Have I ever mentioned just how corny I can get after having a good weekend? If not, all it takes is reading what I wrote last night to confirm my worst fears ... My prose license needs to be revoked.
I mean hello ... What was with the crustacean kick? Festival of trees? And all this mountain music I was mumbling about?
Me thinks I actually forgot what it was that I was really about, since the whole trip north to the boonies this weekend, was to patron a good old boy bar, just to see my friend's band in action.
Perhaps, had I wanted to be a bit more factual, I would have mentioned the horrid red, white and blue wallpaper that desperately clung to the wall, in fear of the big bug eyed buffalo head that hung on the opposite wall. Or maybe I should have mentioned the worn out wood floor, with knicks, chips and knotholes worn away over time, by the constant tread of country dances. And worse yet, maybe I should have mentioned the locals ...
Anyhoo, good morning, Monday morning. Despite the fact that I would be more than willing to head back upstairs and back to bed, I feel quite refreshed and ready for another day.
I did a whole bunch this weekend, that I'll have to fill you all in on later, but for the record, since I did hear tale of a bad review, let me say that I highly recommend Disney's Brother Bear.
The message may be a bit deeper than your average kid can catch hold of, but all in all, the flick was quite good. So good, I cried three different times, once within the first 10 minutes of it starting.
I think it's Disney's penchant for killing people off that does it, and I've got a complete list of Disney casualties to prove it. (Remind me to post it here on a later date.)
But I hold to the belief that just maybe some day, Disney will do me a favor and not make a movie that makes me cry. There's something about sitting there in the dark, tears streaming down your face in the middle of an emotional moment, with a thousand little children surrounding you watching a cartoon, that makes you feel like a complete wussball.
However, I'll have to say more later on that topic, since now it is time to get to work. Happy Day all ...
I now declare this unofficial BLOG BREAK weekend officially over.
After Thursday's nothing much to talk about post, I quickly came to the realization that I needed a break. I was drained, storied out, blogged out, and bummed out, wondering why I was trying to write, when I didn't have anything of any interest to say.
I felt like a stagnant pond, knee deep with water but void of life.
Living around the clock by the numbers, stuck in the same old routine of getting up, going to work, coming home, making dinner and going to bed. I might as well have been a hermit crab, carrying my house around on my back, inhabiting my shell like creatures with soft bodies are bound to do, unwilling to lose my armor.
But outside, I could hear the mountain music calling from its highest peaks, all the way down to the bottom of the valley. "Live." it said. "Celebrate life, the festival of trees shining in bright colors around you, the frozen spikes of frost that hold green blades of grass. Breathe, and don't be afraid of taking in too much air. There's plenty here for all to share."
Without any excuses of why not to go, I grabbed my keys, shut the lights off, locked the door and stepped out into the night, back into life and the world that was happy to have me back.
After Thursday's nothing much to talk about post, I quickly came to the realization that I needed a break. I was drained, storied out, blogged out, and bummed out, wondering why I was trying to write, when I didn't have anything of any interest to say.
I felt like a stagnant pond, knee deep with water but void of life.
Living around the clock by the numbers, stuck in the same old routine of getting up, going to work, coming home, making dinner and going to bed. I might as well have been a hermit crab, carrying my house around on my back, inhabiting my shell like creatures with soft bodies are bound to do, unwilling to lose my armor.
But outside, I could hear the mountain music calling from its highest peaks, all the way down to the bottom of the valley. "Live." it said. "Celebrate life, the festival of trees shining in bright colors around you, the frozen spikes of frost that hold green blades of grass. Breathe, and don't be afraid of taking in too much air. There's plenty here for all to share."
Without any excuses of why not to go, I grabbed my keys, shut the lights off, locked the door and stepped out into the night, back into life and the world that was happy to have me back.
I don't know why I'm awake and thinking, when I really should be heading upstairs for bed.
Instead, I'm sitting here staring at this screen, listening to a symphony playing into my ears, feeling in one way relaxed, and in another, totally tense.
I feel like a comet streaking across the heavens, illuminating the dark night sky, blazing into some unknown future. I feel like a thousand twinkling stars, held up by invisible threads, looking down at a world to whisper goodnight.
