Wednesday, December 05, 2012

And then there were 3

This is a story about how we got a cat.

First of all, a little background.

My parents have this cat named Yoda that my son absolutely ADORED when we lived there. Yoda was HIS kitty. But Yoda lived outside, and didn't always love Ri as much as Ri loved him. He was super tolerant, sure, but would dash out the door if he saw Ri coming. I was afraid that if we brought him with us he'd try to escape every time the door was opened and we'd have a squished or lost kitty and a sad little boy. So we left him at my parents' house. It wouldn't be too lonely for him there--we'd see him on visits, and his brother is there, too.

Then a few weeks back a friend shared on Facebook that her cat (William Blake aka Blake) needed a new home when she moved to California to get married. This cat was used to FOUR little boys, not just one, and was content to stay inside all day. (Or so I thought.)

I thought this would be a perfect solution.

But I felt guilty. I felt guilty about taking on a new cat after we'd left Yoda behind.But then someone pointed out that Yoda had a home, but Blake would not.

And Riley really loves cats.

So we took him! We're cat owners, for good or for ill.

It isn't as rosy as I thought it would be. He really wants to go outside (more about that later), although he seems more content to stay inside as time goes on. He'd been accustomed to taking care of his business outdoors and wasn't sure about the litter box at first. He's a very tolerant cat, but even very tolerant cats have their limits when a 3-year-old boy is around. And for some reason he wants to sleep on MY bed. Which makes Ri sad and me sneezy.

Riley's thrilled, though. He used to come find me as soon as he woke up in the mornings. This morning I caught him in the living room playing with the cat. Apparently he'd rather play with Blakey than say hi to Mom. He loves to pet him, and I've taught him how to gently brush his fur. Every time you ask him about his new kitty he gets the biggest grin on his face.

There *have* been a couple of escape attempts. In fact, the day we brought him home Ri accidentally opened the door to his carrier right before we got the door open. Thankfully, he was too scared too move and we got him inside.

Then last week he dashed outside, jumped over the back wall, and headed across the street. I was able to round him up in about three minutes (in my pajamas and barefoot, no less), but he did make me bleed in the process.

But...we love him! He's part of our family now. And part of the couch. He loves the back of the couch.


Maybe not our best pic--but we're happy!

Monday, November 12, 2012

33

Confession time. I have a thing for celebrity "news." I read People when I'm waiting at the doctor's office. I peruse tabloid headings at the grocery store. And that's how I came across this magazine cover about Taylor Swift:


Lately, I've seen these digs at Taylor all over the place. So...let me get this straight. A 22-year-old girl/woman has a few (or a few dozen) breakups, and suddenly she's Elizabeth Taylor? I guess I don't really understand what exactly people expect her to do. Rush in and marry the wrong guy just to settle down? Stay for years in a dead end relationship? Join a convent? (It would be a shame to cover up her hair like that.)

It's okay, Taylor. I've got your back.

A year and a half ago, after a rather painful (yet not *that* unexpected) rejection (note: not even a break up. Just a rejection.) I lay awake at 3am counting how many breakups I'd ever had. The count, up to that point, was 26. Twenty-six.

I dealt with this painful realization the way I often do, with poetry. Forgive me if it's a little cliche (after all, it's a poem), but here it is:

Steel plated

This is like road rash
In the same way that childbirth is like a mild back ache
My heart hasn't been dragged through the mud
It's been tied to the bumper of your 4-wheel drive and splattered all the way up and down I-35
I need steel plates and a guard dragon
To protect it long enough to make it whole
Again
I need bumper lanes and training wheels
And a secret service detail
To save me from myself
And the worst part is how it doesn't hurt
The nerves were irreparably damaged years ago
Years ago

Some of those breakups are repeats, multiple breakups with the same person. When I was Taylor's age, the total count was 13, including a rather devastating broken engagement. (Hey, that's my favorite number. And hers. #notreallythatobsessedipromise.) These days the number is, um, 33. (Yikes.)

Obviously, I've done a few things wrong in the past 28.5 years. I know that. But *most* of these breakups have NOT been my idea. I mean, if I could have had a dime every time a guy said "It's not you, it's me"...I....Okay, I got nuthin to follow that up with, but you get the idea.

Many of the relationships weren't serious; some were. Most were short lived. In fact, I've only ever had one relationship last longer than six months (and that one, I think, lasted just seven months). That doesn't mean the breakup isn't painful. Just...different. And repetitive. And to watch friends all around me settle down and buy houses and have babies and pets, yet here I am failing over and over and over and over with no one willing to give me a chance...well...it really made me wonder what the hell was so wrong with me.

The point is, it's sucks. It isn't pretty. It isn't fun. And even when your roommate tells you "Don't worry. There's plenty of fish in the sea. Especially for skinny blondes with big jugs." it stops being comforting/funny and just...ironic after a while.

In the world of single parenting I've met a lot of people who are divorced. I get that I can never fully understand that...or, well, that I don't currently fully understand how that feels and hope that I never do. By the same token, though, I don't think someone who was married at 20 can understand what thirty-three breakups feels like. (Unless, of course, they've had 33 breakups of their own.) How numb (and sarcastic. and cynical.) you become. How hope becomes a little like a toothache that flares up when you least expect it.

I've had a post like this in the works for a while. I can admit that I'm a little hesitant to put it all out there like this. I know there are some who would look at the numbers I posted and judge me negatively. I can't say that I'd blame them. It's (more than) a little embarrassing. And more than a little painful.

But I also know that the right person won't care about all that. Because the past can't be changed, no matter how painful it was. I'm currently dating someone who I at one (okay, more than one) point swore I'd never ever get back together with. Like, ever. But patience has a way of winning me over, and time has a way of replacing pain with happiness.

Here's to keeping it all going.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Someday I'm going to be a pillar of light and not a pillar of salt

I might be a little obsessed with Harry Potter. (By a little obsessed I probably mean a lot obsessed.) I've always imagined myself to be in Ravenclaw, the Hogwarts house that values intelligence and wit. So imagine my surprise when the Pottermore sorting hat put me in Gryffindor.

Gryffindor?

If I wasn't a Ravenclaw, I could at least see Hufflepuff. I often feel like I belong nowhere and I like to work hard. Well...sometimes I do. Or maybe Slytherin; I pursue self interest perhaps more than I like to admit. But Gryffindor? The brave-of-heart wannabe heroes who charge (often stupidly and recklessly) into situations unseen? Um, okay. Didn't see that one coming.

But then I thought about it. Not everyone in Gryffindor lacks intelligence. There's McGonagall. Hermione. Dumbledore. Lily. All magnificently brilliant, but it is their strength and courage that define them.

*Maybe* I am brave. *Maybe* I have heart and courage. How many times in the past four years (or more?) have I done the impossible simply because it had to be done? Perhaps this strength has been within me all along. It just took a crazy sort of fire to bring it out.

