1. Gossip Girl
2. The Millennium Series by Steig Larsson
3. The smell of the Narcissus
4. Target
5. Seeing my daughter's eyes light up when she gets to wear black, skulls, tattoos, etc. She's 6. I know. I already said that.
6. Knowing that my son is an imaginative creator. He creates elaborate train tracks, buildings, and gravity defying magnet sculptures. He's 4.
7. Having someone new to challenge the things I thought I knew about myself
8. Bacon
9. Quirky, hot, brainy men. Why are all three of those so hard to find in one person?
10. Being naive and believing in the inherent goodness of people - until they prove me wrong
Friday, September 25, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
You Win - TT Wild
You win. Do you feel like a man? Wildly waging your mouse wars, eradicating my existence? Does it make you feel big? Pushing my presence aside must make you feel so powerful. How easy it is to click, click, click me away. Come on, tell me how big you must feel behind your phony electronic shield.
Vivid conversations held in black and white, through static and tears, for seven long years. Wild streams of consciousness filling the air between us, shoulders wetted with wasted tears. Never once have you been less than human to me, but I must be lower than a rat to you, and I'm so naive, I never had a clue.
I've groveled for your friendship when I had no reason to bloody my knees. The power of wild tears and sticky blood, dirty hands and strangled hair is too much for your pretty raven head to deny. I hear the smirk in your voice when you've torn someone down. I hear the valor in your smoky tongue when you've bested me.
I know it feels good to cut me out like a flimsy paper doll, wildly wielding your dingy, dull scissors. I've curled on his lap for you. I've cried on his knee. I've been punched in the gut and the salt clinging to my contacts makes it so hard to see. But while the world around is blurry, your picture is now crystal fucking clear.
Vivid conversations held in black and white, through static and tears, for seven long years. Wild streams of consciousness filling the air between us, shoulders wetted with wasted tears. Never once have you been less than human to me, but I must be lower than a rat to you, and I'm so naive, I never had a clue.
I've groveled for your friendship when I had no reason to bloody my knees. The power of wild tears and sticky blood, dirty hands and strangled hair is too much for your pretty raven head to deny. I hear the smirk in your voice when you've torn someone down. I hear the valor in your smoky tongue when you've bested me.
I know it feels good to cut me out like a flimsy paper doll, wildly wielding your dingy, dull scissors. I've curled on his lap for you. I've cried on his knee. I've been punched in the gut and the salt clinging to my contacts makes it so hard to see. But while the world around is blurry, your picture is now crystal fucking clear.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Horizon - 10DoM Distance
The horizon is foggy. The wall needed to be climbed. "Oh, joy, I can see you. It's all I want." If you hadn't been on the other side, I think I would have been too scared to pull myself over. Your breath lullabies me to sleep, through static or air. When you're not here, I dream that you are. I can't stop wanting to touch you, to feel you on my skin, to run my fingertips across yours, to tangle my body in you. I'll rest my hand in yours until the horizon is clear.
The distance isn't far. This is the way I have to go. "I'm moving on. I hope you're coming with me." Let go when you're ready; I wouldn't keep you if I could. Don't let my tears hold you here, but look me in the eye when you leave. It's all I truly ask. Kiss my worries away in the wind, for now. Whisper my insecurities far into the night, for now. Trace your name on my body; claim me for yourself. Hold me a little too tightly tonight. I'm yours, for now.
The path is narrow. I'll have to walk myself alone. "So let me, let me go. Cause you don't, and you'll never know." I promise not to look back to see if you follow on your own. What I want for you is not what I want for me. The line you travel cannot match or parallel my own, for I have to settle my path alone. Step out into the world with no one to push or pull me along. Keep saying all the right words so I can keep going. My bravery belongs to you.
The horizon is foggy. The hard part has just begun. "Knowing what you said to me beneath your breath so blatantly." To be pulled over the wall only to be forced to let go. I've let you crawl through my thoughts, linger here for a while. Weave the stories well; don't leave room for inadequacy. Give me a little push, and I'll be on my way. Sorting out the lovers from the takers is tiring, and I can't figure it out yet. Hold my hand a little longer until I do.
*Lines in quotations are lyrics from Au Revoir Simone's album, "Still Night, Still Light."
The distance isn't far. This is the way I have to go. "I'm moving on. I hope you're coming with me." Let go when you're ready; I wouldn't keep you if I could. Don't let my tears hold you here, but look me in the eye when you leave. It's all I truly ask. Kiss my worries away in the wind, for now. Whisper my insecurities far into the night, for now. Trace your name on my body; claim me for yourself. Hold me a little too tightly tonight. I'm yours, for now.