Such poetic thoughts. A sure sign I'm meant for bed.
Adieu, adieu, until the morning when we will meet again.
Instead, I'm sitting here staring at this screen, listening to a symphony playing into my ears, feeling in one way relaxed, and in another, totally tense.
I feel like a comet streaking across the heavens, illuminating the dark night sky, blazing into some unknown future. I feel like a thousand twinkling stars, held up by invisible threads, looking down at a world to whisper goodnight.
Such poetic thoughts. A sure sign I'm meant for bed.
Adieu, adieu, until the morning when we will meet again.
Talk about disappointing, according to an article taken right from the internet headlines this morning, thanks to my vertically challenged status, I'm working for peanuts.
[SNIP]
MIAMI (Reuters) - Tall people earn considerably more money throughout their lives than their shorter co-workers, with each inch adding about $789 a year in pay, according to a new study.
"Height matters for career success," said Timothy Judge, a University of Florida management professor whose research will appear in the spring issue of the Journal of Applied Psychology.
"These findings are troubling in that, with a few exceptions such as professional basketball, no one could argue that height is an essential ability required for job performance nor a bona fide occupational qualification.
[END SNIP]
It seems the speeches given by the tall and powerful people of the world, weren't just full of hot air after all. After reading this article, it's become apparently clear to see why they always stop to say "Thank you to all the little people who made this possible".
They've been stealing our money for years!
[SNIP]
MIAMI (Reuters) - Tall people earn considerably more money throughout their lives than their shorter co-workers, with each inch adding about $789 a year in pay, according to a new study.
"Height matters for career success," said Timothy Judge, a University of Florida management professor whose research will appear in the spring issue of the Journal of Applied Psychology.
"These findings are troubling in that, with a few exceptions such as professional basketball, no one could argue that height is an essential ability required for job performance nor a bona fide occupational qualification.
[END SNIP]
It seems the speeches given by the tall and powerful people of the world, weren't just full of hot air after all. After reading this article, it's become apparently clear to see why they always stop to say "Thank you to all the little people who made this possible".
They've been stealing our money for years!
i am running into a new year
and the old years blow back
like a wind
that i catch in my hair
like strong fingers like
all my old promises and
it will be hard to let go
of what i said to myself
about myself
when i was sixteen and
twentysix and thirtysix
even thirtysix but
i am running into a new year
and i beg what i love and
i leave to forgive me
~ Lucille Clifton
Somewhere on St. Vincent Street, there is a house that holds a memory of me.
I dream at night, she walks its halls, trailing her hand along the smooth wooden banister, pushing open the doors that lead into dusty rooms to stand in front of windows and stare outside, hands pressed against the glass as if she were waiting for me, waiting for a rescue that will never come.
Sometimes I dream I am standing outside her window, simply watching silently, as tears slip down her face like silken petals from a rose, after its bloom has begun to fade.
I raise my hand to touch the glass, feeling only the cold beneath my palm. She curves her mouth into a small wistful smile, and steps away.
"You can't change the past." her voice whispers from inside the house. And I know that she knows, that she can never leave. I know, that this house has become her home, the place where body and soul disconnected, leaving one part of the whole behind like a ghostly haunting.
And always in my dream, I just walk away, weaving a silent trail under the tender glow of streetlights towards home, wishing there was something more that I could do, while the word nothing echoes inside my mind.
Every year, I make a promise to bring her flowers. To lay them on the lawn in light of day, yellow roses to bring her the sunshine she cannot feel inside. But only once have I ever gone back again, slowing my car to stand before the house, holding my breath to see who or what might come from inside. Leaving before I can answer my own question. This is what I fear.
And I'm sorry, for the picture of a girl I've never forgotten, who didn't have a chance to become the woman she might have been. The girl who believed she was invincible. The girl who for just one moment in time, was caught in the camera's lens, smiling and posing for a picture. A picture she didn't know would be the last time she'd ever recognize her face.
And so I mark this 8th anniversary, not by flowers but with words, to set this spirit free to soar the night.
Reckless
with Pride,
I walked with confidence
city streets after dark.
Cutting short paths
behind empty buildings,
where even shadows never dared to linger long.
