let's be honest

i took this picture at an art show i went to a few weeks ago. i really only posted it today because i feel very ordinary. and plain. and boring and i think somewhere i must think that by posting this picture it'll make me appear more exciting. like i do things. like go to art shows in oakland. and drink the free wine. and see people i kind of know. and give each other a wave. or a head nod. or whatever.

blood will

deny blood if the price is right
if the risk is too great
the chance to save face too high
if the payment brings enough pleasure
because it can't. won't.
refuses to see the end
when blood is all you got.
and its futile attempts
at kissing your ass
have failed to entertain
or protect its good name.

it's like

stretching. and like getting ripped to shreds. and questioning how you've gotten to where you are. and who you really are. and what you stand for. and the kind of person you want to be. like wondering if anyone feels like telling the truth or hearing yours. and questioning whether friends who said nice things in the good times meant them when it's bad. and it's like getting to a place in your life where you really like yourself and then forgetting why. it's like refusing to see people as the sum of their mistakes. but acknowledging that we all make our own beds. it's like giving all you've got with the best of intentions and then realizing that for some people that will never be enough.

help

i love november and leaves and cider and pumpkins and season appropriate poetry and naps and books and road trips and robes.

i obviously don't mind bad punctuation when i'm in a rush to say something.

i do however hate apathy.

oh and...

thanks to two of my loveliest friends on the planet, who happen to be married, i had my hand at rekindling the creativity i've been hard pressed to muster and got a great new pair of boots in the process.

photographic evidence:

camel 99's

it makes me sad to think i left this much time unaccounted for with words. it has been hard to find them. my life has in many ways been a whirlwind these past months and i am just now beginning to have the energy to come back to center. i don't have much to say to convey the chaos. or the joy. or the heartbreak. but i am willing to make decisions, however hard, to rebuild a life in which i am comfortable creating and dreaming and growing again. i've made nice with some beautiful new people who like having me around. i have my 'baby' brothers with me once again and am enjoying watching them become men. good men. and have also come to understand that people you love will sometimes do ugly things and it doesn't mean you have stop loving them. just maybe stop living with them. i've spent the majority of the last couple years feeling as though i am on the verge of something big. and as the pieces slowly start to shift and take shape in the corners of my puzzle-life i am feeling excited again. i'm closer to the edge than i was before and as long as i stay brave i think the things i am passionate about doing with my time here will come to be. and soon.

i'm thinking on a lot. and trying to keep my boots light.

cinnamon lies-finished and renamed

so i finished it. my brother had a guitar part he could never quite put lyrics to. i sang him the start to the song i couldn't finish and in an hour we had this piece hammered out. it is special to both of us. and very personal. he really pushed me to be honest about my pain and it brought closure and bravery to a situation that previously had none. that fact is reflected in the last verse. he sings a beautiful harmony on both the chorus and bridge. we should be performing it live along with the other music our group has been working on very soon. recording in two weeks. eeep.

your liver and i

sometimes your lips taste like cinnamon
sometimes they taste like lies
don't tell me that there's no way around this
cause i've seen your insides and i won't settle

chorus:
oh he(she) looks at me
oh he(she) looks at me

sometimes the bottle gets the best of you
and the devil he is nipping at your toes
but i've never heard a sound ring so true
than when your fingers strike those ivory keys

oh he(she) looks at me
oh he(she) looks at me

bridge:
i think (i think) your liver and i feel the same
you've put us both (put us both) through so much pain
so go ahead (go ahead) drink your days away
there's got to be (got to be) another way

sometimes i can't make sense of the hold you got on me
and i've always wanted to keep that in
but someone we both know drug it out of me
and now its on the table not the bottom of the sea

oh he(she) looks at me
oh he(she) looks at me

sometimes your eyes burn holes in mine
maybe there's no way around it this time

what if

i did what i want to do right now. what if i took off in a car full of nothing but good music and cheap cigarettes. what if i took a map, but never looked at it. what if i stopped at truck stops and made small talk with waiters and truck driving men. what if i fell asleep in the back seat with no one else around. what if i could let myself be carefree. i've had enough of trying so damn hard. i want to get on the highway with no clear plan. i want to drive to the ocean and go skinny dipping without blinking an eye. what if i did. what if i stopped at every bar and flirted with the cowboys in front of their girlfriends. what if i finally wrote music for all the songs in my head. what if i drank good wine in vineyards and got asked to dance. i want to climb mountains and sleep next to streams. i want to ride a wave again. when did i stop fully living. what if i stopped stalling. i want skylines and sunshine. i want to actually cry without making myself stop or worrying about how red my face gets. i want to sing until i run out of words and keep my hand out the window through every state. what if i never let anything pass me by ever again. what if i loved fully and without out fear. what if i worked an honest day again. like that summer on the farm. got up with the sun and went to sleep to the sound of crickets and porch swings. what if i picked up a paint brush again. what if i danced in every rain storm and laughed at the lightning. i think i'll be finished with this halfway living thing now. i think i'll drop the what ifs off the front of every one of these sentences. no matter how long it takes. what if. i want to wake up every morning with a purpose. with a clear head and clean lungs. i want to live out every day so that by the end of it my muscles ache and my mind is eager for dreaming. i'm going to. i will. if i don't i think i'll die here. young. and lonely. and half the woman i know i could be.