Both of these things--my intelligence and strength--are vitally important to me, to how I see myself. I remember noticing for the first time in fifth grade how some of the girls would pretend to be bad at math so that the boys would like them. I swore that day that I would never, ever do that.

And I never have.

I am proud of my intelligence, my strength. Why on earth should I hide who I am? I realize I'm not getting a Nobel prize in physics any time ever, but I can string together a decent sentence and add large numbers in my head. I can pay my own bills and take care of my own child and squash my own spiders. I can work 50+ hour work weeks, even when it really sucks. I have a college degree and an independent streak (some might call it stubbornness).

And I am not ashamed of any of this.

And if that's why I've never been married, so be it. Being single gets old after nearly three decades. It gets lonely. But I would far rather be alone than settle for someone who doesn't want me when I am strong. Because there is beauty in my strength. And I know the bravery and wit I have now are just a spark compared to my ultimate potential.

Still, despite all this, perhaps at times I give off damsel-in-distress vibes. Even at three, Ri loves to rush to my aide. To help me with anything and everything. Part of it is his age, of course. But I think a part of him recognizes that I do a job alone that's meant for two. I want to be, need to be, strong for him and give him everything. Yet at the same time I have to let him know that when he grows up and becomes a daddy, he isn't irrelevant.

When I was pregnant and tearfully asked my son's father how I could possibly do this all on my own, he said he knew I could because his mom had done the same. In some ways he was right. I *can* do this on my own. But it's a tricky balancing act--be strong, but not so strong that I push everyone away and teach my child to do the same.

The only solution I've found so far is simply never to settle. Never be less than my best. Not that I always have to be perfect (how exhausting) but when I find that *someone* and settle down, it will because he'll see and appreciate how glorious I am at my best. At my strongest.

And that I am not ashamed of it.

See? I knew I bought this awesome Gryffindor jersey for a reason.

I may talk tough, but I still love getting flowers from a not-so-secret admirer.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Exhausted but happy

Nobody told me that single parenthood would be like giving birth every.single.day. Living in our own place, doing all of this on my own, is exhausting. So exhausting.

Yet I love it.

I wouldn't have it any other way. I can't say this enough--I will always be incredibly grateful for the sacrifices my parents made and all the help they gave us; it's a debt I can't repay. (You know, until they're old and feeble and need me back.) But being on our own like this, it's how things should be. I love coming home to our own place, paying our own bills (yeah, I'll get over this one fast), eating leftover pizza in the living room for breakfast if we feel like it.

For some reason I thought that once we moved I'd have all this time on my hands. I'm sure Fate threw back her head and laughed every time I thought that. Maybe it's the adjustment period, but I swear it feels like I just had a baby--you know, that deer-in-the-headlights, I-don't-know-what-in-the-hell-I'm-doing-but-I'm-DOING-it feeling. Wondering if I'll ever have 8 hours of sleep again. Trying to figure out if that smell in the kitchen is the coming from the fridge, the garbage, or the laundry. Keeping my exhausted eyes open long enough at night to try clean up dinner, prep breakfast and my lunch, laundry, dishes, get tomorrow's dinner ready for the crock pot, set out clothes, shower, exercise, sweep, vacuum, get my child to bed, get my child to STAY in bed, yoga/pray/read/meditate, get myself to bed--and doing it all over again the next day. (And if you *really* think I do all of those things every.single.night...have we actually met?) Like, seriously, I'm exhausted just reading that.

R still isn't quite used to having his own bedroom, and almost every morning I find him and his pillow pet on my bedroom floor. I'm not used to all this either, and my gotta-check-the-locks OCDness is out in full force.

Plus moving brings the opportunity for new friends. (Yay!) And somehow it brings old friends (and old flames, and old would-be flames) out of the woodworks. Who knew? If Emotional Gymnastics were an Olympic sport, I'd win a gold freakin medal.

But, hey, I'm doing this. And loving it! I'm finding out that no matter how strong I think I am, I can always be stronger. I might despair sometimes, I might whine, but when something has to be done, I do it. So all of these things that have to be done (by ME, because there is no one else to do them) now that we're on our own, I do it. It's exhausting. But I love it. I love this new life we're making for our little family. The kisses and hugs I get at the beginning and end of every day make it all worth it. His smile, his kindess his goodness; I'd do anything for my little boy.

And right now that means being exhausted every day as I adjust to our new life. And I'm okay with that.

Monday, September 10, 2012

Michelangelo's Masterpiece

You aren't a monster
Just a human being with flaws
Eerily similar to my own
But still
What you did, it wasn't right
And it's not okay
It's not
There may be redemption from this
But reconstruction?
That era was temporarily successful at best
I'd like to think we're better
(Or at least that we can be)
But right now I just don't know
I don't
If I had to guess, I'd say this vortex of ours is inescapable
Please prove me wrong

Thursday, September 06, 2012

Someday

Eleven years ago I finally had a boy pay attention to me for the first time in my life. I was giddy; I was in awe. We were walking in Fred Meyer when he held my hand for the first time. And as quickly as it began, it was over. He betrayed me with a friend of mine, and it would be years before I realized that perhaps she was hurting, perhaps she was as deceived by him as I had been. But she and I went to different schools and Facebook and text messaging didn't exist, so I haven't spoken to her since. I wish I could. I wish I could hug her and tell her how sorry I was that she was hurt, too. (I mean, I would assume she still remembers how it all went down. But maybe not.)

Ten years ago I had my first "real" boyfriend. He took me to my senior prom and we spent a crazy summer together. Then autumn came and I left for school and we eventually fell apart. Some time in the past several years we initiated a close friendship, and a year ago I flew half way across the country to see him. I thought maybe, just *maybe* things would click. This would be it. I was excited for all the possibilities and potential. And then...nothing happened. It took only a few weeks before I realized it was probably better that way, but at the time you might say I was disappointed.

Seven years ago I had a ring on my finger. It was pale yellow gold with a princess-cut diamond set at an angle, and the matching band in the set had a small row of diamonds that slid under it. I've never seen another ring like it before or since. Nothing in the world could have gotten me to end that relationship, no matter how miserable I may have been or how unhealthy it was. We were supposed to be married. I'd prayed about it. I knew. And then one day I bought a dress and the next day he changed his mind. I dodged the bullet, really. We were terribly, terribly wrong for each other. But still, I was devastated. I remember walking/running/sobbing through the gardens on campus. Making my way past curious stares into one of the campus bathrooms and seeing mascara all. over. my face. Then two years later seeing that ring on someone else's finger and having a panic attack in Target. It's funny, sometimes, how people who are such a cornerstone in your life at one point aren't even in it years later.

