Saturday, December 26, 2009

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Kiss me. I want you to.

"I bare my windowed self untamed and untrained
Dreams that hardly touch our complexions truest faults
If room enough for both my drowsy spirit shall fall
Bold waves tumble oh to the season of my heart
And you have offended my faith and my trust
Until all is lost into the beauty of the day
Until all is lost, until all is lost

But there's something in the way you laugh
And it makes me feel like a child
Aspects of life they confuse me
You and your thesis amuse me
Oh, after and afternoon with yo

Monday, December 21, 2009

Small revelation? Or square one?

Even though it was getting late and my hangover wasn't getting any better, I couldn't bring myself to go home. The digital bank sign let me know that it was 19 degrees out, and the world looked like a scene from a Christmas postcard. I drove straight for a very long time.

I kept asking questions in my head, and I just got more questions.

When I finally found my way home, I wanted this. Just this. Alone, in my room with quiet music, dim lighting and my thoughts.

Every single song on my pandora station puts me on the verge of tears. Everyday I go through I find myself at one point seconds away from misty eyes. When did this start happening? I feel like I turned 20 and everything went to shit. And I ask myself why and all I get are contradictions and more questions and feelings of suspicion and doubt and fear and this is not me. This can't be who I really am. I've been so many different things but never once someone full of fear. Or was I always full of fear but never dug deep enough to see it? And if that is the case what do I fear? Failing? So instead of trying at things, and having them fail I never try at all.

I dont have enough faith in myself. I'm always assuming the worst. How are you supposed to live? Picturing forever or for now? God, I hate this. I hate being so full of doubt with everything in my life. So does this mean that I'm clearly doing something wrong? I hate not being able to connect with anything or anyone. I expect the worst constantly, yet I know that will only bring the worst. . . I keep too much to myself, but if I open up too much I feel vulnerable, but to what? I couldn't tell you. Maybe I have been existing on auto pilot for years and now I'm just coming off of it and trying to sort through so many emotions that I've never wanted to feel and others I've never felt before. And I know everyone else is scared too, and growing up is daunting but why do I look around and it seems like everyone else can do it just fine, but I can't seem to grasp it. I feel like it won't come for me, that I'll be stuck in school forever, that I'll never find happiness.

I don't know what makes me truly happy. I always think grass is greener elsewhere and I'm ready to find it at all times. Is that the way to exist? Sure I'll see alot of things and go different places, but I'll never be content. Will anyone? Does everyone think the grass is greener elsewhere? Or have people already found happiness. And if they have, how? Have they just settled? Have they just stopped wondering what else is out there? Or did they never think like that to begin with? Why do I have this constant and consuming feeling of "this can't be all there is" ? Then again what if what I see is all there is, and I just haven't realized that yet. So since I know my quest is a neverending one, always leading to more questions, does that mean I should just settle? But that feels like a life wasted. So live life always searching or live life always wondering?

Both are a circle.

So after that ridiculous rant I've only come up with one definite.

Funny how it's the one thing I hate.

Monday, December 14, 2009


I have a headache and my stomach feels like there is snakes inside it.
I'm so tired and I don't know why.
I feel like I'm thinking too much and not prioritizing correctly.
Christmas is so soon and I can't bring myself to want to buy anyone anything.
And I don't want a thing from anyone.
Lately, I just want to be left alone.
I have no reason to feel this way, but it is how I feel.
Looking around, society today just sickens me.
I think I should have been born 100 years ago.

I'm done for now.


you don't know me.


I want to write so bad but I don't know where to start, what to say, I have everything to say... but today isn't a day to write. Too much. Too heavy. Emotional thinking isn't clean thinking, it's saturated and heavy and dirty and sits in your chest.

When I do feel something it's so fleeting and hard it's like a lightning strike. And it doesn't even click until you find yourself staring up, with melted shoes.

i'm just typing. come tomorrow i'll be thinking completely different.

but for now there isn't anything i don't find repulsive.

excellent word for my feelings: repulsed.

k bye.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Memory Carcass.

Well here I am again. And it's where I always want to be.
Everyone's asleep, everything is dark. The glow of a computer screen is all I need.
And my unbridled mind.

Tonight my thoughts are circling vultures in my brain, picking at memory carcasses.

Remember how cool and hard the rock was against our backs?
How the night skies swallowed us like a whale?
The waves roared like our laughter.
Eyes catching moonlight and flames.
Sugary fingers
Warm sand.

And simple senses.

Remember the white laced curtains in the stuffy antique room?
Your four overnight bags and a squeaky pull out couch from 1973?
Giggling all night and paintings of babies and ships.
Beaches and shooting stars and ferries and fun.
You will realize the only love in life that matters,
Is to love living.

Reflect on those days and feel infinite.
Examine today and know
Infinite more will come.

Life is the ocean.
Run splashing in, full speed, and she'll resist you.
Walk slowly, know how she ebbs and flows, and she'll take you
To what you want to see.

Monday, November 30, 2009

This one was eerie.

I came to a clearing in my dream and it was a marshy pond, but almost in some kind of a crater. I had to cross the pond without getting too wet and carrying this awkward knapsack. Others crossed it before me and I was going to take their same route. But instead I deviated off to the right because the water looked less murky and more shallow. Yet, I faced pirates, my bag ripped, and in the end I was tripping over a decaying skeleton in the marsh. I woke up sweating, thinking I had to bury the skeleton outside the pond, until I realized I was already awake.

Somebody get me Nyquil, I'm done with dreaming.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009


I'll hang on, everyone will free fall.
Arms wide and laughing.
Whipping winds and messy hair.

It may ache to cling.
But they will shatter on impact
Tiny pieces everywhere.
And my muscles will gain strength.
I'll look down for the graveyard
And see a mosaic.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

November Now.

Well here I am again, stuck in my personal
Robert Frost poem.

Leaves blow on both paths and sharp twigs and branches poke through,

snap. and. crackle.
It's gray out and my
purple scarf smells like my honey granola bar.
My sneakers dont protect from the chill
of the stone I balance on.

I'm here alone, it's what I envisioned this to be.
As things come together, I usually come apart.
But independence and silence
is what woods at dusk offer you.

So I take it in. Stride. One path is wide and familiar
flat and safe.
Another dips, rolls, narrows, and disappears around a large rock.
What's there? A field? Meadow? Rocky death ravine?
Who knows.
Or cares.

I'll hang out under rust colored dead leaves.
Surrounded by cold rocks and far away birds.
Spotlight sun will set and I will be here.
Until white-faced moon peeks through barbed branches,
And peers down at two paths
and a cold gray stone.
All alone.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

Mind Trash.

I'm not afraid of looking and finding nothing.
I'm afraid of seeing everything I ever wanted,
Right. Here.

Life is beautiful.
Time is endless.
Friendships are treasures.
My thoughts are flawed.

Dear Me,
Snap out of it. You have it all right here. What more could you want? Why is it when life finally gives you everything you were looking for , you throw it all out for something completely different? Everything's perfect. But you're just waiting for the slightest crack in it to slip into...


i hate circles.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Black holes and dark matter.

