messages. Or whether there was only on message. You could discuss their motifs, plot, setting, or theme. You could divine an answer with runes.

In short you could Guess.

But do you really know? Is it really fair to make the assumption and say with authority what is and isn't, what is meant and derived, what is said and what is omitted?

In truth, you do not know. Nor do you know or have any understanding.

STOP THE LIES.

Or just ask me. I'll tell you all my dirty secrets.

The clean ones you'll have to pay for.

Loving Arms

I went for a walk, barefoot and calm the other 70 degree day. Just another crazy winter for baltimore, I thought. the winter sun wrapped its unusually warm rays around me and I felt a calm I have not felt for almost a year.

I am home, and my city, She has opened her arms to me and delivered me to the foot of the sea, to be swallowed whole by all things maritime and beautiful.

A few of my favorite things

My husband thinks that I write about too many negative things and don't include enough positive ones. While everyone knows that writing is about expressing your feelings and being true to your self and all that jazz, I am going to bend to his will just this once and write things he might like to read... But I do intend to use extremely exorbitant words just to annoy him in a reticent sort of way...


THINGS I LOVE TO LOVE:

1. I am begining to love the cold mountain weather. It is exceedingly reanimating to come in from the cold and finally start to feel your toes again.

2. I love snuggling. See number one for my favorite machinations for snuggling. (I was not commiting an espieglerie about the vernacular, hoi polloi... I make no atonement for the sin of being a smart ass.)

3. I love my monogynist. I am aware that it is a given, but I don't presuppose I say it nearly enough for everyone to kumtux.

THINGS THAT MAKE ME HAPPY

1. Having dreams. As Cindy once said " A dream is a wish your heart makes..." and I am a wishin'

2. My husband. I love him and he makes my heart jumpand do tiny sumersaults for joy. I wish I weren't so hard on him, or so particular, or so demanding. Because i think it makes him forget how much I really do adore and esteem him.

3. My drive to go home. He really is all I have right now and I am so small without him. I am in a situation that forces us apart right now but my heart is racing for him as if he were the finish line of life.

Just a few nice thoughts in a world full of malignity and depression...

Invisible girl

I have always said that if I had a super power it would be invisibility. And today i think I achieved it. I had a door shut on me five times, someone ask for me when I was in the same room, and my husband either has learned another language and everytime I ask him a question he just hums quietly and gos about with his business.

It really kinda of sucks to be so inconsequential with all of these ubber important people floating on past me. My in laws and coworkers and roomates (all the same general category) speak over, around, under and next to me in order to avoid noticing the great gray glob of absorbtion I have become.

I have never felt so quiet in my life...

A Hardcover Copy...

i have been pressured into it time and time again and i think I might actually do it. I know, i know what you're going to say. I'm too young. I don't know what I am getting myself into. This will change my life forever. I can't undo it.

But it's time. I am at the point in my relationship with life where I can comfortably say yes... without regrets.

I am going to make a good faith effort to write a book. I have wanted to. Wondered what it would feel like. Dreamt about it. Fantasized about the smell, the feel, the love of the pages and binding.

I know. I am a pervertion of my former self. I am no longer full of pure thoughts. All I can think about is tha first moment when I realize that i did it... The release, the explosive joy of writing a new-york times best seller....

Ah, exploring the wet dreams of a nerdy almost-English major...

A Curious Dream...

So i was sleeping the other night, LIKE YOU DO, and I got to dreaming...

I had a dream that I was packing and leaving Mr. Bunny to go back to high school. Throughout the dream I was consumed with worry about how to see him during the school year and was he going to come to my volley ball games and what my teachers could possibly teach me in another year of high school.


It was so interesting to wake up feeling like I had to go buy back to school clothes and like I was going to see Miss. Loquacious in a few days.

And then I got to thinking, LIKE I DO, and I thought...

Gee I miss school. And my friends. And my learning environment. And not being responsible for everything. And having free time. And having the time to think about thing that I think are profound like BLOGGING and LIFE... in that order.

I just realized that I have no idea what I am doing and I miss knowing things...

Anything...

Something New

There is something very blissful in knowing that my one and only is coming home soon. Here it is, nine thirty on a Friday and I know that at some point in the very near future, my husband is preparing to walk through that door and sweep me off my feet. Or at least crash on the bed beside me and hold me close while he snores and talks an intelligible nonsense all night long.

I know this is bound to happen tonight because it happened last night and the night before and most likely will continue as a trend. He will come home to find me half asleep on the couch and I will find him smelling of sawdust and we will melt into sweet oneness for four to eight hours straight and it will be great. Outstanding. Superb. Thrilling.

The swet routine of wedded bliss...