Houses lined up in neat little rows
on a silent street,
where shades were drawn down tight
and doors locked twice against intruders.
Feeling I had reached a place of safety,
no hesitation as I found myself knocking on the door
never noting the darkness of the house.
Admitted and drawn in,
urged to sit and be comfortable.
Placed like a trophy on a shelf,
catered to like a queen
as he urged me to drink
refilling my glass before even I knew it was empty.
Watching me from across the room, he sat silent
studying my movements,
perceiving me as a predator would his prey,
Waiting.
Smoke swirled thick around me,
Distorting the things I thought I knew.
I failed to recognize the deliberateness of his movements,
the web of control he spun about the room.
Ignoring the chills of warning shivering down my spine.
Shifting between sleep and awake,
as he manipulated me into his room,
pressing his body tight against mine
Holding me up against a wall, before
the back of his bed hit me cold.
Taken.
Lying there, silent and still, with no pride left to speak of.
~ Stacey
and the old years blow back
like a wind
that i catch in my hair
like strong fingers like
all my old promises and
it will be hard to let go
of what i said to myself
about myself
when i was sixteen and
twentysix and thirtysix
even thirtysix but
i am running into a new year
and i beg what i love and
i leave to forgive me
~ Lucille Clifton
Somewhere on St. Vincent Street, there is a house that holds a memory of me.
I dream at night, she walks its halls, trailing her hand along the smooth wooden banister, pushing open the doors that lead into dusty rooms to stand in front of windows and stare outside, hands pressed against the glass as if she were waiting for me, waiting for a rescue that will never come.
Sometimes I dream I am standing outside her window, simply watching silently, as tears slip down her face like silken petals from a rose, after its bloom has begun to fade.
I raise my hand to touch the glass, feeling only the cold beneath my palm. She curves her mouth into a small wistful smile, and steps away.
"You can't change the past." her voice whispers from inside the house. And I know that she knows, that she can never leave. I know, that this house has become her home, the place where body and soul disconnected, leaving one part of the whole behind like a ghostly haunting.
And always in my dream, I just walk away, weaving a silent trail under the tender glow of streetlights towards home, wishing there was something more that I could do, while the word nothing echoes inside my mind.
Every year, I make a promise to bring her flowers. To lay them on the lawn in light of day, yellow roses to bring her the sunshine she cannot feel inside. But only once have I ever gone back again, slowing my car to stand before the house, holding my breath to see who or what might come from inside. Leaving before I can answer my own question. This is what I fear.
And I'm sorry, for the picture of a girl I've never forgotten, who didn't have a chance to become the woman she might have been. The girl who believed she was invincible. The girl who for just one moment in time, was caught in the camera's lens, smiling and posing for a picture. A picture she didn't know would be the last time she'd ever recognize her face.
And so I mark this 8th anniversary, not by flowers but with words, to set this spirit free to soar the night.
Reckless
with Pride,
I walked with confidence
city streets after dark.
Cutting short paths
behind empty buildings,
where even shadows never dared to linger long.
Houses lined up in neat little rows
on a silent street,
where shades were drawn down tight
and doors locked twice against intruders.
Feeling I had reached a place of safety,
no hesitation as I found myself knocking on the door
never noting the darkness of the house.
Admitted and drawn in,
urged to sit and be comfortable.
Placed like a trophy on a shelf,
catered to like a queen
as he urged me to drink
refilling my glass before even I knew it was empty.
Watching me from across the room, he sat silent
studying my movements,
perceiving me as a predator would his prey,
Waiting.
Smoke swirled thick around me,
Distorting the things I thought I knew.
I failed to recognize the deliberateness of his movements,
the web of control he spun about the room.
Ignoring the chills of warning shivering down my spine.
Shifting between sleep and awake,
as he manipulated me into his room,
pressing his body tight against mine
Holding me up against a wall, before
the back of his bed hit me cold.
Taken.
Lying there, silent and still, with no pride left to speak of.
~ Stacey
Rain, rain go away ...
It's cold, it's wet and outside it's miserable. Throughout the night, listening to the rain tap against the window, I drifted in and out of consciousness, my mind immersed in strange dreams featuring kittens, hospitals, and people I didn't even know.