I think it's time to comment on some of my crazy dreams I have because lately they have become more and more bizarre, but more and more alike. Last night I had a dream I was talking to Rory, but he was mostly just talking and I was listening, with tears running down my face. Yet, in my dream I wasn't sad, in fact I wasn't really anything, I was just trying to figure out what it was he was saying. I then noticed in the dream he was peeling through an onion, so I figured I was teary eyed because of the onion. He kept asking me why I was upset and I kept insisting I was fine if only he'd stop peeling the onion. Then he looked up and I realized he had no eyes and he asked "what onion"? and I woke up.

A week or two ago I watched in my dream my 6 year old self beat up essentially her twin while I fought what seemed to be my twin. As we kicked and swung at eachother, in my old Abington apartment from when I was very little, she stopped and asked what waswrong with my eyes. It was then that I realized both me and one of the 6 yr old versions of me had no eyes...just black holes.

I asked my mom what she thought and she suggested maybe I fear people not seeing me for who I really am, or a sense of not being able to see things for myself. I don't like to think of these dreams as a manifestation of any type of fear though, because I know I have nothing to fear in my life. Unfortunately though I am feeling rather under accomplished and find myself struggling to stay positive. Who am I kidding, I feel utterly clueless. I just feel aimless and circling. I KNOW life is a "circle" but I HATE thinking of it like that, I want to march forward, straight line going straight up. Circles just make me dizzy.

Someone in math told me today that there are two types of people in the world. One type will stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon and gasp at the splendor that nature created and see only beauty and magic. The other will throw a few rocks down and say "it's a big hole".

I hope something strikes me when I see it.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Norwell and Scituate Backroads in Fall.

"Love all, trust few, do wrong to none."

I usually think you're a little sappy and redundant in your writing, and I find you hard to quote seriously at times, but you hit the nail on the head here. Thanks, I needed that while swimming in Literature homework.

I'm bored and just wanted to post, though I hate posts that say nothing. I don't know sometimes they're needed.

I'm in a pleasant mood. I had a very rough week questioning EVERYTHING, but looking back I know a lot more now I feel like. I have opened up the discussions about my future with my parents, family, and others that are important in my life. I'm realizing I can't internalize my fears about it, and it's better to ask someone who has had more experience. I don't know where exactly life will take me but I know a few things for sure. I want to write in life. I want to be in Boston, living in Boston, at some point sooner rather than later. It's what I planned when I was sixteen and has been my plan ever since so I will make that a reality. I want my life's work to include reading and religion and history. I want to keep questioning things and then see things for myself. Contrary to my own prior belief, I would love to have a family someday, and I realized that this afternoon watching the kids. There was something about waiting at the end of their driveway under a red maple, looking around the corner for the lethargic yellow bus to come spit them out. No matter what Nick and Mia's day entails, they love coming home and are excited to see me standing there. They know I'm going to make sure their homework is neat, their apples have no skin, and that they have "extra crispy crust" on any chicken pot pie I ever make them. When I'm no longer a selfish, wandering, cynical 20 something year old, I think I could make an excellent mother.
Until then, I hope my upcoming days are filled with learning, destinations, progression, dreams, new memories, and busy activities.

This weekend will be fun and stress free. I'll live it right.

Monday, October 19, 2009

The Sun Came Out.

Nannies and Grampies make everything feel better. I think I'll stay for a spell in South Carolina this winter, either winter or spring break. My grandparents venture down for the entire winter (they live life right) and stay in Hilton Head, so I think for a week or so I'll tag along. That will give me something to look forward to. Plus, I'll be 21, and wine with old card games and stories about old NH vacations would be the relaxation I need after this semester.

I love that I'm writing when I feel like I need it, but it distracts me in my day so much. I need to save it for late nights, but then again I won't sleep. Today I should've been very busy with cleaning but I don't know where to start or pick up where I left off. So many things to donate, sort, find a home for, or get rid of. I want it to look brand new, because right now I feel like I'm 18 in it.

I was thinking how I subconsciously change everything in my life at the same time. When I was ten, I changed schools, changed rooms, and changed friends. When I got my first real job I changed my room too, and the last time I changed my room I was seventeen and I completely gutted and rebuilt that thing. I think I also started Marylous around that time. I'm a firm believer in when you have a cluttered rom you have a cluttered mind. Too bad my now cluttered mind keeps me from fixing this crazy room.
I need organizational skills desperately.

I like the point made to me last night that Halloween should start the new year. It will for me from here on out because what better time to kick off a new beginning then in a transition month of seasons changing, with a holiday where no one cares and everyones becomse EXACTLY what they want to be? It's fantastic. I had a lovely Halloween last year and met some of the coolest and most enlightened people and learned alot and had a lot of fun. I feel like it essentially continued since then, and now a year later I keep learning and gaining new ideas, which is how I want all of my days to be lived. Though I am irrational at times and overly opinionated about certain things I adore hearing what everyone else has to say about anything. We all look at the same picture, just behind different lenses.

Life's ok today.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Postcard Perfect

I think I need to get motivated.

I drove through the beautiful backroads of Duxbury, Scituate, Hingham, Pembroke and other towns this morning in the pouring gray rain. But even still I found the little fences and colonial fields and brilliant foliage to stand out and charm me. I fell in love with the ease of the drive, the quiet of the dawn and the need for me to find happiness in all the things I once loved and still do. I want to be everything I am and nothing I'm not. I was told today by a dear friend that this is a very weird time in everyone's life, so I don't feel so alone and marooned with all the questions I have and the overwhelming sensations I sometimes feel. Mostly it is with the future, but I know if I work to stay motivated and clear minded then things naturally fall into place. I just know that when I look back on my life, I want it to show progression and a steady incline, with very little plateaus or drop offs.

As much as I am romanticized by New England scenery, I can feel stagnation setting in again. I think I am turning more and more into a little old lady at heart, when the cold weather sneaks in, I want to sneak out and be warm and keep up my productivity and happiness in a warmer climate. I searched for housing and education in the Southwest today. I was nervous doing so,but I really would like a change, even for only a year. So many others have changed their worlds in one solitary year, I would like to as well. Sometimes the best part of a story is the setting.

I'm on a quest to find what makes me happy all the time. I know constant happiness is a stretch and everyone has their off days, but I'd like to feel a sense of completion somewhere. No more loose ends or "unfinished business". I never want to question emptiness in my life ever again, and I never want to compromise who I am, which I felt I might have done lately. No guilt, no regret, no wondering, and no repressed feelings. Everyone be honest with everyone else, myself included.

I think I'll take up cooking, painting, and more reading. I find them to be the most therapeutic lately. I made a lovely soup the other day with all sorts of vegetables and beans and great spices, I was really impressed! I also finished it off by baking some delicious peanut butter cookies with a plum sweet all on a rainy afternoon, and I truly enjoyed myself. I need to work on baking some things from scratch, I used to do that often, but have fallen out of the habit. Time management is also something I'll work on developing.


P.S. I looked at teachoverseas again... Russia still has my heart!

