Monday, May 31, 2010

Well hello there puppy.

Don't you look so excited to see me.
Yesyoudo! *scratch, scratch*

Holy cow, calm down.
DoWn, fido.
*edges away*

*moment of sadness*

Ugh, you are kinda cute.
*approaches again*
:| Ew, stop licking me.
Your breath steeenks, son-


[The reason I appreciate that cats only half-heartedly greet owner upon return, if anything]

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Birds are peculiar little things.

I visited a nursing home the other day
and they had a few glass cages
filled with little birdies.

Yellow ones, black ones, brown ones.

One black one had some biiiig tail feathers.
It made me think:
Hey, someday I could have my own bird(s).
I would train them to sit on my finger.
On my shoulder (pirate day).

I could give them impressive names like

Alexander the Great
Or maybe even Bobert. (What a cute bird name, right?)

Then I remembered that birds poop in their cages that thenceforth must be cleaned by their owner, a.k.a. "me."

So as far as getting some of my own-
I may need some more convincing.

...I think I'm gonna go tweet about this.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Though some designers may disagree

there is such a thing as too many pillows.

I have been in many a house where I feel uncomfortable to sit on a couch for fear of messing up the pillow arrangement.

I don't want to move it.
And I certainly don't want to smoosh it.

Same with beds.
Why should I have to "undress" a bed
to be able to use it?

What is with all the superfluous pillows, people?

extra work. extra money. not needed. pads your ego.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

I'm not much

of a phone talker.

I am all too good at awkward pauses
and I try to end conversations too early
and I interrupt and am interrupted far too frequently.

I like to have time to hear the information and process it
so I can respond with the words I truly mean.
I like to think it out and write it down.

Hence why I am a textaholic.

Ah well.
In the future, I know phone conversations with old college friends must happen

but hey, maybe Skype will be way popular by then.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

The time I hold in my hand right now

is so very strange.
It's electric. It beats.
It's dying, it's living;
it's free and it's constricted and
it's terrified.

I miss home. I miss my family.
But I don't want to miss a beat with my friends now.
Soon they'll be done here
and our time will never be the same.

I wish it would slow down.
Though the deep pain, the sorrow of what's to come, would last longer
the sweet moments could be even more savored.

My heart aches daily.
Little reminders of what's to be.
Reminders that I can't stop it.
I want it to slow down.
I want it to reverse.

I want all these things that soak my heart.
These people, these times that have enriched my being, through and through.
They are me and I am them. There is something we know of each other that is flawless,
effortless, invisible, and evident.
We are tied together.

We mustn't let the ties be snipped.
They may loosen, but to snip would have me fall apart.
Oh, my heart...stay with me.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Dear Twin,

I've never really experienced a difficult goodbye.
I knew I'd see others again, have plenty of time with them. Have similar experiences again.

I feel like this is different;
I beg it not to be.

You are different.
I feel like, even though we were not always hanging out, we knew each other's hearts.
A simple sentence could catch you up on my life and I on yours.
So simple. So easy. So therapeutic.
You just knew. You have a beautiful gift that God has blessed you with.
And I will miss it.
And I will miss you.
I cried before and I cry again.
You mean a lot to me- you just being you.
Words can't express how we are.

So I'll beat-box it out. I'll pick it up and put it down. I'll "Make awkward sexual advances, not war." I'll share a large strawberry smoothie. I'll make facebook videos of the randomness. I'll confuse some freshman during sand volleyball. I'll "be outie." I'll start to pick up on your laugh. I'll share the dishwashing duties with one hand behind my back. I'll sleep in a cardboard box in a basement. I'll be the Satan to your Jesus. I'll sneak some awkward minnow. I'll ask for 8 kids and pout about the papers. And I'll hold your hand, and I'll know that it's OK.

I hope to see you and your beautiful heart again-
more in my life.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

What has been said:

and then I feel bad.

What is wrong with this picture?
I always end up feeling like the one to blame, and the words weren't even mine.

How does this happen?

Why do I run myself in circles?

I need to give myself a break.
Take a stand for who I am.
This world of mine has basically become yours
and I need to figure out how to right it again- without losing you.

Loved and smothered.
Needed, but running.

Who is watching out for me?

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Though I have tried again and again

I cannot bring myself to like coffee.
And truly, I also do not wish to like it.

The only thing I find bearable is a french vanilla cappuccino....and I hear that's the baby stuff.

It just boggles my mind how many people are addicted to coffee:

They need it to wake up.
They need it to function throughout the day.
They get headaches or feel antsy without it.
I'm talking more than, I don't know, 3 a day.