I feel like I didn't sleep at all.
When my alarm went off at 5 this morning, I was already awake. Eyes open, I watched the numbers change one by one on the clock, but was adamant in my refusal to leave the warm, encloaking comfort of my cacoon. I closed my eyes, and waited, but sleep did not return.
So I'm awake, running late as usual, with only a small amount of time to get myself, and then KC up and ready to go. Which means this post must come to a close.
Happy Two for Tuesday. Have yourself a wonderful day.
It's cold, it's wet and outside it's miserable. Throughout the night, listening to the rain tap against the window, I drifted in and out of consciousness, my mind immersed in strange dreams featuring kittens, hospitals, and people I didn't even know.
I feel like I didn't sleep at all.
When my alarm went off at 5 this morning, I was already awake. Eyes open, I watched the numbers change one by one on the clock, but was adamant in my refusal to leave the warm, encloaking comfort of my cacoon. I closed my eyes, and waited, but sleep did not return.
So I'm awake, running late as usual, with only a small amount of time to get myself, and then KC up and ready to go. Which means this post must come to a close.
Happy Two for Tuesday. Have yourself a wonderful day.
I feel like I've just been slimed.
KC and I, have spent the last hour carving the giant orange pumpkins, that are now sitting outside our door, casting eerie shadows into the night.
Despite a close call with the pumpkin safe knife when KC got a little overzealous with her cutting, I am happy to report that I have survived yet another year of mad cap carving.
This year, we didn't even bother with the intricate stencil designs, opting instead to free hand faces onto the pumpkins by using a magic marker.
Together we made big triangle eyes, ghoulish skeleton noses, and wide scary smiles, filled with long razor sharp teeth.
KC could hardly keep still in her excitement, eager to see the finished faces of our goblin gourd friends.
"Light the candle Mom!" she urged, hopping back and forth of one leg. "It's cold out here."
"I'm going ... I'm ... Dammit!" I dropped the candle.
"Mom ... You dropped it!" KC sighed in exasperation, looking at me with impatience and disgust.
"Thanks for the update, K." I said in a droll voice, as I raised my hand to examine it for scorch marks. "OK Stace. What do you say we try that again, this time without all the painful flame action."
I lit the candle, taking care to ease it down slowly into the center of the pumpkin, until it landed on the soft fleshly bottom with just the slightest kerplunk.
"OK. It's all you KC, put the lid on, and we're good to go."
We stepped back to admire our work.
"Oooooh Mom. They look scary don't they?" KC said with awe.
"Not to bad, my dear. Not to bad." I said, patting her shoulder, and pushing her towards the door. "Now it's inside with you, to clean up and get ready for bed."
"Ahhh Mom ... Do I have to? It's still early." she whined.
I smiled.
"Yes, you do."
KC and I, have spent the last hour carving the giant orange pumpkins, that are now sitting outside our door, casting eerie shadows into the night.
Despite a close call with the pumpkin safe knife when KC got a little overzealous with her cutting, I am happy to report that I have survived yet another year of mad cap carving.
This year, we didn't even bother with the intricate stencil designs, opting instead to free hand faces onto the pumpkins by using a magic marker.
Together we made big triangle eyes, ghoulish skeleton noses, and wide scary smiles, filled with long razor sharp teeth.
KC could hardly keep still in her excitement, eager to see the finished faces of our goblin gourd friends.
"Light the candle Mom!" she urged, hopping back and forth of one leg. "It's cold out here."
"I'm going ... I'm ... Dammit!" I dropped the candle.
"Mom ... You dropped it!" KC sighed in exasperation, looking at me with impatience and disgust.
"Thanks for the update, K." I said in a droll voice, as I raised my hand to examine it for scorch marks. "OK Stace. What do you say we try that again, this time without all the painful flame action."
I lit the candle, taking care to ease it down slowly into the center of the pumpkin, until it landed on the soft fleshly bottom with just the slightest kerplunk.
"OK. It's all you KC, put the lid on, and we're good to go."
We stepped back to admire our work.
"Oooooh Mom. They look scary don't they?" KC said with awe.