the list

i'm afraid:

of growing up and being bored with life. of sitting across the table from my significant other and not having anything to talk about. or walking eight feet apart on the sidewalk. of not being able to laugh at myself. of never finding a love that lasts. or of not feeling secure in that love. of settling. of falling for you anyway. of my someday children hating me. of losing people i love to their pain and addiction. that recently i've compromised my values to make those around me feel better about themselves. of people meeting me and not recognizing god in my eyes. of never going after what i want most. of apathy. and procrastination. of wasting any day because each is a gift. and of letting myself chase after happy.

tales from the stoop

since moving to the city i've spent a lot of time 'stoopin' it." this secondary space will strictly contain tales from my front porch. it isn't much. just more of my silly observations of life, love, and people.

laughing with

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one’s laughing at God
When they’re starving or freezing or so very poor

No one laughs at God
When the doctor calls after some routine tests
No one’s laughing at God
When it’s gotten real late
And their kid’s not back from the party yet

No one laughs at God
When their airplane start to uncontrollably shake
No one’s laughing at God
When they see the one they love, hand in hand with someone else
And they hope that they’re mistaken

No one laughs at God
When the cops knock on their door
And they say we got some bad news, sir
No one’s laughing at God
When there’s a famine or fire or flood

But God can be funny
At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke, or
Or when the crazies say He hates us
And they get so red in the head you think they’re ‘bout to choke
God can be funny,
When told he’ll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious
Ha ha
Ha ha

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one’s laughing at God
When they’ve lost all they’ve got
And they don’t know what for

No one laughs at God on the day they realize
That the last sight they’ll ever see is a pair of hateful eyes
No one’s laughing at God when they’re saying their goodbyes
But God can be funny
At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke, or
Or when the crazies say He hates us
And they get so red in the head you think they’re ‘bout to choke
God can be funny,
When told he’ll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one laughing at God in hospital
No one’s laughing at God in a war
No one’s laughing at God when they’re starving or freezing or so very
poor

No one’s laughing at God
No one’s laughing at God
No one’s laughing at God
We’re all laughing with God

thanks regina. thanks quinny.

paranoid android

it took me half the distance home to make sense of the sinking feeling in my gut. it took me half the distance home to realize what exactly my heart was doing as i watched you get smaller in the rear view. it took me half the distance home to realize that i wasn't getting sick at all. no not dying. but coming alive. like i promised you were so many days ago as you lay shaking in my bed. it took me half the distance home to be honest with myself. and realize that falling might not be the worst thing i could do right now. what's wrong with hope?

however false?

pent up

i hopped a train to louisiana and i didn't think about you the whole way. i bit my fingernails until they bled. and i sang with a man who played the guitar like he was born holding it in his firm grip. i wouldn't let him touch me. i've never felt so alone while loving someone so well. and when my feet hit the bricks i thought long and hard about letting a street car hit me. but all i could see then was your face. and i hated you for being gone even when you're close. and being there even when i'm far.

-----------------------

i traced my fingers along all your scars. ones unseen. my favorites. the one under the left side of your rib cage with the ridges i love so much. the one above your collar bone that refuses to tan with the rest of you. the one down your middle. evidence that you've had every evil thing gutted from your belly and the only things put back in and sewed up were the good things. the beautiful things. like your green eyes in sunlight. like your strong fingers on pearly black and whites. like cigarette smoke trailing from your perfect mouth. your skin under water. or the sounds you make in sleep.

-----------------------

tip of the hat
top of the bottle
who wants the poison?
how do you make light
of shoe strings tied too tight?
make two bunny ears
one bunny goes around the tree
and into the hole
pull tight!
three times
i closed my eyes
loop swoop and pull

-----------------------

black curls shade blue windows to a soul less impure than she thinks. her heart bleeds gold. gold choked by neglect. strangled by fear and tempered by loneliness. but she shines in a dark room. questions her worth while proving it. and i wonder how i got so lucky as to share diluted blood with this broken angel.

the lost boys

castles built in forests far away
hold crumbling boys inside crumbling walls
where water runs from old mine shafts
and carves fissures in the rocks
like the fissures in their hearts
they climb and hide and play all day
and hit the lip when life gets heavy
one more sip equals one less worry
and they don't have to think about us
or the things that make them hate themselves
every few days or so they miss the warmth
and we find them on the side of the road
borrowed communication, stolen ash trays
pockets full of change and half smokes
at least we understand neverland
and that lost boys never grow up

burnt toast

don't do that.
don't be nice.
no airplanes.
no lingering hugs.
no sideways glances.
i can be your friend.
just not your toy.

cinnamon lies

so someone stoked a flame and i had my hand at writing songs whilst driving on mindless errands today. i came up with a chorus. don't be too hard on me. the melody really is pretty. perhaps i'll track the song's progress. if i don't forget about it in the move. to the bay. in three days. holy smokes.

