Look, I am loving this chick lately, in spite of how uncomfortable it can be to check out her facial expressions. But! Will.i.am? Oh, I can check out his sweet ass, ahem, FACE, any time!
2.28.2011
2.23.2011
Playing the part
I ate kick-ass pad thai,
and I thought of the only meal we shared, taking turns identifying the pop-culture songs being played on a keyboard (you were so much better at it than I).
I drove aimlessly down unfamiliar streets,
and I thought of your hand on my knee, your thumb grazing my thigh.
I drank several shots of cheap tequila,
and I thought of the perfect dive bar you took me to,
and I remember feeling like this moment belonged to someone else....
surely I didn't deserve to have my way with you.
And I didn't (deserve it)
but I did (have my way),
It ended too soon.
I sit in this chair, my lap full of journal pages, an unopened Spin magazine, and
I watch these brief memories play-rewind-replay
in my mind.
In the dark, I know-
I needed more than one night
to convince you
What took only minutes for my heart to learn.
I find myself thinking of you- at the most inappropriate times,
I find myself dreaming of you-and I wake up in the silence of my room,
hoping you were dreaming of me too.
I walk a thin line, a fine-toothed edge,
writing these words, thinking these thoughts,
Yearning for the impossible, just out of reach.
I am being silly
and unrealistic
and selfish
and foolish.
And I am reading between your unwritten lines,
seeking sentiment where there is none,
hoping you will play me like the script in your hands.
and I thought of the only meal we shared, taking turns identifying the pop-culture songs being played on a keyboard (you were so much better at it than I).
I drove aimlessly down unfamiliar streets,
and I thought of your hand on my knee, your thumb grazing my thigh.
I drank several shots of cheap tequila,
and I thought of the perfect dive bar you took me to,
and I remember feeling like this moment belonged to someone else....
surely I didn't deserve to have my way with you.
And I didn't (deserve it)
but I did (have my way),
It ended too soon.
I sit in this chair, my lap full of journal pages, an unopened Spin magazine, and
I watch these brief memories play-rewind-replay
in my mind.
In the dark, I know-
I needed more than one night
to convince you
What took only minutes for my heart to learn.
I find myself thinking of you- at the most inappropriate times,
I find myself dreaming of you-and I wake up in the silence of my room,
hoping you were dreaming of me too.
I walk a thin line, a fine-toothed edge,
writing these words, thinking these thoughts,
Yearning for the impossible, just out of reach.
I am being silly
and unrealistic
and selfish
and foolish.
And I am reading between your unwritten lines,
seeking sentiment where there is none,
hoping you will play me like the script in your hands.
2.21.2011
2.14.2011
Music Lover Monday- Valentine's Day edition
I love this song. It chokes me up every time I hear it, and I come close to chunking my ipod out onto the highway when it plays, but also? Oh, sweet caroline, it is so damn sweet.
I don't know that anyone has ever felt this way about me. I do indeed know that I have felt this way about someone before. I would be so blessed to have a man enter my life that would feel this way.
Happy Valentine's Day to all of you, even those of you that have this kind of mutual relationship that I'm a tad jealous of. :)
And now for my bitter screw-you-love Valentine's pick. You knew I'd do it, right??
I don't know that anyone has ever felt this way about me. I do indeed know that I have felt this way about someone before. I would be so blessed to have a man enter my life that would feel this way.
Happy Valentine's Day to all of you, even those of you that have this kind of mutual relationship that I'm a tad jealous of. :)
And now for my bitter screw-you-love Valentine's pick. You knew I'd do it, right??
"If you need my shame to reclaim your pride...
And when I think of it, my fingers turn to fists
I never did anything to you, man
But no matter what I try
You'll beat me with your bitter lies
So call me crazy, hold me down
Make me cry; get off now, baby-
It won't be long till you'll be
Lying limp in your own hand."
2.09.2011
Never give up hope
Yesterday was a shitty day. In fact, the last several days were shitty in small ways, and I think it just kept piling up inside until I finally burst today.
In short, my jeep has some issues that are going to cost me money I don't have, on top of needing 2 new tires for safety reasons, and then wanting 4 new tires that are better suited to the look I want for my jeep, and the teeny tiny issue of not having the money for any of the above? Did I mention that already?
Then you add the divorce debacle, the stress of trying to pay bills and get the things my girl needs while balancing my own needs (I need to see a dentist SOON) with my own wants (WANT, WANT, Really WANT), the stress at work, my lack of sleep, this constant ache of unidentifiable origins, the impending snow f-ing storm that is supposed to be here by the time this post hits my blog in the AM, and I truly mean it was a disaster in the making.
So, tears while driving from the shop back to work. Tears as I ran into work, hoping the bathroom by the back door was empty so I could clean myself up.