"Not to bad, my dear. Not to bad." I said, patting her shoulder, and pushing her towards the door. "Now it's inside with you, to clean up and get ready for bed."
"Ahhh Mom ... Do I have to? It's still early." she whined.
I smiled.
"Yes, you do."
Some people, like my sister Amy, tend to take things the wrong way when something is said, automatically assuming that the message they are receiving, is to back off and keep away from subjects that may be sensitive. When the only thing I really meant to say was, that if you leave a comment, don't hide what is was you wanted to say behind a clever pseudonym. If you're honest enough to say what you feel, you have to be honest enough to be yourself, even if it means finding out you're sister doesn't always appreciate your comments.
I'm in a mood tonight, and so far I think it's a good one.
As I write this, I'm listening to Tori Amos, Scarlets Walk, currently playing track 6, Crazy.
So I let crazy take a spin
and then I let crazy settle in
Kicked off my shoes
shut reason out
he said first let's just unzip your religion down
Heard that you were once temptations girl.
Last night was a fun time. Mike, Doug and I, went down for happy hour after work, and ended up staying for most of the evening.
It's amazing the way we always seem to attract all the yahoos over to our little corner. After playing a round of tunes on the jukebox, none much to the liking of the other patrons, since I had a hankering to hear 50 Cent, a good old boy came sauntering up to our table, complaining over the lack of country music.
Mike seemed to find him incredibly entertaining, mocking him ever so slightly, so as not to be noticeable, that I had to keep kicking him under the table, in the attempt to shut him up.
"What?" he said, turning towards me, an evil grin on his face.
"Knock it off," I hissed between clenched teeth. "before your buddy thinks he's made a new friend and comes to join us for the rest of the evening."
"Oh, he's harmless." Mike laughed. "Relax. Besides don't you see those girls over there? I feel bad for the poor bastard. Their only flirting with him to get free drinks, but by the end of the night, he'll be broke and still going home alone."
"Better him than us." I laughed. "Now go get me a drink."
I'm in a mood tonight, and so far I think it's a good one.
As I write this, I'm listening to Tori Amos, Scarlets Walk, currently playing track 6, Crazy.
So I let crazy take a spin
and then I let crazy settle in
Kicked off my shoes
shut reason out
he said first let's just unzip your religion down
Heard that you were once temptations girl.
Last night was a fun time. Mike, Doug and I, went down for happy hour after work, and ended up staying for most of the evening.
It's amazing the way we always seem to attract all the yahoos over to our little corner. After playing a round of tunes on the jukebox, none much to the liking of the other patrons, since I had a hankering to hear 50 Cent, a good old boy came sauntering up to our table, complaining over the lack of country music.
Mike seemed to find him incredibly entertaining, mocking him ever so slightly, so as not to be noticeable, that I had to keep kicking him under the table, in the attempt to shut him up.
"What?" he said, turning towards me, an evil grin on his face.
"Knock it off," I hissed between clenched teeth. "before your buddy thinks he's made a new friend and comes to join us for the rest of the evening."
"Oh, he's harmless." Mike laughed. "Relax. Besides don't you see those girls over there? I feel bad for the poor bastard. Their only flirting with him to get free drinks, but by the end of the night, he'll be broke and still going home alone."
"Better him than us." I laughed. "Now go get me a drink."
Darth Vadar didn't turn out to be Brenda, as "HP" was neither Hewlett Packard and/or Harry Potter. The culprit behind both really obnoxious pranks was none other than my sister Amy, who giggled hysterically on the phone when I called her bluff last night.
Anticipating another let me just burst your bubble reply from "HP", I spent yesterday morning thinking in-between calls of more names starting with those two letters, when suddenly it came to me.
HP ... High Priestess! Which was followed by a four letter word rhyming with duck ...
Shaking my head, I couldn't believe that the obvious wasn't at first obvious at all, although the negative undertones should have given my sister away.
Yes, Amy. I said negative.
Whether or not you want to admit it, you enjoy being the little black rain cloud hanging out over my parade, and while sometimes I find it mildly amusing, there are more times when I find it not.
But mocking me on my own blog is just plain rude and not very funny at all. This I think you know.