Wednesday, September 23, 2009


I missed someone.

I regretted something.

I realized a loss.

I accepted a change.

I wanted to apple pick.

I described a mistake.

I wished for company.

I drove in silence.

I forgot a name.

I considered a reunion.

I realized an old dream.

I kissed a familiar love.

I made a new promise.

I felt butterflies.

My mind is a hunter, my spirit is a nomad,
and love is a dammed stream.
But this summer was a washout,
The currents are building no doubt,

And winter frost is never too cold in dreams.

Snow in moonlight. Mittens. Neon lights.
Stillness. Drinking for warmth. Wishing for more.

Driving into indigo mountains.
Fast music. Scarves. One pillow. Shared giggles.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Dullest Day EVER.

I want my own little place so bad!

I feel as if everyone moved out of their parents' homes this year and into their own apartments. Everyone is talking about packing up and leaving and I come home from work and survey my cluttered room with the dusty beanie babies on the stereo and bamboo pictures on the wall. It seemed so small and confined and not comfortable. It wasn't decorated or laid out in a way that appeals to me anymore. Too much clutter. Too much STUFF! I feel like I need to pack it all up and go elsewhere to reorganize all my little trinkets correctly, and throw out the things I no longer need. I try and do it now, clean out my room, but no matter what I do more things pop out and it always feels cluttered and full.

Mom says that to get an apt. now is silly. I should save all I can and buy a house young to build equity. But I cant imagine living at home for another what...5 to 6 years? I want to come home to a place thats me, with carpets and worn furniture and an old T.V. set and some nice pictures on the wall and wallpaper and someday a dog. And pretty curtains. I don't even know if I could live with someone. Sometimes I really want to, and realistically, I'd probably have to since I can't afford it alone, but I'm awfully picky with that. Hence dorm living never being an option.

I really go back and forth on this alot. Sometimes I'm content to just live at home especially no where I can come and go pretty much as I please, but sometimes that makes me feel stuck and holds me back from progressing. I don't know we will see.

I'm bored and honestly started this post for that reason alone. I just got home from work and after standing mindlessly in front of an open fridge for a good 7 minutes I decided to mindlessly sit in front of a computer for a good 40 minutes...

I made decent money at work today but I feel like everyone has been in a sour mood and no one has wanted to talk. Maybe it's just me. Midweek hangovers aren't something I intend on having again anytime soon. I wish I had someone to call just to chat with without feeling like I'd be pestering.

Alright this is lame, I'm going to go watch food network and talk to Moepup, even though he hates being bugged at night.

Pleasant dreams, I hope.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

It's the kaleidoscope in
treetops and sun.
When fingertips are cool and soft
And the sun is a blood orange,
juicy and fresh.

Life is laid out like a treasure chest.
And forever is something you exhale
on the back of a neck,
feeling it heavy like Bayou heat.
A scene you imagine God painting Himself
with an ancient brush of
sage bristles and a wooden oak handle.

Inhale panoramic views
white with glare.

Hold. Your. Breath.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Here, Boy.

I saw it.

White and hot.

Like the western sun
reflecting off the aluminum diner,

and an open sky, color matching chipping paint.
With rusty bumpers
and a panting passenger,

wide-eyed and tongue lolling.

Dusty parking lots fade and my roaring engine

sounds like a thousand broncos across desert sands.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Let's chat.

I was noticing today how much communication and polite interactions between people have deteriorated. A man came into my line and I greeted him with a smile saying " hi sir how are you?" and his response was " large, dark and icy."...oh ok is that your coffee order or your demeanor? My next customer was no better, particularly demanding and in a rush because his 5 year old was being a bit of a disruption. Not only that but he was snappy at his kid, and the boy reacted the way any kid would, he whined and continued his behavior. The man wouldn't even slow down and chill out long enough to realize that his son was being a brat because he wanted the right kind of attention.

And dont even get me started on the cell phones today.

Every other customer it seemed was yammering away on cell phone, interjecting their orders between breaths and sentences then apologizing to the people they are talking to for "being interrupted"...terrible.

Even in the workplace, essential information that needs to be conveyed personally to be effective is reduced to being written in bubble letters on hot pink paper and taped on a supply closet door. Great management.

These past few days I have been pretty much without a cell phone, which I thought would be devastating and a huge inconvenience. But to be honest, it is kind of nice. I feel myself being less stressed, not worrying where it is, if I missed a call, or if my inbox is full. I was thinking about just getting rid of a cell phone all together, saving $30 a month and leaving it at that. Cell phones really are just another technological advancement that I feel we probably could have done without. Everyone says " I can't imagine not having my iphone/blackberry/laptop/bluetooth/etc.etc." Really? I can. I can imagine a payphone on street corners. I can imagine using landlines just fine, or walking down the block to a neighbors to ask for something rather than sitting on your ass and sending a text or email. I can imagine a world where people waved hello to others in a small town or stopped to chat on a morning jog or a walk with the dog. Am I a utopian dreamer? I wouldn't say so, I can just recall how the world once worked. Now everyone is plugged in, and tuned out. I literally watched a couple walk their 2 dogs the other day side by side... each with their own set of white headphones snaking up from their ipod arm bands. It repulsed me. Even at the gym everyone is plugged in. I can understand the desire for wanting to tune out there, but I'm still in shock at how the instant people see others using mobile technology they know not to approach. It's like mosquitos and repellent. And so many people use it as just that, to deter others from talking to them! What's so bad about talking to other people? That's how you learn things, get different perspectives or atleast a good laugh. It's how you reconnect and revisit things, or discuss issues and ideas. It's how our ancestors figured out how to build things, discover things, trade things, make things, by communicating and working together. Now it feels like we are all working seperately. Don't get me wrong, I am ALL for independent work and living, but when do we draw a line?

I feel social networking through a computer is replacing interactions we could be having on a daily basis. Some may argue that things such as facebook or other social sites will essentially bring the world closer, working with people we never would be able to work with if we didn't have this technology. Yes, that is a valid point. However, I also can see these things taking away from everyday social interactions people could have face to face, be it with neighbors or family or old friends. It takes us out of where we are and brings us to someplace else, which is fine but so many forget about where they come from or how to behave, simple manners, or the people you see everyday. For a long time I thought the same way, that you needed to get so far away to find answers or see things in a different light. But by taking things slowly and listening to others, really paying attention, you can find a surprising amount right here.

So when my next customer hung up her phone when she placed her coffee order, I thanked her.

Lady- "Oh honey, you shouldn't thank me, that's what everyone should do automatically."

Me- "I agree, but you would be surprised at the amount who continue to talk and order at the same time!"

Lady- "That's so rude. Personal interaction should never be made impersonal."

Me-"Wow. Well put."

Thursday, August 6, 2009


i watch it spill.

it is slow and sweet.

breathing in then gushes ,

clinks and drops and bubbles
giggling and glances and sighs

more to be said with a bottle
under the uncaged sky.

stars so low you could catch them

witha minnow net like fireflies.
show me this new kind of reaction
and i promise an open mind.

clear and sparkling and smooth
rich and spicy and tart.
your thoughts and plans are hinting
what i didnt expect at the start.