Five years ago I was in love with a man who loved me back and wanted to give me the world. So, naturally, I broke his heart into a bunch of little pieces. He picked up the mess and moved on to a great life, and somehow we are able to very casually be friends. But I wonder about the person I was that day, how I could possibly have been so cruel.

Four years ago I peed on a stick and saw two lines. Pregnant. That relationship had already been a roller coaster, what would happen now? I knew my whole life was changing and it seemed surreal. And then he proposed...to somebody else. Somehow I found the strength to go forward. To make plans. To take care of myself and of the fetus that became the baby that became the most amazing little boy. I moved across the state and quit my job to have family support. I shared a tiny bedroom with him for three years. Worked late hours to spend more time with him. I did what had to be done because, well, I had to do it. Life hasn't been ideal, but caring for my child has never been optional. Never.

Two years ago I was going through my second or third breakup with someone I'd been (kinda) friends with for years. You'd think the pain would have stopped surprising me, but it didn't. And then a year or so later I briefly let him back in my life and he hurt me more than any other human being ever has.

One year ago I fell in love by watching the man I admired falling in love with my son. (In a father figure sort of way, not...any other way.) I had never experienced anything like that, so I had no idea until it happened how badly I wanted that for my son, for our little family. But I wasn't the right girl for him, and it didn't last. And it's okay; it's actually refreshing to me to know I can wish him well with no bitterness or regrets.

Six months ago I ended a relationship was smothering me. I was done. Done done done. I never imagined that that would come back into my life to burn me more than I knew possible. Never imagined that the strangest friendship of my life would emerge from those ashes. (Or will if I can fix myself long enough to not burn that up myself.)

Someday I am going to find someone who loves me and whom I love in return...enough for both of us to make that scary leap into the unknown. Someone who realizes that love is based on actions, not feelings. Someone who cares deeply for both me and my son, and gets that we are a package deal. Someone who treats me well because he knows I won't settle for anything less than that. Because I'll be strong that day, and the right man out there for me wants a woman who is strong.

I like to think that I am tough. That I'm Rosie the Riveter and I don't really *need* a man. That if someday never happens, I'll be perfectly alright. And it's true; I will. If it's just me and Little Man for the rest of our lives, we will be happy and we will thrive.

But today is one of those days when I hold onto all the possibilities of Someday. So please don't tell me it doesn't exist.

Marionette

Someday I'll be a real girl
And when you pull my strings they'll fall apart in your hands
What will you do with me then?
With no lifeless wooden form to manipulate in your hands
No hollow, hollow eyes
And a will of my own
What use will you have for me
When I am beautiful?
And real
And when I'm a pillar of brilliant light
Will I blind you or draw you near?

Wednesday, September 05, 2012

Rosaline, Rosaline

You dodged the bullet
Or the happy dagger, anyway
He didn't die for you
I don't believe you wanted him to die at all

But the star-cross'd lovers, they might be doomed
Young Juliet and her stupid secret folly
As if three days was enough to determine life or death

And Romeo of the wandering eyes
Rosaline, Juliet, Rosaline
No, Juliet; definitely Juliet
...Or maybe Rosaline

Poison. Dagger. Scene.

And now for some subject-appropriate internet memes:


Friday, August 24, 2012

The next adventure

Tomorrow I embark on my latest (and greatest?) adventure. After three years at my parents' house, R and I are striking out on our own.

I'm very excited. It's been a long time coming.

I might also be a little scared.

Three years, three months, and 28ish days ago my parents welcomed a very pregnant me into their home. I didn't know how long I'd be staying--if it would be just a few weeks for help with the baby. Or longer. (Obviously, it turned out to be much, much longer.) It was an adjustment; I'd lived by myself for the past six months, and with roommates for several years before that.

I decided to stay. I gave up a perfectly good job in exchange for family who could help me raise my sweet little boy. (I miss the job sometimes but I've never once missed an eastern Idaho winter.)

Being a parent to my child and child to my parents at the same time is, well, exhausting. And it doesn't seem to get better in time. But I'm incredibly grateful for my parents' generosity.

There were pluses, too--for about six months in R's toddlerhood I worked a late schedule. Grandma and Grandpa put him to bed, and we got to spend lazy mornings together, do fun programs at the local library, and sit around in our pajamas until noon if we felt like it. I love being home for bedtime now, but I miss those days sometimes.

So...this new adventure. It will be different. I suspect it will be wonderful. For the first time we'll get to see how we interact as a little family all on our own. I'll get to see how I do without any backup.

Ready or not, here we go! (We're so ready.)



Thursday, August 23, 2012

A dollar in dimes


Back by *popular* demand, here are more really catchy songs with, well, pretty dumb lyrics. And where else can I start but with...

Carly Rae Jepsen, "Call Me Maybe"
Before you came into my lifeI missed you so badI missed you so badI missed you so, so bad

No. Just no. That's not how it works, Carly Rae. You can't miss something you've never had. Even Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey know that.


Eminem/Rihanna, "Love the Way You Lie"
Now you get to watch her leave out the windowGuess that's why they call it window "pain"

Some word plays are witty. And some are just "pain"ful.


Hanson, "MMMBop"
In an mmmbop they're goneIn an mmm bop they're not there

Does it still count as scat if used in a sentence as noun? How is this so catchy? And yet it is. I'm totally listening to this on YouTube and reliving junior high right now. (For some reason this reminds me of mowing the lawn at my parents' house.) And for some unknown reason the song made a comeback (not, like, everywhere; just a handful of us in Rexburg) one summer in college.

Now I need to listen to something else before I break out in plaid or something.


Spice Girls, "Wannabe"
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really really really wanna zigazig ha

I don't know what this means. But I love the Spice Girls. Girl power!


Eiffel 65, "Blue (Da Ba De)"
I'm blue da ba dee da ba dieda ba dee da ba dieda ba dee da ba die

Many years ago I heard someone say that the lyrics said "I'm blue. If I was green I would die." Apparently that isn't true, but maybe it's food for thought.


Justin Bieber, "Boyfriend"
So say hello to falsetto in three, two...

Love this. Where else could you get a formal introduction to a voice tone. (Outside of, say, Mandarin 101.) For a minute there, Biebs, I thought you were all grown up. But then you sang about Buzz Lightyear and the world is thankfully back to normal.

Now moving on to his girlfriend...


Selena Gomez & the Scene, "Love You Like a Love Song"
I, I love you like a love song, babyAnd I keep hitting re-peat-peat-peat-peat-peat-peat

I hate song stuttering. Except when I love it. In this case I just *might* love it.


Taylor Swift, "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together"
But we are never ever ever ever getting back togetherLike, ever...