So give me a break, Miss Center Stage, and make your comments under your own recognizable name, where you can be held accountable for them. You may be my sister, and I may love you, but even love has its limits.
And just a word to the wise ... If I see any comments left by someone with the initials MCS on this blog, I'm going to toilet paper your house, front and back, both sides, up and down, on Halloween until your house looks like a giant wet cotton ball.
And I'm not just saying that.
Anticipating another let me just burst your bubble reply from "HP", I spent yesterday morning thinking in-between calls of more names starting with those two letters, when suddenly it came to me.
HP ... High Priestess! Which was followed by a four letter word rhyming with duck ...
Shaking my head, I couldn't believe that the obvious wasn't at first obvious at all, although the negative undertones should have given my sister away.
Yes, Amy. I said negative.
Whether or not you want to admit it, you enjoy being the little black rain cloud hanging out over my parade, and while sometimes I find it mildly amusing, there are more times when I find it not.
But mocking me on my own blog is just plain rude and not very funny at all. This I think you know.
So give me a break, Miss Center Stage, and make your comments under your own recognizable name, where you can be held accountable for them. You may be my sister, and I may love you, but even love has its limits.
And just a word to the wise ... If I see any comments left by someone with the initials MCS on this blog, I'm going to toilet paper your house, front and back, both sides, up and down, on Halloween until your house looks like a giant wet cotton ball.
And I'm not just saying that.
If I'm not sick, I soon will be.
I feel like hell this morning, and if it were possible I'd call into work and tell them I wouldn't be coming in, just so I could spend the day trying to sleep whatever this is off.
It's snowing outside, and according to the weatherguy, it's going to be snowing straight into tomorrow. This could be a good thing. Maybe if we get it out of the way now, by Halloween we'll get a one day reprieve, so the kids can trick or treat without having to wear their snowsuits.
My best friend left me a very off message on my machine last night. It started something like this, "Luke I am your father ..." But she sounded more blitzed than Darth Vadar-ish when she said that. Maybe I'll try her cell phone on my way to work this morning and see what's up.
But for now, I think I'll go try to rustle up some echanacea, as I am going out on the town tomorrow night, and there's no way I'm going to let a little cold interfere with my plans.
Happy Thursday!
I feel like hell this morning, and if it were possible I'd call into work and tell them I wouldn't be coming in, just so I could spend the day trying to sleep whatever this is off.
It's snowing outside, and according to the weatherguy, it's going to be snowing straight into tomorrow. This could be a good thing. Maybe if we get it out of the way now, by Halloween we'll get a one day reprieve, so the kids can trick or treat without having to wear their snowsuits.
My best friend left me a very off message on my machine last night. It started something like this, "Luke I am your father ..." But she sounded more blitzed than Darth Vadar-ish when she said that. Maybe I'll try her cell phone on my way to work this morning and see what's up.
But for now, I think I'll go try to rustle up some echanacea, as I am going out on the town tomorrow night, and there's no way I'm going to let a little cold interfere with my plans.
Happy Thursday!
I shouldn't be on here blogging tonight, when I know my Mom may be trying to call.
Actually, she called me earlier today on my cell phone, about 5 minutes into my trip home from work, to inquire if everything was ok, since my last few entries on NWTLO have been, for lack of a better word, depressing.
Had I not been driving, and needing to focus all my attention on the road, I might have broken down into tears, just by the sound of my mother's voice. Though I love my sisters dearly, there is no replacement for the comfort only a mother can give.
So I gave her the facts and spared no details, letting my anger and my hurt simmer along the airwaves to North Carolina, until I began to feel better. That was, until the connection snapped and I found myself talking to dead air, holding the phone out in front of me to try to figure what went wrong.
Figuring she'd call back, I threw my phone to the side, opting to re-adjust the volume level of the CD I had been listening to right before she called, Coldplay's Scientist.
My friend Mike, says that listening to that CD for an extended amount of time, is enough to make you want to throw yourself into a blender. But I disagree ... I don't think a blender would be able to do the job. (Oh bad joke, I know.)
But, thanks to my mother, and thanks to Coldplay, I gave my situation some thought, all the way home ... Deciding to write to Josh, one last time.
That email will not find its way here on NWTLO. Some things just aren't meant to be shared.