The taste that lingers makes my lips smack.
its new and unsteady and strange
like land legs on a fishing boat
it leaves my chest full and constrained.

Robust flavors and undertones
of comforts, expectations and dreams
release the neck and pass the bottle
murmuring about things to be seen.

It's all new to me.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Monday, July 27, 2009

"Photographic memory; remember the film, or is it digital!?"

My fortune cookie breakfast. Bizarre.

Friday, July 24, 2009

I found these today in a six year old's bookshelf.

"On and on we sped, as through a mighty sea,
cross-hatched with lines and shadows,
our nostrils flaring in the windy mist.
The landscape rumbled to our engine's roar,
And my heart sang an ode impossible to repeat."
--Paolo Buzzi

"Where lies the land to which the ship would go?
Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know.
And where the land she travels from? Away,
Far, far behind, is all they can say..."
--Arthur Hugh Clough.


Saturday, July 18, 2009


When I want to post something new, I get the same feeling before jumping into a swimming pool. The water is always too bright in the sun, like the white computer screen. The thought of jumping right in is daunting because of the shock of the cold, but easing in for me atleast feels a little better. Then again I do everything so roundaboutly(that even a word?). But I always know once I sink in and swim, there's no getting me out. Underwater is like being able to sit in your own head; it's empty and silent unless you want to change that.

I sat out by my pool all day today. I felt slightly guilty just lounging by my pool. I knew I should be organizing my room or cashing in my checks or I could have even went and registered for classes. But instead my dad and I moseyed out back together, sat in the sun perpendicular to eachother, listened to Springsteen, and opened our books. I had a book on philosophy, and he had a book on murder and mystery I believe. I think those are his favorites, or whatever it is that Harlan Coben writes about.

Neither of us read though.
It was nice just to talk. To take in the backyard. To look at the pool, clear and inviting. We talked about life. My dad and I can do these things once in a while but only on our own terms. We won't open up to anyone but ourselves and once in a very great while to eachother. The other day I drove him to work because his brake line went. We rode in complete silence for most of the way listening to a mixed cd. Yet today we talked for hours. About little league. About driving. About trips. About lyrics. About ambitions. About why we want the things we want out of life. I know he sees what I envision myself becoming as a little incomplete, a little lonely. But that's just me and he is learning to accept that. I know he wonders why I envision life alone but he wont ask and that's why we talk for as long as we do. There's no pressure, he just lets me talk.

My mom however, she badgers. Everything is a desperate attempt to connect, to find answers, to ask questions. I feel bad because I don't think I give her enough time, or enough answers but I don't have the latter, which leaves me not wanting to give her the chance to ask. Sure, we laugh and giggle at TV shows and coo over our dogs but I know she gets jealous when dad and I talk. Lately, she has been saying more and more " why don't we ever just talk?" or " you never talk to me". Mom, I will. Just listen.

Well, after my dad left me on the deck, it was shady enough for the puppies to sit out with me. And finally I read a little. I sat in the heavy July heat listening to the June bug whine and the filter bubble and Rt. 18 distantly hum with pollution and traffic. Teddy came out and we talked.
It's still surprising to me but I can really relate to Teddy now. I noticed it today. I asked him for advice on something I had been grappling with all day and he had the right answer. It was crude and funny how he put it but essentially he told me what I needed to hear. He gave a wise answer and when we talked our eyes met and I never noticed that we had the same eyes. Same shape and color and everything. It makes sense since we're siblings, but it was jarring to see something I thought was unique about myself on someone else.

I told him I wanted to go on a trip with him, and I think a NYC road trip to watch the redsox play is now in the works. He's older and can do things for himself now. Instead of looking at Teddy as a little brother, a chore, etc. I see him as someone I want to be around because it's always fun and always enlightening. The little bastard surprises me with things he has done and what he has to say. But I think he has always been full of these surprises. Now I'm just taking the time to listen.

Families are a lot like sea glass. So shiny and sharp at first until daily routine, fights, spilled milk, bills, messy rooms, teenage angst, financial stress, changing jobs all crash over thm until they dull and smooth. Some dissintegrate against the rocks, but some ride out the tide, changing with it, pieces eroding away. Yet when you think all those years were filled with nothing but the ebbing and flowing of stress and anger, you stop and find something smooth and beautiful and treasured and rare. And it's nice to keep.

Sidenote: When I told my dad I wanted to go on a trip he asked to where.
"Savannah because it's haunted. Will you come with me?" He smiled and said "When? I only have one vacation left from work and I think I'm gunna save it for the winter".

" I wanna go in August. I have to month off and I wanna drive down so I can see other things too."

"Me and mom did that. I'd only fly. Long drive, Elaine." That's where it kinda clicked with me. He went back to looking at his book and I sat there feeling my anger bubble again. Instead of stowing it away, I really examined it this time and asked myself why am I angry now?

Truthfully, I want a discovery all my own. I want to be green and new in someplace with someone who won't say "I've done this/seen this/ had this before". But so many people I know have done/seen things between eighth grade trips, past adventures, random drives. Now even my dad has already done my dream trip. I guess I was angry because I felt jipped somehow. My dad took Teddy to cool new places following the Redsox for the last couple of years. They saw Toronto, Baltimore, Philly, D.C., and along the way Niagra Falls and the Great Lakes and other places they cruised into. I don't know, it isn't their fault at all, I opted out of some because of the label "baseball trip". I never thought I could go and make it my own.

I guess I jipped myself.

I don't know what I was expecting out of this post. Usually I feel clarity, or relief. But right now my head is still turning with different thoughts that I can't quite catch and articulate. Maybe I'll write more later or maybe I'll just go for a swim. It's early still and warm and I'm stalling for other things I have to do. I think I'll go swim and end my day where it started, easing into the water and listening to just me.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Vacate to wait for some new blank slate.

I've missed my after midnight posts. I have so much to write about and catch up on that I really do not know where to begin, or when I start where to end it. These last few months have been a blur of hesitation,
and still more waiting. I was looking at this summer as being my great escape, and I spent all last year counting the seconds until I could leave this area with hardly a look back and go where I please. But it's mid July, school's been out for two months, and all I have to show for it is some new books, a little bit of money saved, and a camping trip. Thinking about my lack of exploring the other day made me incredibly bitter. So many friends and acquaintances are out in the world; in Paris, in London, across the country, at sea, in the city, or in the jungle. It's like me and everyone I know are the fuzzy ends of dandelions, and everyone caught the wind and scattered, but I'm the only one stuck to the stem.

I must say camping was fun. Unplanned and harried, it was what I would want any of my trips to be, last minute and unconventional. And though I didn't technically travel anywhere new, it was a new experience and a new face in a place with countless old memories. The days were lazy and filled with sun and the nights were blurry with smoke and rain and wine. I was able to visit my old haunts, tell old stories, and miss old friends. I thought it would be hard to leave and I would want to stay longer but when I heard the words "wanna just leave now?" I found my keys fumbling into the ignition so fast that I almost forgot to check and see if we left anything behind. And honestly if I had, I dont think I would have cared, I love the area, yes, but it's old. Also arguable, I love the "old" but dwelling in it I feel has been holding me back. The past I realize has been making me doubt myself and my future. But what I was a few years ago is nothing like I am now, or anything like what I want to be. And who knows, maybe next year/month/hour I'll completely 180 what is important to me again, and be looking for a different route to race down.