I kinda hate that Taylor is on this list. But, yeah, the song is catchy. And if I had a dime for every relationship of mine that's been like this song...well...I'd probably have at least a dollar. A dollar in dimes.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Wednesday, August 01, 2012

But the truth is we all suck


You know that point in Pride in Prejudice where Elizabeth reads Darcy's letter and realizes for the first time that Wickham is a money grabbing cad?

I feel like that today.

Not all that long ago there was someone in my life, and I thought something might come of it. It was all very Victorian (or Edwardian or Recency...ish) -- looks and glances and hints, but nothing akin to a modern courtship.

And then one day he disappeared.

Naturally, being me...being female...being human...I wondered what I did wrong. I wondered what it was about me that didn't quite measure up.

And then I got over (well, mostly). It's not like this is the first (or second or tenth) time I've felt rejection. I've been down this road enough to know that eventually the sting goes away. And eventually the "But what did I do wrooooooooooong?" angst fades because enough time goes by for me to have enough sense to recognize and accept that it was a choice made by someone else; probably nothing I said or did would have changed the outcome. (Holy run-on sentence, Batman.)

Anyway, what does this has to do with Wickham? Well...not long after he disappeared, some new things came to light to make me realize that I dodged the bullet after all. The specifics don't matter. Not really.

But between thinking about this and thinking about another friend/ex who has unintentionally (and probably unknowningly) hurt me lately by just...well...being a single guy (and a cad), I realize that I'm not exempt from criticism, either. I've said things that maybe weren't meant as deeply as I thought at the time. I've jumped to conclusions too quickly. I've broken hearts myself.

The truth is we all suck. Me included.

I don't mean that to be negative; not at all slamming on myself here. I just mean to say that despite being hurt, I can forgive them for their humanity because I have plenty of my own.

And I can be stronger for all of that.

Wednesday, June 06, 2012

A new mantra

The night before Riley's birthday, I had some interesting thoughts floating through my head. Maybe it was the Shopko Coma I was in as a result of trying to birthday shop after 9 hours at work. Maybe looking at dozens of Hot Wheels options just does that to me.

But I was thinking, naturally, about how much my little boy has changed over the past 3 years. He's gone from a helpless (albeit adorable) newborn infant into a walking, talking, jumping, humor-appreciating little person. He's learned a million new words...some of which he has used to learn sarcastically. He's learned to ride a bike. To count numbers.

And then I thought, what have I accomplished in the past 3 years? Lived in my parents house. Worked at a job far below my educational and intellectual capacity that barely provides enough to make ends meet. Had a few failed relationships. Lost weight...and gained most of it back.

In many ways, my life is in the same state it was 3 years ago. The. Same. State.

And then I had a thought. A thought that I repeated in my brain many times that night: Struggling is NOT the same thing as failing.

Struggling
is not
the same thing as failing.

It's not. I'm not failing. I'm not a failure. I have some things to work on, sure. But sometimes, keeping my head metaphorically above water all day, all week, all year...that is accomplishment in and of itself.

And there are some things I have done. I've written this blog...no, really...that means a lot to me. I've maintained and worked to cultivate my writing skills. And I'm starting to be brave enough to share that with the world. (Or a few of my Facebook friends, anyway.) I've gotten into yoga; I'd like to think that, despite heartbreaks I have had, I'm in a healthier place emotionally now than I've ever been in the past. (Part of that might just be the magic of getting ever closer to turning 30.) Oh, and, I paid off my car! That was a very happy day.

So this is my new mantra: struggling is not the same thing as failing. I may have to repeat this a million times before I'm satisfied. Oh, who are we kidding, I'll be telling myself this for the rest of my life, won't I?

But you know what? Today I'm okay with that.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Three years ago today




Three years ago today I was due to have a baby. My stomach was enormous and I was ready to explode.

And terrified. He was pretty easy to take care of in there. I had the basic concept down. But I knew that in just a matter of days my life would change. Life-long, unalterable change. I'm always a bit puzzled by first-time moms who can't wait to say farewell to pregnancy. Sure, sleeping was the most uncomfortable it's ever been, and my ankles each took up their own zip code. And, yeah, I was anxious meet this new little person and see whether or not he has my nose.

But in other ways I felt like I could be pregnant forever. I knew what I could/couldn't do. And being able to see my legs was optional, right? *sigh* Sooner or later he had to come out. And he did.

And...he...is...AMAZING. I seriously have the best almost-3-year-old boy on the planet. He's always delighted and fascinated that I come home from work every day. He loves fiercely. This morning he told me he loved me with no prompting whatsoever. (Although that might have been because he wanted to play on my computer.)

The jury's still out on whether or not he has my nose. But he has my pale skin. My love for books and language. My stubbornness independent streak.

I hope he keeps those things. (Not that he has much choice with the skin.) I hope he's still reading as a teenager, as an adult. I hope he loves Harry Potter as much as I do. I hope he holds onto that independence and learns to think objectively...but I also hope he wisely uses his natural charisma to build lasting friendships and relationships.

I hope that as we both grow older and my imperfections become more obvious, that he'll remember how deeply he loved me as a child. How deeply I'll always love him. I hope he'll forgive me for all the things I can't provide, and appreciate the things I can.

Happy (almost) birthday, Ri! You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

Friday, May 25, 2012

I'm on a roll today...

Without a thorn
You held the axe
I came to you when I was wounded
Bloodied and in need of asylum
"It isn't finished," you said
"Your wounds. They could be worse."
And then you swung
You swung
Smiled. Nodded. Walked away with satisfaction.

I ran about
Headless like a chicken
Stumbled into the next one
"I am not WHOLE!" I cried
He balked. He laughed.
"You look fine to me"
And I was puzzled

You stood near, watching
All this time telling yourself, telling me
I was better for what you did
That you saved me from the Awful Monster
So silent, I sometimes question his very existence

The blood ran down my arms
I tried to hold myself together
But I couldn't
I can't
The beheading, you made it complete
Every scream was silence
And every time my feet would move
They could only trace a circle

I can't be a party to this




You called to say you wanted out.
Well, I can't say I blame you now.
Sometimes you've got to fold
before you're found out.
Well thanks for waiting this long to show yourself.

Cause now that I can see you,
I don't think you're worth a second glance.

So much for all the promises you made, they served you well
and now you're gone and they're wasted on me.
So much for your endearing sense of charm, it served you well
and now it's gone and you're wasted on me.

You called to say you wanted out.
Well, I can't say I blame you now.
Sometimes you've got to fold
before you're found out.
Well thanks, thanks for waiting this long to show yourself, show yourself.

Cause now that I can see you,
I don't think you're worth a second glance.

So much for all the promises you made, they served you well
and now you're gone and they're wasted on me.
So much for your endearing sense of charm, it served you well
and now it's gone and you're wasted on me.

I guess that all you've got is all you're gonna get.
So much for, so much more
I guess that all you've got is all you're gonna get.
So much for, so much more

Do what you must if that's what you wish,
I can't be a party to this.
You have a sense that you were born with.
You'll find a way to make things right.