I just don't seem to have much more I can give of myself. I'm tired. I'm worried. I'm stressed. I'm trying to focus most of my attention on my girl because she really needs it right now. I need exercise. I need a bubble bath. I need a damn backrub.
So I get home from work after sitting in an hour's worth of traffic, and there are 2 things in the mail for me besides bills. One is a gift card from Olive Garden as an apology for the shittiest service EVAH about a month ago. Yay!
The other was an envelope addressed to me w/ a return address from Hollywood. I didn't really pay attention to the handwriting. Inside was this:
Went to a Nintendo event awhile back (hosted by Jennie and Shauna) and we had to write out a card to ourself. Here's what I wrote:
Amazing, the timing, no? I needed this. I know this stuff, but I needed to see it, in my own handwriting.
In short, my jeep has some issues that are going to cost me money I don't have, on top of needing 2 new tires for safety reasons, and then wanting 4 new tires that are better suited to the look I want for my jeep, and the teeny tiny issue of not having the money for any of the above? Did I mention that already?
Then you add the divorce debacle, the stress of trying to pay bills and get the things my girl needs while balancing my own needs (I need to see a dentist SOON) with my own wants (WANT, WANT, Really WANT), the stress at work, my lack of sleep, this constant ache of unidentifiable origins, the impending snow f-ing storm that is supposed to be here by the time this post hits my blog in the AM, and I truly mean it was a disaster in the making.
So, tears while driving from the shop back to work. Tears as I ran into work, hoping the bathroom by the back door was empty so I could clean myself up.
I just don't seem to have much more I can give of myself. I'm tired. I'm worried. I'm stressed. I'm trying to focus most of my attention on my girl because she really needs it right now. I need exercise. I need a bubble bath. I need a damn backrub.
So I get home from work after sitting in an hour's worth of traffic, and there are 2 things in the mail for me besides bills. One is a gift card from Olive Garden as an apology for the shittiest service EVAH about a month ago. Yay!
The other was an envelope addressed to me w/ a return address from Hollywood. I didn't really pay attention to the handwriting. Inside was this:
Went to a Nintendo event awhile back (hosted by Jennie and Shauna) and we had to write out a card to ourself. Here's what I wrote:
Amazing, the timing, no? I needed this. I know this stuff, but I needed to see it, in my own handwriting.
2.08.2011
Apartment 122
Feeling the breeze on my back,
I wake in your twilit room.
I don't want to turn over-
I woke up way too soon.
What is this sadness?
I've got this empty, achy feeling,
My stomach is crazy, churning.
I roll over and gaze at your ceiling
And try to ignore this temporary, desired yearning.
What is this sadness?
I know you've left me here alone,
I'm in your empty bed,
So I stretch out to your side
And pull the covers back over my head.
I can hear your CD quietly playing-
It brings me back to last night-
I swear I hear your voice barely breathing:
"Stay with me-it feels right."
Right.
Tell me then:
Why am I alone today, in this love-full bed?
And
What is this sadness?
I wake in your twilit room.
I don't want to turn over-
I woke up way too soon.
What is this sadness?
I've got this empty, achy feeling,
My stomach is crazy, churning.
I roll over and gaze at your ceiling
And try to ignore this temporary, desired yearning.
What is this sadness?
I know you've left me here alone,
I'm in your empty bed,
So I stretch out to your side
And pull the covers back over my head.
I can hear your CD quietly playing-
It brings me back to last night-
I swear I hear your voice barely breathing:
"Stay with me-it feels right."
Right.
Tell me then:
Why am I alone today, in this love-full bed?
And
What is this sadness?
2.07.2011
Music Lover Monday-Clever trick
"....So you're gone and i'm haunted
And i bet you are just fine
Did i make it that easy to walk
Right in and out of my life?..."
And i bet you are just fine
Did i make it that easy to walk
Right in and out of my life?..."
2.04.2011
Heaven?
Classic case-
Wrong place, wrong time
Followed a dream
that wasn't mine.
Right person,
Right heart,
waved and smiled
with a twinkle of the eye...
But passed it by.
Now here in a deserted
heaven...
I keep following this wish
I never should have
had.
2.03.2011
Dust to dust
Ashes of ourselves, blowing across the floor
Seem to pile and remain forever in the fireplace corner.
No matter that we sweem them up
and pitch them out the back door-
They wind up back
just as before:
Drifting in, on logs of mossy memories,
silent and unnoticed,
To make us stop
and
stare
and study their
jilted presence once more.
Endless nostalgia and hurt
Cramp space for our new chairs....
These ashes cling to the mirror,
And leave us looking for comfort.
Seem to pile and remain forever in the fireplace corner.
No matter that we sweem them up
and pitch them out the back door-
They wind up back
just as before:
Drifting in, on logs of mossy memories,
silent and unnoticed,
To make us stop
and
stare
and study their
jilted presence once more.