And I $4 cup of coffee from Starbucks? I hear that's not even the best stuff out there.

Sure, many may think you look cool while you're ordering your tall non-fat something-or-other,
in your store that sells expensive mugs and koozies,
where people snuggle up in corners and pretend to write books on their laptops
while wearing their trendy shoes and stylish earth-tone scarves,
glancing through their thick-rimmed "nonconforming" glasses at the people around them
but being too cool to actually start a conversation,

but I think you look ridiculous.
You could be doing something better with your money or buying something less "substance abusey."

Man, I want a Red Bull.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Death has never really scared me.

Dying painfully? Yes- but being gone? No.
I look at the world as being a whole bunch of people in this moment. Eventually everyone that I know will be gone. And people will forget me- and that's OK.
I don't feel the need to leave behind something completely epic with my name plastered all over it, because you know what?:

I will just be a name.

But I'm here now and I want to spread my love and who I am to all that will accept it.

As far as having someone close to me die: it is always sad, but I've never lost myself in it.
There has always been a hope inside of me, a hope that continually whispers:

this is not the end.

I will someday meet my Grandfather and Step-Grandfather who I never met.
I will see my grandmother (licorice) who died of a rare cancer when I was 9.
I will see my grandmother (smiley) who died of Alzheimer's just a couple years back.
I will see the friend who died in the motorcycle accident.
The neighbor who was shot.
The church member who ended it himself.
The girl I've never met, but who I feel like I know her by her memory through her friend.
The neighbor who was slowly taken by the returning cancer.

Of the very few things I regret, I regret missing the funeral of my neighbor.
She was like another mother to me; but I was at school and the distance to the funeral was too far. I heard about how lovely the funeral was and all I could do was cry. I just wanted the chance to say goodbye- to see and realize that she wasn't physically here anymore. But God is holy and mighty, and has shown that she is well and in Heaven; Oh, His great gifts!

I have hope. I have a loving hope inside my heart that does not come from myself.
I need not fear, for the Lord is with me all the days of my life. (After that, I'll be chillin' with Him. Can I get a 'woop woop!')

Thursday, May 6, 2010

I am more sensitive

than most people realize.

I can take things to heart, too often.

Sometimes it takes me saying the hurt out loud, but it dwells deep beneath the surface, and it is stronger than I can sense.

I care; I do.
These tears will show you.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

In kindred spirits, I find those who

"There must be a strong sense of adventure in which 'we look directly and unflinchingly at our every weakness and flaw, straight down through layer after layer of cowardice and self-deception to the very heart of our intentionality...[and] even more terrifying: our beauty and magnificence, our potential to love and create and feel deeply.'"

Sunday, May 2, 2010

I am lucky today

1. that all of my toes are still intact
2. that my feet are not sliced or punctured
3. that my blood was not sucked out
4. that I was not shot
5. that I was not attacked
6. that I am only slightly burnt.

I went creek-stomping with a friend today.
We went on a bike ride and found a bridge with a beautiful view.
We slid down underneath and climbed around.
We eventually took our shoes off and waded in the water for a good stretch.
I felt earthy. I felt mother nature run through my veins; it doesn't make sense unless you've been there, unless you've felt it.

So we had a genuine afternoon adventure.
And an adventure is not complete unless there is a bit of danger:

1. Snapping turtles.
2. Broken glass.
3. Tiny leeches.
4. I began singing and whistling when I heard other humans, for I feared they may think we were wildlife and shoot us.
5. We saw "big dog" paw prints.
6. I put sunscreen on my face, but I wanted color on my arms and legs. I am only slightly lobsteresque at this point.

But don't worry Mom,
nature camp prepared me.
And growing up in the country made it even better for reminiscence.

This adventure made a most quality Sunday afternoon, I must say.

Now to take our tiny treasures and guess at their origins...
.baby food bottle. jawbone. sole of an old children's shoe. tile-lookin button thinger.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Why are there days

when I feel like I cannot make decisions?
I feel I can't trust myself.

I worry too much of what others think,
so then I go to the other extreme and take hold of my life and live for myself. I take of a stance of sheer disobedience to my truly caring heart.

I feel selfish.

And it continues to spiral downward.

Then, I just don't do anything.
As if I think standing still will keep me from hurting anyone else or myself.
And the spiral continues on...

until I find God again. And He fills me up.
My heart is longing. Where has He gone?

I miss my Love.
I miss my true heart.