The path is narrow. I'll have to walk myself alone. "So let me, let me go. Cause you don't, and you'll never know." I promise not to look back to see if you follow on your own. What I want for you is not what I want for me. The line you travel cannot match or parallel my own, for I have to settle my path alone. Step out into the world with no one to push or pull me along. Keep saying all the right words so I can keep going. My bravery belongs to you.
The horizon is foggy. The hard part has just begun. "Knowing what you said to me beneath your breath so blatantly." To be pulled over the wall only to be forced to let go. I've let you crawl through my thoughts, linger here for a while. Weave the stories well; don't leave room for inadequacy. Give me a little push, and I'll be on my way. Sorting out the lovers from the takers is tiring, and I can't figure it out yet. Hold my hand a little longer until I do.
*Lines in quotations are lyrics from Au Revoir Simone's album, "Still Night, Still Light."
Friday, September 18, 2009
Happy Hour Friday 9/18
1. Knowing and liking the person to whom I'm going to have to pay my traffic fine.
2. Falling to sleep listening to breath behind static.
3. Being surprised by people.
4. How my daughter creates angsty songs about love and death. She's 6.
5. How my son narrates his daily activities as he does them. He's 4.
6. Izze Clementine Soda.
7. Dominos online order tracker.
8. Acting juvenile.
9. Learning new ways to explain things.
10. Laughing.
2. Falling to sleep listening to breath behind static.
3. Being surprised by people.
4. How my daughter creates angsty songs about love and death. She's 6.
5. How my son narrates his daily activities as he does them. He's 4.
6. Izze Clementine Soda.
7. Dominos online order tracker.
8. Acting juvenile.
9. Learning new ways to explain things.
10. Laughing.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Life's Obstacles - TT Over the Hill
Every day is a new adventure, a new discovery, a new challenge. Life is a grand mountain path with obstacles all along the way. Sometimes, we encounter walls that need to be knocked down or climbed over. Occasionally, we come to a river. We have to build or maybe just repair a bridge, or we might just have to dive in and swim across. There are untraveled, undiscovered paths that need to be found and cleared, not only for ourselves but for others along the way as well.
Once in a while, though, we are lucky enough to come across simple little hills that can easily be traversed. They are in open fields of green grass underneath bright blue skies with fluffy clouds providing just enough shade from the happy yellow sun. How I wish for more hills in my life.
There is little to be learned from life's hills. We simply walk up their slope, sometimes slight, sometimes steep, reach the top, and breathe easy on the way down. Once in a while, the way down is a little steep, so we must take our steps carefully, but it's good to be reminded to slow down sometimes. Carelessness is the only way to muck up the journey over the hill.
How I wish for more hills in my life. How I would love to walk in the open air, know all of my surroundings, breathe easier as I climb and descend life's gentlest obstacles. I can barely imagine the bliss of not slamming into walls, falling into murky or violent rivers, or tripping along uncharted paths. But there is little to be learned from hills.
For it is climbing the wall that makes us appreciate what is on the other side. It is pushing through the wall that teaches us how strong we can be. It is building a bridge from nothing that shows us we are capable of far beyond our imagined abilities. It is diving into the river, feeling the searing pain of hitting the bottom hard because we didn't take the time to anticipate the shallowness of the water, that teaches us to look more closely, take a little time to plan before we jump. It is the clearing of an old, forgotten pathway, having its thorns and branches tear into our skin that reminds us of pain, reminds us to appreciate the absence of pain. And it is the discovery of a new pathway that opens our eyes to the world.
The only obstacles in life that are worth facing are the ones that make us think, work, sweat, cry, fight, scream, build, destroy, and break us down. Those are the obstacles that make us learn, make us stronger, and show us how great we can be and how the world is full of endless possibilities, infinite paths, unimaginable wonders. Those are obstacles that make life truly worth living. But oh, how I wish I could simply walk over more hills.
Once in a while, though, we are lucky enough to come across simple little hills that can easily be traversed. They are in open fields of green grass underneath bright blue skies with fluffy clouds providing just enough shade from the happy yellow sun. How I wish for more hills in my life.
There is little to be learned from life's hills. We simply walk up their slope, sometimes slight, sometimes steep, reach the top, and breathe easy on the way down. Once in a while, the way down is a little steep, so we must take our steps carefully, but it's good to be reminded to slow down sometimes. Carelessness is the only way to muck up the journey over the hill.