I guess that all you've got is all you're gonna get.
So much for, so much more
I guess that all you've got is all you're gonna get.
So much for, so much more
I guess that all you've got is all you're gonna get.
So much for, so much more

Dashboard Confessional, "Rapid Hope Loss"

Song lyrics so stupid...they may actually be genius

Today I present to you five seven songs with lyrics so mindnumbingly bad that I actually *kinda* like them. It's no secret that I'm a lyrics snob. The song can have the best beat on the planet, but if you rhyme "save me" with "save me" (that's right, David Guetta, I'm talking to you), I'm probably going to mock it.

But sometimes--just sometimes--the awfulness of the lyrics actually makes them great. Don't ask me how this works. I don't really know. It's not a formula. It just happens some times.

And without further ado...


Kelis, "Milkshake"
My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard,
And they're like
It's better than yours

What more do I have to say? Thanks, Kelis, for changing pop culture forever. Or at least for the past 9 years.

I'll take chocolate. With a cherry on top.


Fergie, "Fergalicious"
I'm Fergalicious (so delicious)
My body stay vicious
I be up in the gym just working on my fitness

I really want to know if she misspelled duchess on her album title on purpose or not. Anyway...it's catchy. It's plain freaking awful. And catchy.


Miley Cyrus, "Party in the USA"
And the butterflies fly away
I'm noddin' my head like yeah
I'm movin' my hips like yeah

Okay, this song was written by Jessie J. So it might actually *be* genius. What's that...you don't know who Jessie J is? Shame on you. Go fix that. YouTube will help.


Ke$ha, "Your Love Is My Drug"
My steeze is gonna be affected if I keep it up like a love sick crack head

Made up word? Check. Mild drug reference? Check. Awesomeness? Double check.

I know there's a lot of haters out there, but I love me some K-E-dollar sign-hah. About this time a year ago I was driving around all mopey (mopy? mope-ish?) because the guy I liked didn't like me back. A Ke$ha song came on the radio and I turned it UP. "Nothing like some glitter pop to make you forget about a dumb boy." "YEAH!!!" chimed Riley from the backseat. (Okay...maybe you had to be there. But I promise you it was hilarious.)


3OH!3, "Don't Trust Me"
Shush girl, shut your lips,
Do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips

These lyrics have driven me absolutely crazy since the first time I heard them. Really, they make no sense. How did they even make it on this list? Oh well.

Helen Keller learned language from Anne Sullivan tracing letters on her hand. She later learned to read, speak, and write English. Well, the reading was mostly braille. There are no reports of her being promiscuous. So...she didn't talk with her hips, not literally and not figuratively. *sigh*

Plus these lyrics are just...degrading. So while this seems witty on the surface...ehhhh. Maybe.


Shakira, "Suerte"
Suerte que mis pechos sean pequeños
y nos los confundas con montañas
Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem, Shakira. Lucky you, not having to deal with it.


Aerosmith, "Dude (Looks Like a Lady)"
That, that dude looks like a lady
That, that dude looks like a lady
That, that dude looks like a lady
That, that dude looks like a lady

Step one: find catchy phrase. Step two: repeat incessantly. Congratulations, Steven Tyler, you have a song!

Monday, May 21, 2012

Cinderella's folly

March 2011

March 2012

When Riley was first born I felt this frenzied need to get married, to find him a daddy. These feelings were mainly subconscious; in many ways I didn't even realize this until after his first birthday. (Ironically I didn't date at all for much of this time. Who has time for that with a newborn? I had bigger things to worry about.)

My church sponsors an Institute of Religion that offers free religious classes for young adults. In an attempt to get out of the house and make friends I started going to one of these when Riley was about three months old. Driven by my subconscious (and sometimes not so subconscious) need to find someone (anyone! right away!) to spend the rest of my life with, I chose a class on marriage.

I went exactly two times. I honestly don't remember if it happened in the first or second class (or why I even went back if it was the first one), but for one of the class periods the instructor had compiled statistics, quotes from psychologists, and other "evidence" on how single parenting destroys children and crumbles society.

Yeah.

I was three months postpartum. Three months. It wasn't even a matter of being offended; my hormonal self just simply couldn't take being told that I was ruining my child's life...and the world. So I simply stopped going.

Looking back with the luxury of having two-and-a-half years of emotional distance, I suspect he was simply trying to illustrate the importance of marriage. But I felt like a giant failure.

The frenzy continued. I dated guys who maybe weren't the best choices to begin with, but after a long stretch of zero male attention, I was of a beggars-can't-be-choosers mindset. I held on way too tightly (some may have viewed it as desperation) and quickly sent them running in the other direction.

One of them (to his credit, I suppose) stopped running long enough to tell me that he hoped I wouldn't rush too quickly into a marriage, that I would use my brain and think a little. That being alone wasn't the end of the world. After all, that was the life I was already living.

And then at some point, something changed. I changed. I went from clingy-needy vibes to no!-go-away!-stop-trying-to-help-I-can-do-this-ALL-by-myself vibes. (And I wonder why my child is fiercely, dramatically, uncompromisingly independent.)

I'm not sure which is worse, although my instincts say the first one. My first folly was thinking I had to have a man to complete me, to complete us. My second was thinking that, in fact, I do have to do it all on my own to make it worthwhile.

I like to think that I'm a superhero, but maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm not Wonder Woman or a Powerpuff Girl. Maybe I *can't* save the world before bedtime.

It could be that I'm simply a human woman. One who now is perhaps a little too proud of the fact that she has done so much alone.

In the lonely days of my second trimester I discovered that I wasn't too proud to beg. I wanted Ri's dad back more than anything. I told him that I didn't know how to face all of this alone. Pregnancy. Childbirth. Raising a son. He told me that he knew I could do it, knew I'd be fine, because his mom had done it, and so could I. Well...his words proved to be true, but I can't say that I'd call them right. Because it isn't right. It isn't right that Riley thinks I'm both his mommy and his daddy. (Does that mean I'm also going to get a Father's Day present?) It isn't right that I went to every. single. doctor's appointment alone, including the 20-week ultrasound, to the shock of the ultrasound technician. It isn't right that we've spent the last three years living with my parents because I didn't have any better way to put a roof over our heads.

But I did those things. Alone. Because I had to.

But sometimes, being human, having no Y chromosome, I am tired of being alone. Sometimes the loneliness breaks me down...a little. Just a little. And in those moments I crave what so many people take for granted. In those moments I think I'd be willing to let go of some of my pride in exchange for someone to hold me and tell me it's going to all be okay. Someday.

And then ideally he'd bring me ice cream.

PS: I didn't realize until I looked at the picture info that both of them were taken in the month of March. I just wanted one older picture of us and one newer picture. Apparently March is a good month for taking webcam pictures.