sometimes your lips taste like cinnamon
and sometimes they taste like lies
don't tell me that there's no way around this
cause i've seen your insides
and i won't settle

i like eddie murphy's laugh

after two days of fever
did you wake up sober
and realize that i wasn't
exactly what you thought
or dreamt i was before
the alcohol seeped from
your pores and the parts
of you that thought
i was beautiful?
because my mind was clear
and i remember the details
the texture of your lips
all the games we played
and the pain you felt
that haunted your eyes
and i woke up in the middle
to make sure you were breathing
and let you squeeze my hand
when the pain was too much
you said you owed me your life
but i'd settle for a phone call.


nope. four.

new

you walked back into my life off the side of the road. and perhaps i let go, because you called me your wife so many times i believed it. but even if i'm not. i don't feel bad for feeling good. about your skin or the way you looked me in the eye.


i'm thinking of a number between one and ten.

hindsight is 20/20

i hate you. i hate that i don't. i hate second guessing and seeing your light through the darkness you put off. i hate that i got a taste of the person you are underneath your well constructed facade. i hate the half truth-bullshit-pride vortex in which we seem to reside. couldn't we just go back to that day on the tiles and decide to be friends? catch a glimpse of what we are now and conclude together that it would be better that way? then i could enjoy the person you are without being sore over your indecision and the omission of your life's details. your random contact gives me a buzz that's bad for my health. and i feel silly for feeling this way. for feeling anything at all. for spinning the lie that made you change your mind. but we can't go back. and i am begging the universe for the day i don't care.


i want to bleed. cry. laugh. and curse you out. and wash my hands of the mess we've made.

gonna need a shovel

i've been waiting. waiting for the damn in my heart to break wide open. and i was looking forward to the tears. i was hoping that once they started they wouldn't stop. until i was done crying out the last six months. all the dumb decisions i've made. all the surprises. all the rejection. and growth. and anger. and joy. but they didn't come the way i expected them to. and they stopped too soon. the words came out of his mouth so fast in that moment of unjustified anger. and i wasn't prepared. it felt like a slap across the face. and the tears burned just as bad. my eyes felt the way i imagine the dry, cracked, desert earth feels when the year's first rain falls. unfamiliar moisture against my parched eyelids. and for a moment i thought i could let it all go. i thought i could sneak off to my bed and let the monsoon have its way. and he would be all the more confused as to why such a petty argument could send me reeling in pain. but it wouldn't matter, because i could get some healing done. i watched him shake his head from the corner of my eye at the silent tears streaming down my face and the muffled sniffles coming from the chair adjacent to his. and it was enough. enough to make me feel silly. enough to make me question the validity of my tears. and i stopped. like clouds taking back the rain. i shoved it all down deeper and dried my eyes.

life is

beautiful
messy
exciting
excruciating
and full

i love the love, the pain, the friends, the loss, the mystery, and silver linings, the unexpected twists and turns, the things that make you live out your ideals instead of just talking about them, people who really care, and afternoons off. i love getting to know yourself all over again, the magic that happens along the way, strangers, and fresh flowers. i love god for this fractal we call human existence, for allowing me to get this far, for hope, and the ever waning fear that i am not who i am supposed to be. because he is satisfied with me just being who i am. and is helping me be satisfied too.

i tend

to overreact and assume quite a bit. what can i say? it's my forte.


that's my 'oops' face.

laughable

i may have given you too many points in the 'decent human being' category, but you definitely didn't give me enough in the 'not a dumb ass' one.

thanks for the memories

i'm not
gonna get crazy
or act a mess
i am
gonna be fine
and friendly


and nobody (including me) will be any wiser

aware

way up in the hill country
where the water runs fresh
and the grass grows green
where the air is clean
and the black top runs dry
where friends find tunnels
for fire, and music, and family
her eyes sparkle like stars
like stars you can see
before you reach the smog line
and then comes the concrete
and the man-made jungles
the familiar rug and resentments
and the true love friendships
that were formed before this bond
that somehow feed the black hunger
that now glazes her just-hours-ago
starry eyes and i am aware
aware of the change in my new friend
aware of her sunken-heart smiles
that even she can't explain
and i am aware, so aware
of how happy i want her to be
how clean, and safe, and happy

they're on to you

give me a new face
like dillinger
don't change too much
just enough to fool the spies
remove my finger prints
so i can touch you
without being discovered
or named public enemy no. one

broken

the center of my body is a black hole
it feels like some gravitational force
is eating my heart and my fingers and my toes
i can feel myself getting sucked up
right into the center of me
and i want to crawl out
to fling my arms wide and force the hole
to give me back the parts of me that are lost
and i want to be left alone
and i don't want to think about you anymore
and i don't want my stomach to ache so badly
i want to stretch my legs and feel the sun on my cheeks
to feel grass and dirt and bugs in between my toes
i wish that the tears in my throat would come unstuck
and that with the torrent every trace of longing
would be washed down the drain swirling twirling oblivion
i hate the complexity of human emotion and the passage of time
i hate that words can cut and crush and burn
and when said just right and at just the right time
they make me twist and change and lie
typing is now hard as my back curls under the force
the pull is getting stronger and i
am disappearing

clean your pipes

i love

battle rolls
getting the winning half of a battle roll
cigarettes (oh the shame!)
chipped nail polish (new development: i've let go of perfection)
learning new harmonies
books books books
sleepovers
having things to look forward to
getting my vampire teeth
and
making more of these lists
as i let myself discover

happiest

of birthdays, my dear friend. i'm glad you were born.