How I wish for more hills in my life. How I would love to walk in the open air, know all of my surroundings, breathe easier as I climb and descend life's gentlest obstacles. I can barely imagine the bliss of not slamming into walls, falling into murky or violent rivers, or tripping along uncharted paths. But there is little to be learned from hills.
For it is climbing the wall that makes us appreciate what is on the other side. It is pushing through the wall that teaches us how strong we can be. It is building a bridge from nothing that shows us we are capable of far beyond our imagined abilities. It is diving into the river, feeling the searing pain of hitting the bottom hard because we didn't take the time to anticipate the shallowness of the water, that teaches us to look more closely, take a little time to plan before we jump. It is the clearing of an old, forgotten pathway, having its thorns and branches tear into our skin that reminds us of pain, reminds us to appreciate the absence of pain. And it is the discovery of a new pathway that opens our eyes to the world.
The only obstacles in life that are worth facing are the ones that make us think, work, sweat, cry, fight, scream, build, destroy, and break us down. Those are the obstacles that make us learn, make us stronger, and show us how great we can be and how the world is full of endless possibilities, infinite paths, unimaginable wonders. Those are obstacles that make life truly worth living. But oh, how I wish I could simply walk over more hills.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Happy Hour... Saturday?
Just found this... Figured some happy was needed in my blog...
Things that make me happy:
1. Going to the movies alone.
2. I don't even have to say my order aloud at Starbucks anymore.
3. Watching cable series shows on DVD because I don't have cable.
4. Creme' Brulee.
5. Newborn baby smell.
6. Being amazed by my daughter.
7. Kisses from my son.
8. Helping people conquer their fears on the mat and having it translate off the mat.
9. Cooking for people.
10. Moving home in less than a year.
Oops! Forgot the link... Sorry, otin!
http://wizardofotin.blogspot.com/2009/09/happy-hour-friday-2.html
Things that make me happy:
1. Going to the movies alone.
2. I don't even have to say my order aloud at Starbucks anymore.
3. Watching cable series shows on DVD because I don't have cable.
4. Creme' Brulee.
5. Newborn baby smell.
6. Being amazed by my daughter.
7. Kisses from my son.
8. Helping people conquer their fears on the mat and having it translate off the mat.
9. Cooking for people.
10. Moving home in less than a year.
Oops! Forgot the link... Sorry, otin!
http://wizardofotin.blogspot.com/2009/09/happy-hour-friday-2.html
Sadness, Life, and Self
My sadness flows here so that it doesn't follow me as I travel my daily path. I somewhat feel the need to give a better glimpse of my circumstances, but I'm sure they will become available the more I write. Most often, this blog is inspired by particular events that are happening right now in my life. It is an unusual situation I have created for myself, for my survival, and for my family. I am breaking the cycle.
My written self and my "out in the world" self are two completely different creatures. To know one makes the other unrecognizable. Writing the pain and sadness is the release, the therapy. It doesn't mean it goes away; it simply allows it to exist somewhere, to be acknowledged and faced and let go.
Living in the now is one of my greatest challenges. I am constantly in the comfort of the past or the fear of the future. Believing I have worth is yet another challenge. Separating myself from my self, I see great worth, but existing within, I feel less worthy somehow. I am a conundrum even to myself. It must be frustrating to truly know me sometimes, and there's only one person right now who does. I kind of like it that way.
My written self and my "out in the world" self are two completely different creatures. To know one makes the other unrecognizable. Writing the pain and sadness is the release, the therapy. It doesn't mean it goes away; it simply allows it to exist somewhere, to be acknowledged and faced and let go.
Living in the now is one of my greatest challenges. I am constantly in the comfort of the past or the fear of the future. Believing I have worth is yet another challenge. Separating myself from my self, I see great worth, but existing within, I feel less worthy somehow. I am a conundrum even to myself. It must be frustrating to truly know me sometimes, and there's only one person right now who does. I kind of like it that way.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Forgotten Love
I'm in this constant state of anticipation of the end. It's something I wish I could leave behind but something that follows me through everything in my life. Every beginning is simply the beginning of the end because everything ends. It does no good to live in its shadow, but that's where I keep finding myself.
I find myself beginning to end even newly discovered things. Walls being built and lines being drawn. Unbreakable walls and uncrossable lines. I find myself exhausted and exhausting; being in my presence must be difficult these days.