I will say that I am glad I wrote it, despite the fact that I wish it wouldn't have been necessary. I guess, it's always a little depressing whenever you have to shut a door and say goodbye, when you'd rather much say hello and ask them how they are.
Actually, she called me earlier today on my cell phone, about 5 minutes into my trip home from work, to inquire if everything was ok, since my last few entries on NWTLO have been, for lack of a better word, depressing.
Had I not been driving, and needing to focus all my attention on the road, I might have broken down into tears, just by the sound of my mother's voice. Though I love my sisters dearly, there is no replacement for the comfort only a mother can give.
So I gave her the facts and spared no details, letting my anger and my hurt simmer along the airwaves to North Carolina, until I began to feel better. That was, until the connection snapped and I found myself talking to dead air, holding the phone out in front of me to try to figure what went wrong.
Figuring she'd call back, I threw my phone to the side, opting to re-adjust the volume level of the CD I had been listening to right before she called, Coldplay's Scientist.
My friend Mike, says that listening to that CD for an extended amount of time, is enough to make you want to throw yourself into a blender. But I disagree ... I don't think a blender would be able to do the job. (Oh bad joke, I know.)
But, thanks to my mother, and thanks to Coldplay, I gave my situation some thought, all the way home ... Deciding to write to Josh, one last time.
That email will not find its way here on NWTLO. Some things just aren't meant to be shared.
I will say that I am glad I wrote it, despite the fact that I wish it wouldn't have been necessary. I guess, it's always a little depressing whenever you have to shut a door and say goodbye, when you'd rather much say hello and ask them how they are.
From a sound sleep to wide eyed awake, the storm outside rages on.
Since I was up, I thought I'd take advantage of the night, and check out the meteor showers. But, thunder and lightning are keeping me safely ensconced inside.
Oh well ... No sense in risking becoming a lightning rod.
So I'm up for a moment and back to bed, before my alarm can wake me up all over again.
Sweet Dreams all.
Since I was up, I thought I'd take advantage of the night, and check out the meteor showers. But, thunder and lightning are keeping me safely ensconced inside.
Oh well ... No sense in risking becoming a lightning rod.
So I'm up for a moment and back to bed, before my alarm can wake me up all over again.
Sweet Dreams all.
Just a quick post to say, that I am taking the night off from thinking, and/or writing.
I think after a day like today, I've more than earned it.
So until tomorrow my pretties, NWTLO is signing off, over and out.
Make a difference! Save A duck!
I think after a day like today, I've more than earned it.
So until tomorrow my pretties, NWTLO is signing off, over and out.
Make a difference! Save A duck!
I didn't trust, and I was right not to trust.
One would think that I would have learned my lesson by now, but in reality, I haven't.
I keep thinking that somewhere, someone or something is going to change. But nothing and no one ever does. In this, they are predictable.
But I won't break, despite how fragile I feel inside. And I won't be angry, even though everything inside me tells me I have a right to be.
I'll simply smile through tears, and remind myself that a risk worth taking, can have numerous outcomes. You can win, you can lose and you can leave, never knowing what you missed.
I am your everything minus one.
An almost all, that leaves you with nothing but a
vague association of feelings.
A jumble of emotions,
without name or cause or reason.
I am a jigsaw puzzle,
the piece that will not fit, and yet
my background is the same,
so easily could I blend into your picture.
But I am faded now from disappointment.
Turned away for lack of color.
Your words trip lightly over pale parchment
and I read between the lines,
to the things you do not say.
To a tomorrow forgotten,
and the words that once held your brightness,
dim now in comparison
to this dark text placed before me.
You who dreams to be everything minus nothing.
But from you,
I would not take away a single element of your being.
Nor pick apart your person, like a
vulture feasting on old bones.
Perfect in your non-perfection.
Real.
And that is you,
the you that held me enthralled and captivated
within moments of conversation,
connecting, never missing a step.
But how we falter now with lack of promise.
The hand of judgement hard upon the gavel,
we are dismissed,
thrown out like yesterdays news
quickly read.
I am old now,
ancient in my wisdom once again learned too late.