we've been

doing this dance for seven months
my feet are tired
my bones ache
my heart is raw
i see reflections of this story
in pools of barley water
and i realize
on a long silent drive
that i can't do it this way
and i won't
be untrue to the girl
buried underneath the lace
and pretense
and substance
and i won't take care of you
until you take care of me
and if you refuse
i will refuse

lucky

i could live happily with your hands in my hair.

as green as

the shoes on her feet
won't carry her
as far as
the illusions of
the life she lived before
she is the same in theory
opposite in action
it feels like a dream
or a deja vu of fear
from swing sets on
she made promises
she couldn't keep and
now that they're broken
she can't likely take
a step in the right
wrong direction while
investing in such
a ludicrous fare
and when the sun rises
and the birds begin
to sing aloud her song
she can't help but
sleep and shake her head
at the difference in her heart

stranger things

pebbled steps
the sweet smell of
an unidentifiable plant
wooden boards
creek under our feet
as our laughter
spills
onto the streets
and the people below
weeds
as tall as your knees
spotted cats make their escape
iron clad backyards
and beautiful people
with tangles in their hair
and in their hearts
new music
on shiny discs
handwritten friendship
and time spent
on ancient flowers

covered wagons

is there a word to describe the sound it makes against metal?

tink

tink

does not adequately explain the sound
of
the tap of the cigarette against the rim
or
the beating of my heart against your tin
exterior
inferior
feelings are against your pride

and is there a word for the invisible force?
or the sound it makes against flesh?

no.

most definately not.

maybe it's like magnets. or the pull of the moon.

and

as much as i love them. i've given up on finding the words.

the happiness equation

an adorable apartment in a three story victiorian + a garden + a bicycle + public transportation + two of the most badass roommates a girl could ask for + a plethora of new possibilites

=

me moving to alameda in two months and one day!!!!!!! san francisco bay area, late nights, good laughs, great new friends, thai food, and independence here i come!!



life is good. and when you're not looking. and when you're least expecting it to. it comes together. the things that make me happy may seem simple. but maybe i am a simple girl after all...

this flower won't wilt

for reals.


the air is warm tonight. fresh cut flowers in my hair. moonlight knives slice through the trees. i laugh at the bruises on my legs as i undress. evidence of my newly amplified clumsiness. i don't feel lonely as i light my candles. or turn back the covers. i don't feel lonely when i brush my teeth. or tune the radio to my favourite classical station. i don't feel lonely sitting on my bed writing this. or even when i think of you. that's not to say i do not miss you. and that is not to say that i am not fighting myself. every. step. of the way. my stubborn nature won't let me. let you. go. but. perhaps. for now. this few and far between. is for the best.

at least let me be your friend.

damn. damn. damnit!



it cannot be this complicated.

what are the chances

thought one:
there is some sort of biker rally in town. you can hear the hum of motorcycles up and down the streets of these mountain towns. driving home this morning after dropping rory at the tracks, i had several of them behind me. as others would pass they would wave to eachother. as if to say hi. i'm a biker. i see you're a biker too. we're all looking for unity aren't we? we all want to identify with something. even if it means identifying with other people who don't want to identify themselves with anything. as i watched in the rearview for the next wave, i smiled to myself and wondered why we all couldn't wave to eachother as we pass. to say hi. i'm human. i see you're human too. a drive-by-namaste. if you will. i giggled at that last line as i typed it.

thought two:
i find it interesting to take photographs of yourself at seemingly unimportant times in your life. like when you're thinking on a lot. or you have really heavy boots. or when things are just right. today i'm thinking on a lot and i decided to snap a photo to see if i could see it in my own eyes. i can.
can you?

ooo. postsecret sunday. i almost forgot.

sometimes the weepies

say it for you.

when i get up in the morning, put the kettle on
make us some coffee, say hey to the sun
is it enough to write a song, and sing it to the birds
they'd hear just the tune, not understand my love for words

but you would hear me and know...
that i want to live this
i want to live
i want to live a simple life

i dreamed you first, but not so real
and every day since I found you, such moments we steal
like little thieves, we rub our hands
and hold our hearts between them

but will you hear me and know...
that i want to live this
i want to live
i want to live a simple life

move on, move on, time is accelerating
drive on, all night, traffic lights and one ways
move on, move on parking violations waiting
turn off the car, breathe the air, let's stay here

i'll kiss you awake, and we'll have time
to know our neighbors all by name, and every star at night
we'll weave our days together like waves, and particles of light

i want to live this
i want to live
i want to live a simple life
i want to live this
i want to live
i want to live a simple life

when you can't

think of anything else to do.
remember your purpose...


we are about ending poverty, not simply managing it. we give people fish. we teach them to fish. we tear down the walls that have been building up around the fish pond and we find out who polluted it. we fight terrorism; the terrorism inside each of us, the terrorism of corporate greed, of american consumerism or war. we are not pacifist hippies but passionate lovers who abhor passivity and violence. we spend our lives actively resisting everything that destroys life. whether that be terrorism or the war on terrorism. we try to make the world safe as long as millions live in poverty so the few can live as they wish. we believe in another way of life-the kingdom of God-which stands in opposition to the principles, powers, and rulers of this dark world.