Sunday, May 20, 2012

Katniss of Shalott



Late Thursday Morning

I awoke in a tower
High, untouchable
Not really sure how I got here
Alone with my mirror, my loom
Bow and arrows and sharpened wit
No doors
Just a window
I looked down...then away
Dizzy
But I could do this
Alone

I saw them coming
Princes, knights, vagabonds
Scaling the wall to reach me
Bastards
So I grabbed my bow
Shot them down
One
By one

This tower
This prison
High
Real
Somehow I'd find my way out
Or die trying
Or die here
But if I can't rescue myself I don't think I'm worth saving

*****

If I was any good at Photoshop (or drawing) I'd composite a picture for this post with a gray brick tower in a grassy field, a girl in the window with her bow and arrow drawn, magnificent green gown, Katniss's side braid but Jennifer Lawrence's natural blonde hair. Muted colors. The word independence etched subtly in the bricks, folly scrawled into the window ledge.

Monday, May 07, 2012

This insomnia is getting bad



I had a breakthrough today. (By today I mean about 1:50am.) I made it through this entire video without crying. It was the second time in a row watching the video, and I bawled through the first go-through, like usual.

I'm not typically a cry-in-a-song-or-movie kind of girl. A lot of songs that are "supposed" to make you cry are really just emotionally manipulative and cliche, and I like to think that my journalism education helps me see through all that.

But this song is real. Real people with real stories of tragic heartbreak. And even though my story nothing like any of theirs, I, too, have a mountain to climb. Sometimes (read: most days) I just plain don't want to. I wonder why I've been dealt this hand. WHY?!?

But I keep climbing.

Also for the first time tonight I began to see how something good might come from my challenges. I can't make the past go away. Truth is, I will never again be the same person I was four years ago, or even four months ago.

And maybe that's okay.

Thursday, April 05, 2012

Merit badge

Photobucket

This is not a pretty picture of me, but it's one that I'm proud of.

I've never been a boy scout or girl scout, but climbing up a mountain (hill? whatever Tablerock is...) with a child on my back earns me some kind of Single Mom Merit Badge.

Right?

I wish I would have written this blog a week and a half ago, when all of this was fresh in my mind. I'd composed most of this in my head while I was hiking. It was pretty good, too.

I hiked up Tablerock with a BIG group of single people from my church. My son wasn't the only kid there, but I'm fairly sure that at age 2 he was the youngest. I knew he'd want to try to walk the whole way, but brought a backpack for him to ride in, just in case.

It wasn't easy. I carried him on my back for most of the hike. It would have been more painful, but faster, to carry him the whole way. He liked walking...a little too much. And often he'd get distracted and want to take off to the side of the trail.

The last part of the Tablerock hike has these terrible switchbacks. I like to think that I'm in shape because I take the stairs up to the 3rd floor every day at work and sometimes I'll do a little yoga before bed. Yeah, I'm not. At least not in shape enough to hike uphill carrying 30 extra pounds without sweating like a PIG.

By that time I just wanted the hike to be over. OVER. I could see that almost everyone I came with was already up to the top. They'd been there a while. Part of me really wanted someone to look over the edge, see me struggling, and offer to help. Part of me didn't want that because I wanted to get to the top and say LOOK WHAT I DID ALL BY MYSELF.

I finally got to the top...turning the corner JUST as they were taking a big group picture. I know it's silly, but I felt so left out and forgotten. Embarrassed that I'd taken so long and there would be no photographic evidence that I was there with everyone else.

Fortunately, after climbing a mountain with a kid on your back, no one assumes that your bright red face is from shame and embarrassment.

Oh, and the toddler who couldn't keep up with me on the hike up? Ran the whole way down and my exhausted adult body couldn't keep up with him!

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

"The trouble is, my mind changes and then I have to get acquainted with it all over again."

Exceprts from Anne of the Island by LM Montgomery

Chapter XX

Gilbert Speaks


Anne got herself to her room, sat down on her window seat behind the pines, and cried bitterly. She felt as if something incalculably precious had gone out of her life. It was Gilbert's friendship, of course. Oh, why must she lose it after this fashion?


"What is the matter, honey?" asked Phil, coming in through the moonlit gloom.

Anne did not answer. At that moment she wished Phil were a thousand miles away.

"I suppose you've gone and refused Gilbert Blythe. You are an idiot, Anne Shirley!"

"Do you call it idiotic to refuse to marry a man I don't love?" said Anne coldly, goaded to reply.

"You don't know love when you see it. You've tricked something out with your imagination that you think love, and you expect the real thing to look like that. There, that's the first sensible thing I've ever said in my life. I wonder how I managed it?"

"Phil," pleaded Anne, "please go away and leave me alone for a little while. My world has tumbled into pieces. I want to reconstruct it."

"Without any Gilbert in it?" said Phil, going.

A world without any Gilbert in it! Anne repeated the words drearily. Would it not be a very lonely, forlorn place? Well, it was all Gilbert's fault. He had spoiled their beautiful comradeship. She must just learn to live without it.

Chapter XXXVIII

False Dawn

When Roy had gone she sat for a long time in the pavilion, watching a white mist creeping subtly and remorselessly landward up the harbor. It was her hour of humiliation and self-contempt and shame. Their waves went over her. And yet, underneath it all, was a queer sense of recovered freedom.


She slipped into Patty's Place in the dusk and escaped to her room. But Phil was there on the window seat.

"Wait," said Anne, flushing to anticipate the scene. "Wait til you hear what I have to say. Phil, Roy asked me to marry him-and I refused."

"You -- you REFUSED him?" said Phil blankly.

"Yes."

"Anne Shirley, are you in your senses?"

"I think so," said Anne wearily. "Oh, Phil, don't scold me. You don't understand."

"I certainly don't understand. You've encouraged Roy Gardner in every way for two years -- and now you tell me you've refused him. Then you've just been flirting scandalously with him. Anne, I couldn't have believed it of YOU."

"I WASN'T flirting with him -- I honestly thought I cared up to the last minute -- and then -- well, I just knew I NEVER could marry him."

"I suppose," said Phil cruelly, "that you intended to marry him for his money, and then your better self rose up and prevented you."

"I DIDN'T. I never thought about his money. Oh, I can't explain it to you any more than I could to him."

"Well, I certainly think you have treated Roy shamefully," said Phil in exasperation. "He's handsome and clever and rich and good. What more do you want?"

"I want some one who BELONGS in my life. He doesn't. I was swept off my feet at first by his good looks and knack of paying romantic compliments; and later on I thought I MUST be in love because he was my dark-eyed ideal."

"I am bad enough for not knowing my own mind, but you are worse," said Phil.

"_I_ DO know my own mind," protested Anne. "The trouble is, my mind changes and then I have to get acquainted with it all over again."