For some, I'm occasionally too giddy to stomach. Had I been happy or giddy when we met, my best friend wouldn't be my friend. For some, I'm too negative. It's easier to criticize than to praise when I'm often criticized and rarely praised. I'm always surprised when people don't criticize me and even moreso when they actually say something nice. For others, my mere existence is the problem.
I am the face of failure. The loss of hope. A constant reminder that love means nothing when it's only a noun. Love is action fueled by the soul of the heart, but love as action exists only in movies these days it seems. And those movies are reminders, over and over again, that when my blue eyes meet his green gaze, I am the face of his failure, the loss of his hope, and his forgotten love.
I find myself beginning to end even newly discovered things. Walls being built and lines being drawn. Unbreakable walls and uncrossable lines. I find myself exhausted and exhausting; being in my presence must be difficult these days.
For some, I'm occasionally too giddy to stomach. Had I been happy or giddy when we met, my best friend wouldn't be my friend. For some, I'm too negative. It's easier to criticize than to praise when I'm often criticized and rarely praised. I'm always surprised when people don't criticize me and even moreso when they actually say something nice. For others, my mere existence is the problem.
I am the face of failure. The loss of hope. A constant reminder that love means nothing when it's only a noun. Love is action fueled by the soul of the heart, but love as action exists only in movies these days it seems. And those movies are reminders, over and over again, that when my blue eyes meet his green gaze, I am the face of his failure, the loss of his hope, and his forgotten love.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Chakra 3 - TT Rhythm
Breath syncs. The sound of the ocean moves the bodies in choreographed sequences that beg for mercy. It's the good kind of pain. The pain that reminds the body it exists. The kind that challenges the mind to keep going, push through... Caturanga. Five times... No, ten. That's not enough. The sun in brightening, and the Namaskara opens the day with fingers reaching skyward.
Breath moves body. Body follows breath. There's a pulse in this moving meditation. There are no eyes. There is no corporeal body. It is all erased. Breathe. Move. It's second nature, automatic. All is released. Let go and remember the breath. Step forward, warrior. Hold the space. Believe in the possibility of positive change. Hold the space for change. Hold the space for hope.
Breath opens possibilities. Each inhale is preparation, each exhale is awakening Manipura. She is fire! She is the spark. Energy concentrates in her heart, the beginning of life, moves outward to show her full strength. She is the mother's strength, the life of intuition, the soul's guide. Consciousness is not wasted in her. She is the secret rhythm of life.
Breath moves body. Body follows breath. There's a pulse in this moving meditation. There are no eyes. There is no corporeal body. It is all erased. Breathe. Move. It's second nature, automatic. All is released. Let go and remember the breath. Step forward, warrior. Hold the space. Believe in the possibility of positive change. Hold the space for change. Hold the space for hope.
Breath opens possibilities. Each inhale is preparation, each exhale is awakening Manipura. She is fire! She is the spark. Energy concentrates in her heart, the beginning of life, moves outward to show her full strength. She is the mother's strength, the life of intuition, the soul's guide. Consciousness is not wasted in her. She is the secret rhythm of life.
Friday, September 4, 2009
The Game
It's not fun anymore. This game you've created has evolved; the rules have changed. You're not keeping up. You can't even hold up your end of the bargain. How can you expect me to hold up mine? Believing the lies you tell yourself is the coping mechanism of the weak-minded. Believing the lies you tell me is the coping mechanism of the broken hearted.
When given the opportunity to shine, you choose to shade. When given the opportunity to love, to be loved, you run away. You walk across my earth because I am strong enough to hold your weight, but you take no care, watering flowers in other fields. The footprints left behind you are forgotten as soon as they are laid. How I shift, mold to your gait, caress your soles, completely unnoticed beneath you.
I'll never be the fire burning your life down, the air you flow boundlessly through. I'm the ground you travel and only notice when I'm gone. You found me, joined my path, said all the right words, carved your place in my heart. Poured yourself in when I was too shattered to filter, took the little I had left. The chase was effortless because I was weak. The game is over because I let you in.
When given the opportunity to shine, you choose to shade. When given the opportunity to love, to be loved, you run away. You walk across my earth because I am strong enough to hold your weight, but you take no care, watering flowers in other fields. The footprints left behind you are forgotten as soon as they are laid. How I shift, mold to your gait, caress your soles, completely unnoticed beneath you.