-the irresistible revolution

jump back. jump back. rewind.

jump back. jump back. rewind. back to that part. right there. when i was new. and you weren't angry. with our simple unknowing smiles. your head tossed back. my hips around a beat. funny shoes. and wild hair. that room spun until it was empty. i didn't know anyone else was there until it was time to drive home. ink in your palm. ten numbers strung together to equal a voice on the other end. jump back. jump back. rewind. back to that part two. right there. two stools. two voices. face to face. that bar spun until it was empty. i didn't know anyone else was there until it was time to walk home. jump back. jump back. rewind. back to that part three. right there. ten digits had failed to equal a voice on the other end for too long. new year. not a new you. i saw you from across the room and swore then and there i could find your eyes in the dark. i was proud to know you in a room littered with strangers. i could feel your beats in my chest. that venue spun until it was empty. i didn't know anyone else was there until it was time to go home. you came with. and hugged me like you meant it. despite all the silence.

then it happened.

the split.

that part i'd take back.

that part that's made everything since then so muddled. like looking at something beautiful through broken glass. i'd apparently brought back a christmas package full of fear. and i opened it in my house. you stayed when no one else would have. i sat inside my unpacked suitcase. fourty nine across. four letter word for jail on the high seas. i took a polaroid of myself to see if i was still me. i'm surprised it didn't develop with the word 'liar' tattooed across my forehead.

and now i'm sitting here trying so hard to wrap my head around the two and half months since. around the last four days. and i can't. the glass is even more broken now. parts of it are ground as fine as sand by the passage of time and tears. and i wish more than anything i could take it back. not all the good, the bad, or the akward. not your laughter. just the parts where my pride had me in a chokehold. just the part where i lied. just the part where i became someone other than me while you were sleeping.

waiting is painful. forgetting is painful. but not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering.

the sound of your voice nearly broke me in half

i betrayed myself too.


i couldn't be more sorry.

questionsfour

smoke and mirrors
silver spoon spree
life in the shadows
of the girl she used to be
when did this start?
how?
how do you let slip?
why does his smile
flash
flash before her eyes?
why do visions of his and
the wave of his half open palm
ushering out his abuse
make her ache?
and is it sad she's still happy
or happy she's not sad?

i am mildly

obsessed with melty beads and seeing what new creations i can come up with for necklaces and the like. today's creation for your viewing pleasure:



it is most assuredly not my best work and looks a bit like a baseball diamond. but nonetheless. go mets? and for the record: i do not wear purple polo shirts by choice. oh the hazards of job-mandated-wardrobes.

mirror, mirror

on the floor. whose the most unidentifiable of them all?

sometimes she acts like she's seventeen again. like she'd do anything to herself on the outside to kill the pain on the inside. like she hasn't already learned the lesson a thousand times. that no matter what she does under the cover of night, the sun will rise bright and piercing and make it burn more in the morning.

i am

many things. but among those many things. i am. enjoying my life to the max. i am a new dress. that looks damn good. i am early morning walks. to kiss the old man who died this week. the one i waved hello to every morning on my way to work. i am a sip of budweiser in his honor.

i am gearing up: for city life. for dressing like i want to. wigs. leggings. boots with socks that stick out. homemade jewelry. seeing bands every other night. being a few blocks from you. and your dog. and your kitchen. and your bed. and your movie collection. an apartment with the cousin in the heart of oak-eezy. for dancing all night. for feeling beautiful. for pbr. and tattoos. for a job that means something to me. and making cookies to pass out to people that ask for change. for thrift store t-shirts and new and used records. for discovering. and not feeling guilty. for knowing more of You in the heart of suffering. for living and breathing and loving every minute of this life.

i just got

schooled at yo-yo by an eleven year old.

---------------------------------------

i'm making a make-shift will. not because i think i'm going to die, but because if i do i would want the people i love to have the pieces of me that i picked for them. my cousin rory and i have the uncanny ability to communicate with little or no words. after a couple of drinks the other night i started this conversation by saying "if i die, i want you to have..." she didn't really flinch, but asked me to please not die anytime soon. she promised she would keep a record of the things certain people get. recently i've been adding to the list by simply saying "so and so gets such and such." she just nods and points to her dome as if to say "got it." i figure i'll start writing it down soon though, because she has many important things to keep in that pretty little head of hers and i don't want to become a burden.

shredded

my little heart is torn up today. in tiny strips that resemble scraps of newspaper. they're littered with fragments of words. spoken and not. promises kept and broken. pieces of black and white photographs of moments burned in. sage advice. holy texts. lies. and truth. i have half a mind to put them out on the porch and let today's cool breezes carry them away. they would be of better use to someone feeling the same things than they are to me at this moment. but instead i frantically try to gather them off the livingroom floor. out from under the sofa. from atop the bookshelf. and behind my favorite dress hanging in the closet. i'd hot glue them back together. but i am out of glue sticks. and out of time. and out of hope for my present situation. tomorrow may look brighter. but today is torture.