Endless nostalgia and hurt
Cramp space for our new chairs....
These ashes cling to the mirror,
And leave us looking for comfort.
2.01.2011
Re-appearance
Yes, I disappeared again. I tripped and fell into someone else's life, but every morning when I look in the mirror, I am again shocked that it is my life. I think about where I was a year ago today....crying, angry, shocked, confused, but relatively comfortable in thinking that everything would just blow over, again. I think about the plans I had for 2010, and how most of them didn't happen. I think about how, this day last year, began a long stretch of sleeping in a big bed alone. Of falling asleep on a wet pillow, curled in the fetal position, listening to music and dead silence all night long. Of waking up just as the sun rose, shocked that I had slept and that I was still breathing.
And really, a year later, I am shocked to find that my life has changed from even that. That this is how it turned out. That 2010 flew by, full of bullshit and sorrow and such intense emotion that I still can't find the proper words. That it is already 2011, that I've already been living in my mother's house for 8 months, almost enough time to have given birth to that second child we never had.
I think back to years ago, and I can now honestly say that I felt him slipping away years ago. And I held on, for dear fucking life, clutching and loving and pleading and pleasing, to no avail. There was very little given for all that I gave; the dreams of those two 19 year olds just slid away, first placed on the backburner, then switched out for new, more bedazzled glittery bullshit hopes. And there I was, the ever-pleasing person that I am, smiling and nodding and gushing over dreams not my own. And why??
Because I loved him.
And I thought that was enough.
I was wrong.
It's never been enough.
I share my bed with my girl. And when she's not with me, I share it with my crazy-ass boxer. Or I don't sleep in it. I share my days with over 48 older adults who have sorrows and heartbreaks much deeper and gutwrenching than mine. I share my heart with a 93 year old woman who weighs 63 lbs. I share my nights with my mother, sister, brother, and daughter, watching stupid TV, or arguing over silly things, or eating too much. I also share my nights with randomly wonderful people. People that surely wouldn't have been in my life a year ago.
I think about writing quite often. The same willow tree catches my eye every morning as I drive to work, and I see words flash before my eyes, words I want to put down in my journal, or here. I think about a house that I wanted for so long, and if I sit with my eyes closed long enough, I can almost imagine myself there, sitting in a chair on the covered back porch, pen in hand. But, this past year taught me that it really doesn't matter where I am, as long as I don't stop doing what I know is right, what I know to be true.
I stopped writing before Christmas. It wasn't in me to talk about my aches or my anger or my fears. It wasn't in me to write about feeling hopeless and lost and dizzy with desire. But I thought about it. Every day.
So. Here I am.
Exposed. Unsure. Tempermental. Weary. Lonely.
But: hopeful.
And really, a year later, I am shocked to find that my life has changed from even that. That this is how it turned out. That 2010 flew by, full of bullshit and sorrow and such intense emotion that I still can't find the proper words. That it is already 2011, that I've already been living in my mother's house for 8 months, almost enough time to have given birth to that second child we never had.
I think back to years ago, and I can now honestly say that I felt him slipping away years ago. And I held on, for dear fucking life, clutching and loving and pleading and pleasing, to no avail. There was very little given for all that I gave; the dreams of those two 19 year olds just slid away, first placed on the backburner, then switched out for new, more bedazzled glittery bullshit hopes. And there I was, the ever-pleasing person that I am, smiling and nodding and gushing over dreams not my own. And why??
Because I loved him.
And I thought that was enough.
I was wrong.
It's never been enough.
I share my bed with my girl. And when she's not with me, I share it with my crazy-ass boxer. Or I don't sleep in it. I share my days with over 48 older adults who have sorrows and heartbreaks much deeper and gutwrenching than mine. I share my heart with a 93 year old woman who weighs 63 lbs. I share my nights with my mother, sister, brother, and daughter, watching stupid TV, or arguing over silly things, or eating too much. I also share my nights with randomly wonderful people. People that surely wouldn't have been in my life a year ago.
I think about writing quite often. The same willow tree catches my eye every morning as I drive to work, and I see words flash before my eyes, words I want to put down in my journal, or here. I think about a house that I wanted for so long, and if I sit with my eyes closed long enough, I can almost imagine myself there, sitting in a chair on the covered back porch, pen in hand. But, this past year taught me that it really doesn't matter where I am, as long as I don't stop doing what I know is right, what I know to be true.
I stopped writing before Christmas. It wasn't in me to talk about my aches or my anger or my fears. It wasn't in me to write about feeling hopeless and lost and dizzy with desire. But I thought about it. Every day.
So. Here I am.
Exposed. Unsure. Tempermental. Weary. Lonely.
But: hopeful.
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