Even though the weekend escape was refreshing and needed, it leaves me thirsty for more. I thought of the word "vacation" coming from the word, obviously, "vacate" which is synonymous with relinquish. When you vacate something, you give up don't you? You vacate a home, you give it up. You vacate a dream, it is abandoned. Left empty? So are vacations our own ways of giving something up? And what is it we relinquish? For some I guess it's purely our daily routines, others it's fears and stresses, and for the more restless it is a hope to abandon ourselves. And everyone shares a common conclusion that in order to achieve this, you must first remove yourself from what you know. But wouldn't the ultimate "vacation" be the ability to escape anything you've ever known before without having to leave. To discover something new in something you think is so old and worn, it can't possibly have anything left? Or is it better to discover the new and compare it to what you vacated? I'm rambling.

But the other day it was finally beautiful out, after weeks of rain. I woke up early and went for a walk. I walked down to the bank and cashed in my coins Ihave begun to emass again and then headed for the church basement and snatched up a new book. On my way back home I passed The house at the end of my street my mom fondly calls " Whitman's finest". Its an old three decker that is falling apart, with an unpainted pickett fence and warped sidewalk blocks overrun with crabgrass. Outside in a dirty plastic lawn chair sat a shirtless man, browning his beer gut with a Bud in hand next to a handmade sign that said " This is as far as I can afford to go on my vacation". Caught off guard, I laughed pretty hard as I walked by. He smiled and waved and I asked if he's gotten any good responses to his sign. He said a few people have honked but most just wave and he claimed to be enjoying it regardless. "This really is as far as I need to go".

And I guess, for the time being, it really is.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

My longtime friend,

Summer you have arrived. I will enjoy you to the fullest extent this year. You've always proved to be such a fun and revolutionary season for me so I expect nothing less! I would like to be outside as much as possible, Summer, so please be kind with the sun and those 80 degree days. However, your warm showers are always very welcomed, and one of the few surprises I truly enjoy. Oh and summer, please not too much wind. It disturbs the bee nests and they get aggravated. Plus it isn't good for canoeing or fires. And summer, could the clouds be white and puffy, lazy and brief? Except for some really good thunderstorms, with vivid lightning naturally.

Oh! I almost forgot, I would prefer a lot of clear nights, especially when the moon is new or waning.

Summer, you're lovely and much anticipated. You transitioned very well from Spring and already proving to live up to my expectations. I hope I'm not asking for too much. You're a dream.

Very Truly Yours, and All My Regards,

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

let's go outside. the woods look good to me.
grab my hands.

i want to spin so fast.
throw my head back.


it's dumb to be scared of things. holds me back so much, and i'm scared about

every aspect of my life right now. but its 93 degrees out and i can't worry about my feelings.
whatever they may be.
about anything and everything.
both lacking and overwhelming.
ebbing and surging like the tide.
that i'm going to go dive into right now.


Monday, April 27, 2009

she's just shy

the miasma of frost and greys
gives way to my dreams
of jammed windows and spider-webbed screens
of mulch covered t-shirts
and fresh young greens
sea grass pillows for my wild schemes
with the sounds of waves yawning
while those stars wink and these eyes gleam

sharing air as sweet as ice cream
i know what this means...Y

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

now it is.

Rose petal lips
for my kaileidescopic eye.
Ethereal oils smearing
moonless night skies
blue and lavender.
Pages of head too heavy
hand to heart
heart too fast
fast to run?

magic of disappearing
art of illusion.

Lust is cheap
love is rare
Trust is treasure
glass hearts can scare

is this clear?
As dusty roads and summer haze.

"Try not to remember any of this. It's not important."

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

I've Seen Jerusalem.

I like the edge
but heights make my head float a little.
I can walk a line
but there is no doubt I'll trip.

My feet are big
and I never had balance.
Mistakes follow me like pigeons
but I'm the one who leaves breadcrumbs.
I always colored outside the lines.
In ink that can never erase.
So don't be surprised when I hold a flame
to that edge
until its fire.

My head was hurting so much when I drove to you last night. The cd was the right volume and the hum of my exhaust was almost soothing, but the pounding feeling in the back of my brain was almost too much. I took the snaking black roads through giant doll houses and rolling sea grass dunes. At the top of the hill, I saw you and you were what I was feeling inside, wild. You reached up, punching into the air, throwing spray and brine. You swirled and threw yourself against the rocks that were plunked into your center, all around. The wind was whipping when I got out of my car in that empty parking lot. I knew I shouldn't be here alone, it wasn't safe. But I wanted nothing near me, I wanted no one to answer to, I wanted no one to know I existed. I knew something was wrong and I always think you have the answer.

In my sandals, I climbed over the guard rail and onto the rocks, shaking. I sat down and held my legs close as I watched you roll and dip, crash and recede. I couldn't see the horizon, which made me feel like you were endless. So I told you in my mind what was going on with me, and I told the lighthouse what I was scared of, and I told the small shack on the rock island what I wanted most in life. I whispered into the stars what I didn't believe in, and what I did. And you were all the best audience I've ever had.

But I didn't speak a word. I hope I don't ever need to.
I think I'll see you soon though.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Bubbles and the Details.

The steam clings to the window.
Billions of little dew droplets
clear baby marbles.
The steam carries the scent

of vanilla mint tea
and red velvet cake.
The steam wafts the music
and my men sing me my songs
of escape, renewal, and sometimes
the heart.
The steam makes my body heavy
and my skin lobster red.
Pretty soon the drain will swallow
my self indulgent lounging and thoughts
but for now
they leave me feeling
warm and full, and content?
I think I'm getting there.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

It's nothing.



and you're back at square one?

I bet it's nothing.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Hit me like Bricks.

I could not wake up this morning. The most awful dreams kept swallowing me back up, but I was so close to consciousness I lost the ability to tell what was really happening. Finally I broke free of them when I thought I was lost in a hostel on a tricycle with Portugese police after me.

When I walked upstairs and no one was home I felt relieved, then instantly lonely. So incredibly lonely. At this point I just want to talk to someone, sit close and have a very long conversation with someone I care about. I don't even know what I would say, what words would fly from my lips but I know once I started I wouldn't want to stop. It's such a different and bizarre feeling, but I am sick of always being the quiet one, not even "quiet" but the reserved one I guess, about everything.

I am angry with myself for proving yesterday that I am still so young. I am still very naive. I am still putting myself in bad situations that cause me stress. I saw a lot of things jeopardized running through my head, and all of a sudden I cared a little bit more about the people and things and goals I have in my life. And I feel like I have been an awful and selfish person for a very long time now and I want that to change. I miss my family. That was the first thing I really thought when I got out of that car yesterday was " I miss my family". I wonder if all idiots in that same situation instantly think of that.