what i like about you

.you know yourself
.you don't compromise that for anything
.you hate fast food and cigarettes
.you make me want to be a better person
.your eyes sparkle. always.
.you do thoughtful things even when you don't think i'm watching
.you make me laugh
.you make me uncomfortable
.my brains don't intimidate you
.you're cheeky as all get out
.you love your friends and you tell them so
.you don't complain. even when you could
.you let me explore your world. and your tattoos
.you play with your hair when you're thinking
.and smell mine all the time
.you keep me guessing
.but you say what you mean
.people are drawn to you
.but you pick me out of the crowd
.and you make magic happen when you touch a drum set
.or a guitar
.or a piano
.or me

it's been

almost three years and when i ran across your picture today i shook my head and realized that i still cannot believe you are dead.

and i probably never will.

speak no evil

sometimes i am such a royal ass! i say the opposite of what i mean. and make people i genuinely like and want to spend time with feel awkward and unsure. and it's not even like i'm actually mean. just passive aggressive. because whenever i meet someone that i actually dig (we're talking about a boy incase you haven't caught on) and my pride is threatened in anyway, i react to their often earnest attempts in the lamest way. (i promise i didn't vocalize any of this to him) but i'm mad that he doesn't call and then mad when he does, because it's so late and the phone he's talking on has crap reception and he sounds like a broken intercom at a late night fast food joint. "i said no cheese! not mo' cheese!" and when we get off the phone, with him trying to tell me he'll call me in the morning through all the static on his end and all the bullshit on mine, i realize what i meant to say was, "i got the dumbest grin on my face when you called. it is so good to hear your voice. i really could have used one of your hugs today. yes, i'm so stoked that you're in town. of course i want to hang out. i'm glad practice went well and am excited you have so many shows booked in the area. it means i get to see more of that handsome face. have a terribly fantastic night and call me in the morning."

damn.

i am going to be the girl he fell for three months ago when he calls in the morning. if he calls. i wouldn't call me if i were him. god, i hope he calls.

shhhh...

'a doubt comes to lie at the back of my mind that i'll offer You me and You'll politely decline.'

am i any good at this? this messy live-love-bring light to the darkness thing? i very much dislike the days that i question Your purpose in me. it gives me really heavy boots.

in other news i am really enjoying the idea of guerilla gardening...

the more

questions asked of me about who you are and what it means to believe in you, the closer i get to vocalizing and understanding my own brokenness. everyone's brokenness. our collective. seperation. from what you meant to do in the beginning. and the more i believe in grace. and unity. and the love that surpasses all understanding. mine or anyone else's. and the more i am convinced against legalislating morality or ostracizing any single person or groups of persons who do not fit into some man-made mold. i think i know somewhere in my heart that we are here to build upon the kingdom in whatever small way we can and to recognize and cultivate beauty where hardened hearts are blind to it. and that we as a creation are bigger than these earthly bodies or earthly woes. to quote 'the last unicorn' (because i can't help it) when the magician accidentally turns the unicorn into a woman to save her from the red bull, her reaction "what have you done to me? what have you done to me? i can feel this body dying all around me." and his response "it's only for a little while. i promise you. soon you'll have your true shape back. forever." make me ache for the day when the ultimate truth and our true makings will be revealed to all and we will meet you and see the beauty of the struggle in getting there.

get hip to this

i watch this on repeat. i can't even help it.

oakland rain

you



me



opposite sides
of the tracks
is a bit of
an understatement
wouldn't you say?
i want to know
you and your marks
i want to spend
hours investigating
the ink in your skin,
the stains on your sheets
and the rifts in your heart
left by other girls
and make you bandages and breakfast



he swaggers when he steps
as the gutters fill with water
rushing. gushing. symphony of sounds
city songs, i call them
and i close my eyes
take a breath
take a step onto MLK
his fingers are covered
blood red paint splattered
i see evidence of his deviant
art on every corner of this city
i walk alone save his watchful eye
the drops drop bigger than before
hood up. quicken your toes girl
heavy bags. arms sigh as i reach his street
drip. drop. splash. puddles. ruined boots
to the iron clad front stoop
i'm going to need a key
to more than just his door.

and a clean pan for these eggs.

the last unicorn

dear god,

thank you for life. and breath. and air. and family. and hearts. even when their beats are irregular. thank you for letting me witness people's wake up calls. and second. third. tenth. or one hundreth chances. thank you for warm showers. clean water. food aplenty. and your timing. for intuition. and understanding. for stars. and rain. and sunsets. for putting us on our knees when we think we don't need you. and helping us stand when we don't stand a chance. we can't ever repay you. thanks for not expecting us to.

love, me
xoxo

tonight is full of

sush with the bro.
good talks.
great laughs.
brotherly advice.
cousin home safe.
no call.
don't care.


life gets sweeter every minute.

today is full of

passive aggressive punk-rockers.
working. two jobs. back-to-back.
staff meetings and missed trains.
something that resembles snow on the ground.
blue boxes with gold foil.
and an upset stomach.




i'm finding my purpose in the mundane.
and trying my damndest to let go of my need for control.

i love

-moments of unexpected honesty with someone i love.
-driving at night.
-listening to my ipod on shuffle and realizing that if i weren't me, i'd still be friends with me based solely on my musical tendencies. i've got some good stuff on that thing!
-getting lost by myself.
-finding my way again. mostly by myself.
-friends who call and laugh at me in the middle of me being lost. because i can't stop cursing at misleading road signs.
-impromptu singing sessions to Jesus. on a country road. at the top of my lungs.
-getting a phone call that plasters a cheeky grin on my face in the middle of writing this.