"Well, I suppose there is no use in saying anything to you."

"There is no need, Phil. I'm in the dust. This has spoiled everything backwards. I can never think of Redmond days without recalling the humiliation of this evening. Roy despises me -- and you despise me -- and I despise myself."

"You poor darling," said Phil, melting. "Just come here and let me comfort you. I've no right to scold you. I'd have married Alec or Alonzo if I hadn't met Jo. Oh, Anne, things are so mixed-up in real life. They aren't clear-cut and trimmed off, as they are in novels."

"I hope that NO one will ever again ask me to marry him as long as I live," sobbed poor Anne, devoutly believing that she meant it.

Friday, February 24, 2012

I am Jane Bennet

Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then. It is something to think of, and gives her a sort of distinction among her companions.

I am Jane Bennet.

Jane's story is something like this: She was the pretty one. (Oh! she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld!) She fell in love with this moderately rich guy, Bingley. Only, she held back from showing too much emotion so his friends convinced him she didn't care for him and he moved back to London. (And then later he came back and they lived happily ever after.)

I've always thought that of any Pride & Prejudice character I'd be spunky Elizabeth or maybe even flighty Lydia. And I can't help but notice my similarities to plain Charlotte, who as an old maid at 27 was becoming a burden to her parents.

But shy, reserved Jane? Never would have thought that was me. Turns out I was wrong.

I have this friend. She is amazingly raw and open on her blog. Sometimes I aspire for my blog to be like that, but I just don't know if I can manage that much openness.

I hold back. Sometimes to a fault, I've been told.

If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark....There are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. In nine cases out of ten, a woman had better shew more affection than she feels.

It's easier that way, not telling people how I feel. Letting them think they know everything, when they really only see ten percent of the iceberg.

Lately, however, my blog posts (and my emotions) have been more raw. More open. More honest. I suppose I feel I might as well because there's nothing to lose by being honest. Right?

I've been mentally composing this post for a month and a half, ever since I realized how thoroughly I hold back, and the negative effects it may or may not have on my life. Since then, however, my circumstances have changed some. I didn't think I held back anymore.

But I do. Of course I do.

There are different ways to hold back, different things I don't say to so many different people:

Hey, I kinda like you.

I've loved you silently for a long, long time.

I'm terrified.

I respect you but have no desire to be anything like you.

I changed my mind. Again. And I can't promise it won't change back tomorrow.

This is all new and different to me.

Are you ever going to talk to me, odd headphone-wearing coworker, or just walk by my desk 50 times a day?

It's important to keep in mind that I am being genuine. She is not acting by design. As yet, she cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard, nor of its reasonableness. I don't hold back as part of some game or power struggle. Often I don't even know I'm doing it.

Until it's done and over with.

So...why? Because people pleasing is hard wired into me, I guess. I tell people what I think they want to hear. Sometimes I wonder if anyone knows the real me. If I even do. And all of this holding back isn't exactly productive. I hate that sometimes those I care about most don't know until it's too late to change the course our lives have taken. I hate that sometimes I feel like I'm SCREAMING inside when I look like I'm placidly smiling and nodding.

So here I am. Jane Bennet. The one who holds back.

At least I get to be the pretty one.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Let's open the archives

November 16, 2011
This. Is. Misery.


I stood still
For the longest time
As you spun
And then I began to move
You the earth and I the moon
Neither still long enough to see, too see
Eventually you will cut me lose
Long enough
For my bloody, broken remains
To crawl to something beautiful
And this time
This time
I won't let it go
Or, perhaps I will, Maybe
I can be unpredictable, too


*****


May 28, 2011
Steel plated


This is like road rash
In the same way that childbirth is like a mild back ache
My heart hasn't been dragged through the mud
It's been tied to the bumper of your 4-wheel drive and splattered all the way up and down I-35
I need steel plates and a guard dragon
To protect it long enough to make it whole
Again
I need bumper lanes and training wheels
And a secret service detail
To save me from myself
And the worst part is how it doesn't hurt
The nerves were irreparably damaged years ago
Years ago


*****


November 24, 2007
bridge


i stood there for the longest time
pacing
over slats of wood
fingering the match in my hand
i saw the green on either side of me
and i didn't know how to get there
i just knew that i was no longer
content to stay
where i had been
the stagnant wood was not enough
i wanted something green
something alive
so finally after i could pace no more
i struck the match
watch it burn until it hit my fingertips
surprised at the pain
i dropped it
and everything lit up so quickly
the bridge went up in flames
around me
keeping me from land
the flames took everything from under me
it was too late when i realized that
i, too, would fall
tumbling end over end into the ravine
followed by the burning debris
that i created


*****


March 12, 2010
Harmony


It's a last song
Tapped out on a trumpet
A folded flag
Probably the biggest flag I've ever seen close up
It sits in a case in my mother's living room
While you rest
Under the ground
We didn't talk much about the war
If you struck out for honor or adventure
Although I never doubted that you were anything
But honorable
It was a long walk to the recruiting station
So you hitched a ride
Stood in line and they let you in despite a bad eye
You served
And lived in service
Three score and five more years
Through tragedy and anguish
Loneliness
With love and family and laughter
Deviled eggs and clam chowder
Harmonica in hand
Wit ever ready
To be remembered for generations


*****


March 16, 2010
The innocent


You don’t even know what you’re missing
You just blaze
Blissfully
Through life
A fireball of happiness
And I hope that will last
I hope
Because someday you will know
What I can’t give you myself
I don’t know how you’ll react
If you’ll miss it
Or disregard it


*****


October 25, 2005
Occasion

There's light again
New light
Except not really
The light was continual
It was I
Who for a moment
(An occasion)
Darkened my window
And told the light to go away
So the light never changed
But I did
And after writhing in the dark
I realized
That I needed the light
That the window would not
Clean itself
I've come to a point now
Where the corner is clean
Enough to let in
One shaft
Of new light
The Sun gave me occasion
And rebirth

*****


February 10, 2007
William didn't Tell

Such a fine archer
With sharpest arrows
And a bow of curious workmanship
That I knew could do damage
But also struck me with awe
So that I let you come near to me
I let you practice for
A real target
Until you drew blood and tears
And I told you to put away your weapons
You nodded and you did
But that didn't stop us, did it?
I still remained within dangerous proximity
Of the tips
And you still stood with your bow flexed
Ready to fire
You were surprised when I told you how afraid I was
And again you pretended to put it all away
But your actions changed my mind
Melted my fear
Even to the point of me standing
Against the wall
With an apple on my head
Asking you to shoot because I knew
It wouldn't hurt
It wouldn't hurt me
Your aim was true, and you pulled the bow back
It was only after you released
That I realized you'd lowered your hand at the last moment
And I knew what part of me you intended to pierce
As the shaft cut through my heart