I need to make myself some boundaries. I need to mature a little bit more. I paint a lovely picture in my mind that only I can control myself and my fate and I have it all figured out and I dont need to live by the rules of this world, of the "American Dream". I embrace my unconventional views and ways of thinking but at the same time they blur me from the reality of where I come from. I think sometimes I like to think I was hatched out of an egg, that I don't have to answer to anyone but myself because of the abandonment I have felt before. But I definitely have dished out that same sense of abandonment to so many in the past, and even now. I want to balance. I need to balance. I want my family back in my life again, they've been on the outside peering through foggy glass for far too long. I have to balance what is important, and what really matters. Family is a responsibility too, and a precious gift that I no longer intend to ignore.

My dad once gave me a rosebush to plant when I was about twelve or thirteen. A little note was in it that said "Pretty roses for a pretty girl", his wonderful attempt at some play on words. I found that note when I was fifteen and held a lighter to the corner of it, wanting it to catch on fire. It was slow to catch but when it did, I panicked and I put it out quickly. Only the corner was blackened and I tucked it away, knowing I was acting out of irrational anger. I found that a few nights ago and I felt I had come so far since blackening that edge. But then I realized, there were no roses, the plow had ripped them up 3 years ago and I told my dad I would buy the next rosebush. But all I still have is that blackened little notecard.

I want them to be pink and little like they were last time. And I want them to grow nice and slow like I still am. And I want only my Dad to help me plant them. And I want my mom to make me lemonade on the warm May day when I probably do this. Then I want us to go out to lunch or to play a board game and have us all hate it but laugh at the same time. And I want Teddy to come home so we can all sit home at night and watch bad reality TV and laugh until we cry. Like we used to.

Things changed alot but it isn't too late to fix them. I don't think I have to say a word about anything, just show that now I'm ready to not be such a background figure in this family anymore.

Friday, April 3, 2009

Meaning means 21 grams of nothing to measurements of everything to attachments full of...

I have to write everything I'm thinking right now. Everything that is rushing and swirling and smearing in the squiggly cracks of my brain and rough walls of my mind. I'm pourng it out in a torrential whirl as fast as it came streaming through.

Creative Writing was incredible today.

We started presenting our "about me" kind of projects, and I sat there knowing they were going to be really good, some great even. This class so far has taught me to reserve my usual harsh judgement and dismissive nature. Everyone is something else underneath, it isn't just a select few like I once thought.

This one kid goes, Adam. Very brooding, very dark, he's kind of a pretentious asshole but in the best way possible and we embrace him for that. His is a picture and a written poem. The poem is about his drug abuse, about vacant rooms and heavy air. About lying in filth and wishing to die. His picture, well... he took it of himself in a tiled shower stall. Cracks between the tiles were jungle green with mildew and dirt. Mold stains streaked the dusty rose colored upper walls. He was nude, facing profile, and in black letters on the back wall it said " I'll rape your wife".

Then we have Nick. He is quirky and humorous and deep in an enlightened way and we embrace him for that. He talks of meanings and what that means to him. He likens himself to a seed, only to show that he isn't a seed, he is himself, and there are only similarities. And that in life, things are meaningless until you attach meaning but the meaning you attach is empty to everyone but you, so is life full of meaning all around you or empty attachments and hope?

Then there was Dan. Dan is funny and a big joke and I've known him forever, but I never knew he had a deeper side. He wrote a beautiful monologue about regretting the past, about lost relationships, second chances that land you elsewhere, and in a sense, love. It was raw and hard to hear, but listening to it all made me think, and I walked out of class with a piece of every single one of them because a piece of each of them were floating in the electrically charged air of that small classroom on the corner.

I have been asking people some pretty weird questions lately that have been popping into my head. The other night sitting with my mom I asked her " what are you made up of?" and she never hesitated in her soft response of "well, I guess I'm made of my family and my experiences and my memories. Thats what defines people I guess. Make sense?"

Yesterday I asked little Mia, the six year old I watch, " Hey Mia what are you made up of?"
In the innocence and literalism only a child can throw at you she says " Um...blood and guts." So matter of factly too.

The other night, I asked Rory if he believed people have souls. He brought up the fact that when someone dies, there is 21 grams that is unaccounted for. Always.

What does this all mean to me, does it mean anything?

So i sit in my cluttered red car, rain collecting, with the skipping cd on, with the windshield wipers off, in the traffic of students, wanting to leave the tarred roadway to Massasoit and spill out onto the dirty streets to wherever.

My thoughts begin to work again, they stopped replaying over and over the class I was just in. I thought hard about what I believed. Is everything we find meaning in all so meaningless? And if that is true, am I just so overly sensitive to find so much meaning in everything I see, or attach meaning to places and objects. But if I'm so overly sensitive how is it that everyone sees me as "the robot", emotionally detached and incredibly stoic? Is the meaning we leave in places and people the pieces of ourselves, those missing 21 grams? Is everyone, past and present, preserved in memories and familiar attachments to otherwise things that are nothing? And why do we even give things meaning? Seashells from a fun day at the beach, a lock of hair, a movie ticket stub, a crumpled picture, a dirty penny, all of this is trash to someone, but treasures to another. So what does that mean?

We are all made up of blood and guts. But whats makes them churn? When we hear our favorite love song or see a rare natural wonder, why do we feel it in our hearts or stomachs? Why is there a sinking feeling, a squeeze, and that dizzying sense of spinning circles when you dig through your dirty room and find your old shoebox of past pictures, dried rose petals, old poems, letters, and miscellaneous items? Is that our souls stirring fo a minute? Is it really in there, holding everything that we feel is so profound and different about our own lives, that we feel sets us apart? Is that where our meaning is, and when we die does it burst free like a bubble into the air?

A week or two ago I hit a cat. The road was really dark, and it scurried out so fast my brakes didnt even have time to slow me. It went through both wheels, and died instantly no doubt. I went back to it and Rory moved it out of the road. We knocked at a nearby house to see if it was theirs, they said no but gave us a bagfor it. Rory picked it up by the legs and I held the bag open.
" Ok Elaine don't look please."

But I did. I was already white as alabaster and choked into silence but I looked. I didn't see blood or any odd angles, it was just a cat, like it was sleeping. Only there was something so different about it. It hung limp. It's eyes held no glint. Instead of green marbles, they looked like mossy stones. And as he lifted it to be placed in the bag, all I could think about was how heavy that cat was. How much weight dangled there.

"I can't do it. No I can't please, I'm sorry I can't put it in the bag."

I couldn't bear to feel the weight of what I caused in between my own hands. That cat was someones pet, someone fed it, pet it, loved it. And that was all gone because I was doing 45 in a 35, have shitty brakes, and poor night vision. My voice was strangled with panic of this realization and regret. Was that little kitty, as heavy as it looked to me, 21 grams lighter?

I feel better that I wrote this, but I still feel confused and on the verge of someting here. I have more to say on the subject, but my battery is dying and I need to find the cable for my laptop. I'm going out tonight, and it will no doubt be an eventful evening with many different parts and moods to it. I'm going to try and relax, take a hot shower.