this brought to you by the fact that i am actually dumb enough to get lost coming home from modesto. and that i am actually resourceful enough to enjoy finding my way home.

v8

i love the stuff. especially with tapatio and pepper.

he was having dinner with his mother.

in other news. i love my cousin for many reasons.
like saturday nights in:

infomercials

why does the temperpedic guy assume i have a partner to share my mattress with? and that i would disturb said partner with my tossing and turning if infact we did share said mattress? temperpedic guy-you make me feel lonely. especially when i shared magic kisses with a previously mentioned "he" last night and we were supposed to hang out again tonight. but i'm at home. blogging. i'm sure i'll find out tomorrow that there is some legit excuse as to why we're not together right now. but still...


barf.

sooner than soon.

he just called. again. to say goodnight. swoon.

goodnight room. goodnight moon. goodnight cow jumping over the moon. goodnight light, and the red balloon. goodnight stars. goodnight air. goodnight noises everywhere...

sushi and smiles

i got off work feeling sorry for myself. rather, i was feeling sorry about myself. sometimes i regret the way i respond to people who obviously care about me. i was worried that i'd been too nonsensical for him to call. so i took myself out. to the sushi place downtown. you ever have the feeling that you need to know you are worthwhile, even though you don't know that is what you are feeling until a stranger shows you that you are? that is exactly where i was when i walked through the doors. i sat down at the sushi bar and ordered myself a feast of edamame, salmon and tuna sushi, and a salmon-ginger roll. and then the affirmations just started rolling in. first the sushi chef offered me kaiso salad with a wink, "just because. eat! eat!" and then the waitress called me her "little lady" in broken english and offered me a free helping of miso soup. and then. as if the japanese lovin' wasn't enough. a father/son duo, tranplants from L.A. (and a handsome duo at that) offered me a shot of sake and a compliment, "you look like the perfect sushi partner. why are you here alone? come! take a drink with us, we have plenty!" "kampai!" we all shouted as the waitress took a shot with us too and all was well in my world. the chef talked to me quite a bit. he hopes to retire soon, as he has been in the restuarant business for many years, his last establishment being this one here in sonora. he asked me many questions and what is more, is that i could tell he was genuinely interested in my answers. we had trouble understanding eachother through our foreign pronunciations, but we talked as clearly and as simply as possible to one another and we looked at eacother with care. a sweet old man. he told me to come back often and that he would make me anything i wanted "to suit your tastes." the sake boys left and said they hoped to see me over sushi again soon. i slowly finished what i could and boxed up the rest. i left with red cheeks, feeling much better than i had only a couple of hours before.

and he called. i helped him make pasta over the phone. and we laughed. about the sugar he spilled all over the counter while trying to make iced tea. about his dog growling at him for attention in the background. and yes about how nonsensical i can be. but he said it was cute. and that he'd call again soon.

all sushi and smiles here in california.

long distance phone calls

i'm feeling less invincible than i was yesterday. but my outlook is still positive. one of the great joys of my life is nights like tonight when my brother and i huddle around a phone in columbia, california and the rest of our family huddles around a phone in dresden, ohio and we exchange songs. we don't talk too much, but instead connor and i pull out the guitar and the banjo on this end and tygar pulls out his guitar on the other and mom listens in as we exchange songs. songs we've learned. songs we've written. and we sing to eachother. until the three hour time difference forces ty to announce that he must wash his face and hit the sheets. it reminds me of nights when we shared the same space and played until our eyelids grew heavy. goodnight my dear family. however dysfuntional, i love you.

.my brothers.

i need chocolate.

i must be hormonal. but then again when am i not? i'll tell you what though. i'm nearly finished with one of the books i mentioned buying the other day. 'extremely loud and incredibly close' and it is the bee's knees! i wouldn't kid! i couldn't kid! i've gotten lost in it the way i got lost in 'the mercy of thin air.'(highly recommended. especially to a one samantha thorp. i think you'd love it.) i read it in a day over the hoilidays. i turned off my phone. never stepped out of my pj's. and carried the thing with me everywhere except the bathroom. ok it may have made it to the bathroom with me once or twice. i made coffee with my nose in it. i made three square meals and maybe even a snack with my nose in it. i brushed my teeth with my nose in it. i even talked to my mother from the bottom of the stairs with my nose in it. and by the end of the day i was finished. satisfied. heartbroken. smiling. and wanting more. just how a great book should leave you. i'm tempted to get off work, scrounge some chocolate, and finish the thing. but then again i don't want it to end. but then again i can't keep my hands off it! i even purposely left it at home so i wouldn't be able to sneak peeks. i'll try. i'll try really hard. but i have a feeling i'll be falling asleep with tears in my eyes. and hopefully some chocolate smeared on the last page.

visual aid for this blogpost:

chocolate dreams.
the bee's knees.
the torturously wonderful read.