*****


March 11, 2007
spontaneous combustion

i was trying to compose a poem using logic
but that won't work, will it?
because this isn't about logic
this is about laughter and friendship
and souls
and smiles. this is certainly about smiles
but mostly this is about me realizing me
and taking her advice for the first time
(how much she's wanted that for 23 years)
and this is me knowing that it's okay to use logic
it's okay to think things through
whereas before i would mostly just spontaneously combust
and that hurt -- that hurt a lot
to the point that time is still working to heal me
and this is about compassion
because those weren't your wounds to dress
but you did it anyway.
perhaps on accident
but you did it anyway


*****


August 10, 2009
penultimate

i inflicted the first damage
not that i didn't have help
i ran
headfirst
into that brick wall
over
and over again
i grew tired of pain
came to see you
you brought others
and an axe you called a band-aid
the judge swung down
leaving a single tendon
still intact in my neck
so that healing would be slow, methodical
and if i came near one more time
you'd finish the job
and for a moment i would spring to life
then die forever

*****March 20, 2007
nehalem bay

she stood by the ocean
people drown in the ocean
she started to dip in a toe but then backed away
stepping back once, twice, four times
other people survive the oceans
they discover new things, new places of being

so she reconsidered
and stepped forward
again
her ankles were wet
and there was so much more out there
but she stood still, letting her toes dig in the sand
those waves are bigger than i am
a step back
but she kept the water still running across the tops of her feet
the ocean is bigger than anything else i've fallen into
her face turned, but her feet did not moved
i've been sucked in by rivers
panicked

her eyes closed and her face turned back
she put one foot behind her just enough to get a running start
and then rushed forward until the water hit
her at the waist
and then she jumped
falling into the waves
and when the water went up over her head
this time
she didn't panic
but instead simply felt each molecule of water embrace her skin
and when she surfaced she took another breath
i almost drowned before
in something shallower

but still she kicked into the water
knowing that if she drowned, she drowned
but she probably wouldn't


*****


December 17, 2004
Skin

I wanted a notion
A way to express
This explosion
That I suspect is only a spark
Making me brighter than
I have ever been
Ever been

I float inside
And I fall
To only know
You were walking from my door
And a thought of me is
Inside that head

Never before have I
So needed my skin
To keep me
To keep me inside it
A nuclear reaction
From skin
On skin
Fingerprints melding
To become One Identity


*****


August 1, 2010
Shampoo & Cigarettes


It's my fault, really
Between the dehydration and the jumping the gun
And the part where I get mad at real you for not being more like imaginary you
I really don't know how to compromise
But I probably should learn
Hell, maybe you could teach me (Maybe you'll have to)
And it's funny how despite the bitter taste
In my mouth from how it all went down (down, down, down)
The whole night was still pretty much amazing
And you did ask
So I can't say you never do
And I can stamp my foot and cross my arms
And you just stand their with your own arms crossed and glare at me
Damn you for responding how I need and not how i want
Or have learned to expect)
It's kinda worth it, though

*****July 12, 2010
stone walled

so you found her
in a basement
dirty, naked, and chained
hand and foot to the walls of stone
she held a knife in her teeth
ridiculously beautiful even under the filth
who would dare keep such a thing
captive
you couldn't help it
you walked closer
she spit the knife at you and you just stepped over it
and there
between her teeth
was the key that you could have used
could have
used to set her free
but she just swallowed the damn thing
and laughed like a hyena

*****


June 20, 2010
dante's implosion


it's the cool burn you have to watch out for
the girl in me who laughs as i break every single thing you own
the one who acknowledges the existence of a silver lining
somewhere in the not too distant future
but can only see blackness and doesn't want to wait
doesn't want to wait
i lose control with the heat of passion
but this, this coldness
lets me control every ounce of power i have
and pour all of it into my hatred for you
yes, hatred, because that's what love becomes after rigor mortis leaves it cold and stiff
the steel out of the fire and into the water
solid enough to cut you in half
but you jump out of the way
probably
and just leave me to gouge open myself
since, after all
it's no less than i deserve


*****


May 11, 2010
phoenix/fawkes


after the flames had died away
i began to be self aware
there wasn't much left of me
and what there was felt pain
burning
everywhere
i could work with pain
so i organized it
becoming a statue of spark and ash
molded into a work of art
but it wasn't enough
i wanted it to have life
to be me again
so i built and built
became something half human, half phoenix
and just
when i was almost satisfied with the outcome
i burst into flames
again


*****


May 5, 2010
Heap


Someday, someone is going to find me in a heap
My legs bruised and bloodied
Black stream tear streaks covering my face
Too broken to stand
Too weak to keep my face dry
And whoever it is that finds me
Will probably shake their head
And think that's so typical of me
And they'd be right
They'd be right


*****


March 27, 2010
torch

he held a torch for her
through timezones and language barriers
and still he held on
she went on with her own life
and still he held on
and still he held on
the flame dimming and brightening
wishing
hoping
for a resurgence of the initial spark
and timing never was on his side
but that didn't stop him from hoping
until one day
when fate (or her minion)
brought them to the same place
at the same time
and in veiled tones
he finally made an offer
which of course she rejected because she didn't even know
didn't know
what he was asking
and he flew away
head hung low, dejected
never knowing that she would have said yes
(in a heartbeat)
if he'd just used plain english


*****


February 22, 2012
Fantine


I used to be a perpetual Roman candle of pain
Sputtering misery everywhere
Everywhere
And now, or so I've heard, I'm gushing happiness
But how long until that bleeds me dry
And I'm as dry, bitter, and brittle as ever?
How long until I shatter
Again
Wait
Enough
No more talk of darkness
And pain
This is beautiful
Enjoy it
Embrace it
I should remember my name, believe it
And stop being afraid
To fly


*****


Approx. February 2010
Carry


Carry this
He said
You aren't the only one who can
But perhaps the only one
Who should
And don't worry
Because you are strong
Enough
To carry this alone
But I'll be there
To carry this with you
I laughed
He wasn't serious
And I said it would not be so bad
I didn't know
What he left behind
Except
I did wonder, expect, mispunctuate
I told him I would
I'd carry it for him
It was already in my hands
When I supplicated for assistance
You don't need me
He said
You are storng
And it isn't much now
So I will wait
And then when you really need me
Then I will rush
To carry this with you
Days
Weeks
Winters passed
Filled with words
But never actions
It grew heavy
Heavy until my arms ached
I could not carry it
Alone
I will, he said, help you
But not today
Crushing
Drowning
Consuming me
And still he gave only words
Others saw me
Struggling to carry the world
Alone
They offered to lift my arms
Pull me up
I hesitated, then accepted
Recovery ensued
You smiled and apologized
More words
More promises
And you still haven't lifted a finger