Breathe deep. 21 grams worth.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

i'm wide awake and so alive.

Things I truly enjoy:


-the seaside



-driving at night with the windows down.

- my "Beach at Night" mix

-mobile smoke breaks

-eye freckles

-late night blog posts


-clear moonless skies


-sea grass


-1910s Victorian style




-new hampshire


-lemonade, homemade

-blank notebooks.

-used up notebooks too

-Rexhame and the windmill at night

-remembering dreams


-Alfred Noyes and e.e. cummings

-eclectic cuisine


-my pandora station


-climbing rocks


-space and time




-megan follows Y

i truly enjoy so much at the moment. my summer will be warm honey and ethereal.

i believe in godless pale blue skies

that match my eyes
in the end i surmise
it's all a surprise
making everday
a birthday.

Monday, March 30, 2009

Well I must say Joshua Radin is phenomenal.

Noah first introduced me to him about a month or two ago, and the song I heard was nice and pleasant, nothing more for me. I mean I enjoyed his simple lyrics and easy melodies but it didn't grab me and take me in wholeheartedly. However, more and more of him has been trickling into my pandora station.

And then I heard Brand New Day today.

It's real good, check it out.


I feel like kind of typing things out and seeing how things are going right now. Typing and writing are such a great way for me to take survey of what I'm thinking and keep in touch with myself. Everyone knows how bad I am with keeping in touch and my tendencies to disappear, I feel like I do it to myself sometime. I'm a runaway train half the time, going way too fast on tracks promising to take me anywhere new.

I have been giving a lot of thought to my travel piece for Creative Writing. I was thinking of prose writing or loose poetry, like my professor did about the rooms. I want to do hands, but pages are good too. Yeah, pages probably suit better. Going to be tricky making it about traveling though, tying it all together about how pages are well traveled. Maybe I'll type it all out on my typewriter and some old paper so it looks worn and weathered. I like my different ways to write. My old journal, my "points to ponder", my notebook doodles, my canvas new notebook, my typewriter, this shitty blog.

I guess I could say a bit more, I was planning on making this an actual meaningful post, but I'm just rambling at this point, and it is 4 am. Late night writes do hit the spot, but I have so much to do tomorrow! School and the gym and work and projects.

Ok no more. Bed now. Maybe tomorrow, same ridiculous time I'm sure.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Quiero sus manos en mi piel.

It's that second in time, when that one grain of sand through the hourglass, the last little one...
Your helium mind
your swimming vision
you're pushed in, you can almost feel large invisible hands pressing.
Time is slow and thick, like your thoughts
that no longer matter

that never really did
they just hold you back
so just letting it go and
smiling back feels
like opening roses
to soft rain
and summer warmth.
When cool moist air
can refresh and not dampen
and cigarette smoke
has never swirled and dispersed so easily
lazily lingering and waltzing under parking lot lights.
When asphalt isn't industrial and imprisoning

just a track for the magic carpet ride
to anywhere.
Because I'll go anywhere.
My life is a song lyric
on this skipping cd
with all the rushing of breaths and lips and skin.
It's anxious-excited

open and green
where five letter words are more important than four.
Trust and heart, are given both with a nod
and that last grain of sand is lost with the rest.

We live fast dream big laugh endlessly but go slow,
Because I'm scared too.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009


I know I have something to say, I mean I need to put down something. I'm starting to feel mildly bored and stagnant again, but I shouldn't even. I saw four small robins next to the gravelly sidewalk, running in their odd quick movements between blades of grass. It's such a nice day, winter is finally allowing his icy fingers to relax their freezing hold, and rosy Spring is peeking her warmth in small corners of the Earth. I read a beautiful poem today that my professor wrote. It's incredible and inspiring and all about rooms. I want to write one about pages. Or hands.

I want to write something but right now this is complete stream of conscious.

I'm angry because I want to go do something, but I have work at 230, I still have to shower, and I want to exercise too. I need good hiking shoes. I need it to be 60 degrees and not 40. This time of in betweens and waiting is the worst for me. Waiting for warmth, waiting for school to end, waiting for summer, waiting for responses, waiting for time, waiting to go to work, to then just wait some more. Wait Wait Wait. I'm bored. I wanna go. I guess, really, I'm the only one who can change that. Because it's just me here, typing away, alone in my house feeling restless. I can leave whenever I want, but where do I go? I hate time restrictions. I hate routine. I want to have the luxury to have my days hold nothing, a blank page everyday instead of resembling a planner or itinerary. Life is better lived unplanned.

Ok I'm going to go walk in Wompatuck, maybe I'll take my puppies. Or see if Paul would like to come. Even though I'm feeling very pensive and detached, surprisingly I don't really want to take this walk alone. I am actually starting to enjoy the company of others. I'll probably write more later on tonight, because though this helped, I still feel full and clouded. I'll be back.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

This felt great to write!

I woke up late for class again yesterday. The daylight savings change really isn't working for me.

When I snuck in, the class was dead silent, which never happens in Creative Writing. Usually we are yelling and laughing and scheming and it is easy to sneak in. But of course today, the day I'm way behind, the room is a vaccuum.

On the board is written one phrase "The emptiest word...". Dan tells me we are writing what comes to mind, then sharing. I look around and watch the girl to my far left write frantically. I watch a few stare blankly at the ceiling. Some shift their glances to others' papers, trying to get some ideas. I know what word is empty to me;

The emptiest word has only one name in our language
Overused, overexposed, doused and saturated.
Like a dirty sponge it is wrung out
and left dry and deflated.

Your tongue will snake out to form its sound
Your teeth will bite off the end of the little letters
Everyone should know better.

It can mean anything to anyone, and to the naive
who see stars and dreams
This piece of language fills them like molasses streams.
Sticky thoughts and slow grins, lips and fingertips.
It oozes and drips
Like poison through pinpricks.

Disappearing gray thin smoke through a window above
Is there only one word to mean love?

Yeah, brutal I know. I really enjoyed writing it though, and it got me thinking of other words. Like distance. What an empty word. I instantly think of a long blank stretch on a map, or the clear space between hands. Or worse yet, the distance between people. The word can mean emotional, physical or mental, and it envokes negative feelings. Incredible word, says so much but yet I can still find myself calling it empty.

When I went to Tommy and David's house later to get them off the bus, I realized how empty all words can truly be. Me and David got in a fight; he wouldn't share with his brother and was getting out of hand, and he really got to me. I had to take away his privilege of having a friend come over and he lost it.

"I hate you, you're the worst!" Nine year olds know just what to say...but deep down I knew he didnt mean that at all.

"Fine, David. If that is how you feel then we just can't do fun things anymore. No more games or going out to eat or anything like that. Now you need to sit upstairs and calm down for a bit" Again...I didnt even kind of mean that. I love these kids, I'd do anything with them, they're so fun.