socal

i love road trips with people who are important to the fabric of my being. i love talking to people who hold onto similar ideals as i do. i love talking to people who care about the meshing of culture and lessons learned outside of their own minimal experience. i love talking to people who encourage me and inspire me to be the person i know, deep down, i am supposed to be. the people who say "i may not know you well, (yet), but i am eager to, and will welcome you with open arms to any community you decide to be a part of." thank the GOOD Lord for people whose minds and hearts are open and willing and waiting for unity. thank the GOOD Lord for warm breezes in the middle of january. for palm trees. and super nintendo. and laughs. and champagne. and a good friend's engagement. i am so blessed to be here. in this moment. i will never forget this time. and i will never fail to tell my children and those long after them of my "roaring" twenties. or how i made it to that party. and how on this night, i was satisfied.

flapper? flap you!

one of my friends mentioned a 1920's theme party for a mutual friend's 26th. i couldn't help myself.

in other news. i now waste my time on webmd. it's genius. genius dahling! they can tell you anything! but if i start posting about my various diseases, pshychoses, and/or abnormalities somebody do me a favor and remove it from my bookmarks. thanks.

red lipped kisses!

ooo goody

i bought myself two books online. i feel kind of guilty. but there are worse things i could spend my money on, no? i've been wanting to read them both for some time. i need some inspiration. and when i typed them in, the recommended reads section (you know where amazon.com pretends they know your deepest literary needs and offers up a sampling of books "someone like you" would want to read) and it contained several of my well loved favourites (am i that transparent?) so i feel it was a justified purchase. i'm really excited for them to show up. nothing like a new book. nothing like it.


oh i almost forgot to tell you what they are:
extremely loud and incredibly close & everything is illuminated
both by jonathan safran foer

ooo goody is right.

braveheart

i don't trust God. there you have it. i said it. i want to. believe me, my life would be a whole lot easier if i did. i reached certain places in my relationship with Him somewhere along the way that i can't back down from, but as far as investing further, well i'm just not on a regular basis. instead i let days pass where i spend more time dreaming about the life i want to live and the kind of person i want to be than actually trying to live it. i'd rather do a crossword puzzle than ask the big questions about my insides. i don't understand the suffering in our world and even more frustrating i don't know what i can do about it. i mean i try to do the small things. like looking people in the eye and speaking truth when i feel it bubbling up. but really. what am i, a 23 year old woman, with big aspirations, no money, too many opinions, and abandonment issues, supposed to do? sudoku puzzles? ha! at night sometimes i let myself believe it is so. even now there is a voice inside that is telling me that if i was more methodical and "grown up" about things life would be better. you know, slept more, exercized more, read more, drank more water, made sure all my mascara came off at night et cetera, et cetera. but haven't we been trying to learn this lesson for way too long now? the one where it says "it's not about you." "oh and it's especially not about what you do and don't do." yeah. that's a tough one. i feel like i'm running on a treadmill! and what's worse i'm not losing weight! i just need to clean my house, have a good laugh, and ask Him to start this process for me. after all He is *gulp* in control. i think i need to go back to that thing with the 12 steps.

oh and finding out your ex-boyfriend and his wife are expecting makes you wonder if you're really behind the times...

nah!

un fair

i met the guy of my dreams last night.


in my dreams!


seriously. we were together. and happy. and he was funny. and sweet. and he knew just what to say to me when i was wigging out like i tend to do. and he had a really epic beard that i played with and it scratched my face when we kissed.


bummer. so here's to you my cute-bearded-dreamy-sucks you don't actually exsist-boyfriend!

managed feelings and broken polaroids

i'm back. in my house on wheels. i want to write. but i fear i haven't the words to describe the last couple weeks at the mo. i had the words. along the way. but when you don't use them as they come you often lose them. they may come round again. and they may not. i'm now twenty-three. and i feel good about this age. twenty-one felt premature. twenty-two felt like the teeange years of my early twenties. but twenty-three. twenty-three feels established. i feel like i can move on into full blown adulthood. or something of that nature. occasionally i look around at my life and for a moment see it as a sum of all my success, failures, debts, and dreams. it can get a little overwhelming in those moments. i wonder. what is one supposed to have accomplished at twenty-three? should i be closer to some sort of stable exsistance? should i be thinking more seriously about relationships? and who would take on a girl with student loan, medical, and other miscellaneous debt anyway? especially when the student loan debt hasn't a degree to justify it. do i have it together? what does it mean to have it together? do i want "it" together? usually i snap out of it and come to the conclusion that i (mostly) genuinely enjoy my vagabond exsistance. it feels good to not know what is next. and it feels good to not consider someone else's agenda, emotions, life plans and/or general well being while i'm going about not knowing. it feels good to know that whenever i want i can pack up my clothes, my books, my photographs, my house plant, and what little cash i have and hit the road. granted i'm somewhat bound to the great state of california and public transportation. but i could do it. if i wanted to. i could. and as far as the debt is concerned. i've decided not to lose my head over it. i pay what i can. and i pay it on time. slowly but surely i'll climb my way out and in the meantime i'll still live it up. on off brand beauty supplies and thrift store accoutrement mind you. but i'll live it up nonetheless. that is until a large sum of money falls from the sky into my bank account (oh wait i don't have one of those. i meant to say my pre-paid visa. they're much more transient. come on.) and pays off all my debt completely and leaves me fresh and bare and ready for anything. financially speaking that is. i am excited for this future of mine. however big or small. either way i think it will be grand. oh and i've decided that i really will write a book.

happy january, beauties.