I'll never be the fire burning your life down, the air you flow boundlessly through. I'm the ground you travel and only notice when I'm gone. You found me, joined my path, said all the right words, carved your place in my heart. Poured yourself in when I was too shattered to filter, took the little I had left. The chase was effortless because I was weak. The game is over because I let you in.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The End - TT Beginning/10DoM And So It Begins...
It begins with me being me. My brain has fully malfunctioned and I am truly beyond repair. My heart is torn between the sheets and my dreams are becoming nightmares. There is prose in the poetry of my mind, but it isn't setting itself upright. It is falling by the wayside, and it is wishing it were nothing more than a simple smile that says "hello" on a rainy, dreary day like today.
The sun is shining brightly, burning my eyes. Tears fought back with deepening breath keep stinging anyway. The reality of being put in my place, reminded of what I am and not what I pretend. Now, all I want is to set me free, to fade away, to no longer be. If I let go now, no one will catch me. If I let go now, there will be no one there.
There are mysteries that unravel themselves, tied to my bedposts, wishing they were not the knots of time and time's circumstance. Waiting patiently for the end, I caress the sides of his face, look into his faraway eyes, and see that he doesn't wish to see me but how I stay in his sight anyhow. He's enjoying his reflection in my eyes while looking straight past. I'd follow his gaze, but I know where it leads. I don't like to be reminded anymore, but he reminds me every day.
It's unhealthy, unwise; I simply choose to think it's unfortunate. Time is a cruel and unusual creature. She is fought with breath, heartbeats, and tongue lashings. We like to think she is changeable, tamable, that we are the ones with power. The beauty is in how she simply continues without care, and how we cannot help ourselves in desperation of her mercy. She smiles quietly, unaffected by our meaningless pleas.
She's in the words she thought I didn't want to hear, the touch he thought I didn't want to feel, the smile I thought they didn't want to see... She's in the tears we wipe away, the anger we try to hide, and the sadness we hold inside. She's the ripple in the water, the mound of earth beneath our feet, the inaudible heartbeat, the last sigh of breath. And so it begins, the beginning of the end.
The sun is shining brightly, burning my eyes. Tears fought back with deepening breath keep stinging anyway. The reality of being put in my place, reminded of what I am and not what I pretend. Now, all I want is to set me free, to fade away, to no longer be. If I let go now, no one will catch me. If I let go now, there will be no one there.
There are mysteries that unravel themselves, tied to my bedposts, wishing they were not the knots of time and time's circumstance. Waiting patiently for the end, I caress the sides of his face, look into his faraway eyes, and see that he doesn't wish to see me but how I stay in his sight anyhow. He's enjoying his reflection in my eyes while looking straight past. I'd follow his gaze, but I know where it leads. I don't like to be reminded anymore, but he reminds me every day.
It's unhealthy, unwise; I simply choose to think it's unfortunate. Time is a cruel and unusual creature. She is fought with breath, heartbeats, and tongue lashings. We like to think she is changeable, tamable, that we are the ones with power. The beauty is in how she simply continues without care, and how we cannot help ourselves in desperation of her mercy. She smiles quietly, unaffected by our meaningless pleas.
She's in the words she thought I didn't want to hear, the touch he thought I didn't want to feel, the smile I thought they didn't want to see... She's in the tears we wipe away, the anger we try to hide, and the sadness we hold inside. She's the ripple in the water, the mound of earth beneath our feet, the inaudible heartbeat, the last sigh of breath. And so it begins, the beginning of the end.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Read Me! Ignore Me!
OK - so I accidentally posted my 10th Daughter of Memory AND TT blog, unedited and hurriedly because I'm in "brain malfunction" mode. I also was horrid and did not comment on anyone else's TT on the Limo theme and feel terrible about it. Some of you may get double comments this upcoming Thursday because I'm about to be inundated with free time!
Anyhow, ignore my previous post. It shall be edited and expounded upon (I hope) and posted, in its full glory on Thursday.
Meanwhile, if you're a follower or a TT participant, check out another muse blog, The Tenth Daughter of Memory, henceforth referred to as 10DoM.
http://thetenthdaughterofmemory.blogspot.com/
Happy musings.
Anyhow, ignore my previous post. It shall be edited and expounded upon (I hope) and posted, in its full glory on Thursday.
Meanwhile, if you're a follower or a TT participant, check out another muse blog, The Tenth Daughter of Memory, henceforth referred to as 10DoM.
http://thetenthdaughterofmemory.blogspot.com/
Happy musings.
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