After he stormed upstairs I went into the bathroom to wash my face, realizing I had started to cry at what a nine year old said to me. Hahaha after everything that doesn't make me cry over years and years, a nine year old can break me down in one minute...but I stood there looking at my watery little eyes in the mirror and the little blotches I get on my face when I get all worked up and I thought about words. I thought about my poem. I thought about the distance between me and that little kid; that an hour ago he would've told me anything, and now he was locked away behind a door and up the stairs probably wishing my hair would catch fire. In one sense, these words are so empty. We say things we do not mean to everyone everyday.

"Hi, how are you?"

"Good thanks!"

Sound familiar? Is everyone "good" everyday? God no. And do people asking really care how you are? Doubt it. Yet David's words, as empty and hollow as they were, sent me reeling. Not because he said them with any meaning, but because of the attachment behind it. Distance is relative and love can mean 83784389 different things, so I guess neither are empty unless you make them empty. And after this past week of little revelations I've been having through some pretty amazing people I have met, I think I am all done thinking things are so empty.

Rory took me to the beach the other morning and we watched the sun come up, and it was freezing but he waded in the water anyways. I stood there with terrible deja vu about something similar I did last summer and that was empty to me. But there wasn't emptiness here, I felt a little wary still but also, I felt like things were filling in a bit and that though we were the only ones on the beach, it wasn't all that empty. The sun was fire orange and the ocean was periwinkle blue, a color I'd never really seen in before. It was like a fresh start, a blank slate. Even "blank" slates aren't empty, you can put on them whatever you like.

Last night, Paul and I had a good conversation about our friends and how much fun we all have together. Even though we do nothing, our time spent is never empty. We fill it with jokes and laughter and dreams and music and plans for the summer. It's incredible now that I sit here and write this all down.

For a while, I have felt so hollow and empty. But these last 24 hours or so have showed me my life is brimming and full. It took quite the cast of characters to change my view, but its a complete 360. Summer's coming, changes will be imminent, but I'm ready. I know my future isn't empty, and it will be filled with lots of words.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

I remember...
dark green water and pale summer sun
fast silver slide you and I clung
to hot metal rungs.
Ice cream bells,
bikes, sticky fingers shy glances
swingsets in sand, brown cottages
the video store, beach dances.
Velvet moon, splintered dock

four shoes, don't drown!
jumping for the up
because you'll never be down.
See you around?

I recall...
wind in the cab and two door pickups,

fast driving fast music and fast food hiccups.
Giggling and soundtracks over

state line leaping, feelings seeping?
it was just sleeping
but wake up, up, I'm back up!
I missed you under the ice cream bell.

I reminisce...
different scene, different time, how much time since last?
Steel train, cold night, cement steps
Same moon.
Big city, country kid, with
Cigarettes, apartments, our frosted breath
cheap booze.
Summer's coming again,
See you soon!

But I can't forget...
a long drive, state line, and blindside.
Time has elapsed, but our years are on my mind.
Believe that I tried
phone calls and stars, basements,
beach walks and sunrise.
Dirt roads are for fourwheeling
And ice cream is for eating.
But I'll let mine melt on my hand and the sand
while you keep on swinging.
I'm singing,
but threes a crowd, and hugs are for
goodbyes and friends and trees.
Let go please

the drive is long so this can't be.

Even though it's sticky and melts away like morning dreams
I'm still fond of summer, bells, and ice cream.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Feliz Maria, que hora?

Get used to seeing some Spanish sprinkled into my blog posts, because I think Spain might be my big adventure this summer! At first, I was going to fly out on a one way ticket and figure out what to do from there but good ol' Matt K. said he could get me out there for free, and by boat.

Sailing across the Atlantic...for whaaaat??

I better calm down, I can't jinx it yet. Nothing is set in stone, but I am already feeling excitement. I wanna dock near Gibraltar, see Seville, jump to Portugal right quick, then breeze through Madrid. Honestly I hope this trip includes me stowing away on a freight train to France for a little while too, but i dont know how feasible that is nowadays.

Maybe I'll stay for a bit, get an under the table job, make some acquaintances, and just relax. Nothing like the promise of the Mediterranean sand and pink Spanish sunsets to ease the torturous restlessness in a gray and forest-green freeze.

I need some more sundresses. And endurance training, since most of this will be biking, HAH. Travelling dirt poor is the only way to go!

Secrets Make Friends!

you're not well, girl
he said
she stared at him shaking her head.
normal is what your thermometer read.

you're a shell, girl

he said
she picked the rose, cold and dead.

It's a path you can't tread.

but you're swell, girl

he said
she laughed a little, the fire is fed.
You talk too much...come to bed.

you're a well, girl
he tried
bottomless pit and vacant eyes,
falling down fast, what do you find?
she smirked
Blackness and size.

He sighs.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Seasonless Anectdotes Pepper My Days.

full and heavy
haven't eaten. today,
i'll watch you through
thick glass that catches sun
and burns ants.
You're my latest diamond in sand.
my dear restless soul,
release comes quick to those who drink
in sea grass winter coats salty ice locked bays.
Travelling alone is never a good idea
you'll always be a million miles away

not one step toward you i can give.

Maybe this blog will just be poetry tid bits.

I'm the cool clear water in summer
cupped tight in your dusty hands.
Give me time, I'll find my way
into the creases of your fingers and
down their smooth knuckles, weaving

in and out of trails of black hair,
down the summit of your arm.
I'll pool at your elbow, then

Drip drip...

into a free puddle!

Just a little muddier.

Inhaling slow this
moment and watch ghosts dance,
Exhale nostalgia.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

I'll vent, and see if this helps.

Well, I always swore I'd never make one of these shitty things, but after last night I felt like I needed to write. Microsoft Word wasn't cutting it, because it just reminds me of school, so formal and white and bland. And God knows I was way too lazy to grab my journal and jot down a few things. So here I am, blogging, about my life, seeing if anyone else gives a damn, because I really don't atm.
Hopefully my posts won't be all negative and sullen like this one is turning out to be. I'm not always negative and sullen, I have my sunny moments. I just realized I lost my purse at school today, cool huh? I checked in with campus police and they hadn't heard anything yet, and I really dont want to cancel my card yet, so I'm going to give it an hour and go back. The police officer was really nice, and could tell I was getting nervous about not finding it. Literally, it was alone for like...ten minutes. He told me stories about kids turning in wallets with hundreds of dollars of cash still inside, etc etc. It helped to hear, but all I could think was for every lost thing turned in, three more probably never find their way back. Of course I'd think like that. What the hell.

I can't really get into this blog, I just wanted to unload some of these hazy thoughts and gray feelings. Bleh.

Rt. 123 East's Best Kept Secret

It's something about today
when the light hit the metal frame.
That the dashboard gave way
to the steering wheel specked with clay.
Timeless as a new day,
promises of great getaways.
Can we make it if we stay?
Catch your last haunted train,
bubbles bursting down a drain.
A candle will flicker out its flame,
I'm sorry it can't be tamed,
evaporating like summer rain.
It'll never be the same,
but I've got everything to gain.
Don't make it just a game,
they're just pictures without frames!
Don't make it another game,
guessing facts or remembering names.
I can't play anymore games.
I don't like to lose.