Left with reflections that
no longer ripple on your surface,
Washed away from your tide sinking back to sea,
polished smooth at the bottom of your ocean.
~ Stacey
One would think that I would have learned my lesson by now, but in reality, I haven't.
I keep thinking that somewhere, someone or something is going to change. But nothing and no one ever does. In this, they are predictable.
But I won't break, despite how fragile I feel inside. And I won't be angry, even though everything inside me tells me I have a right to be.
I'll simply smile through tears, and remind myself that a risk worth taking, can have numerous outcomes. You can win, you can lose and you can leave, never knowing what you missed.
I am your everything minus one.
An almost all, that leaves you with nothing but a
vague association of feelings.
A jumble of emotions,
without name or cause or reason.
I am a jigsaw puzzle,
the piece that will not fit, and yet
my background is the same,
so easily could I blend into your picture.
But I am faded now from disappointment.
Turned away for lack of color.
Your words trip lightly over pale parchment
and I read between the lines,
to the things you do not say.
To a tomorrow forgotten,
and the words that once held your brightness,
dim now in comparison
to this dark text placed before me.
You who dreams to be everything minus nothing.
But from you,
I would not take away a single element of your being.
Nor pick apart your person, like a
vulture feasting on old bones.
Perfect in your non-perfection.
Real.
And that is you,
the you that held me enthralled and captivated
within moments of conversation,
connecting, never missing a step.
But how we falter now with lack of promise.
The hand of judgement hard upon the gavel,
we are dismissed,
thrown out like yesterdays news
quickly read.
I am old now,
ancient in my wisdom once again learned too late.
Left with reflections that
no longer ripple on your surface,
Washed away from your tide sinking back to sea,
polished smooth at the bottom of your ocean.
~ Stacey
When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie that's amore ...
Or more accurately, a lawsuit.
I had that song in my head this morning, and now being very glad to have gotten rid of it, can go on with the morning post.
So last night was uneventful.
KC and I stayed in, after coming home from family dinner, watched a movie and then went to bed. I watched some cheesy flick about a Scottish hairdresser, competing to win, oh what was it again, something with a p, ah yes, platnum scissors, in a hair styling competition.
At first, I thought it was going to be really horrid, but to my amazement, it didn't suck as bad as I thought. I even laughed a few times, which made staying up late worth the yawning I am still going about doing. Of course, had I slept longer maybe I wouldn't be so tired.
In addition to that, I feel sick this morning. It's either because it's Sunday and tomorrow will be Monday, or I'm just not feeling good.
And I suppose I should admit that there is a slim chance, family dinner was rigger in order to set me up for food poisoning ... Doubtful, since no one seemed overly suspicious ... But still!
Mom is coming up for a visit in November when I take my vacation and I am very excited. Hopefully, the weather won't be too bad by that time, since she's driving up and we'll be able to do things near and far rather than be stuck at home.
I have to think of activities ...
Anyhoo, I think I'm going to go fix myself something hot and steaming to drink, and then go watch the sun rise.
Or more accurately, a lawsuit.
I had that song in my head this morning, and now being very glad to have gotten rid of it, can go on with the morning post.
So last night was uneventful.
KC and I stayed in, after coming home from family dinner, watched a movie and then went to bed. I watched some cheesy flick about a Scottish hairdresser, competing to win, oh what was it again, something with a p, ah yes, platnum scissors, in a hair styling competition.
At first, I thought it was going to be really horrid, but to my amazement, it didn't suck as bad as I thought. I even laughed a few times, which made staying up late worth the yawning I am still going about doing. Of course, had I slept longer maybe I wouldn't be so tired.
In addition to that, I feel sick this morning. It's either because it's Sunday and tomorrow will be Monday, or I'm just not feeling good.
And I suppose I should admit that there is a slim chance, family dinner was rigger in order to set me up for food poisoning ... Doubtful, since no one seemed overly suspicious ... But still!
Mom is coming up for a visit in November when I take my vacation and I am very excited. Hopefully, the weather won't be too bad by that time, since she's driving up and we'll be able to do things near and far rather than be stuck at home.
I have to think of activities ...
Anyhoo, I think I'm going to go fix myself something hot and steaming to drink, and then go watch the sun rise.
