oneword: gloss

my sticky sweet shield leaves traces of myself behind on all of my mistakes. i wonder if they ever think about me.

oneword: after

tell me what is supposed to happen next. what comes after the christmas fall-out, when everyone packs up and heads home? when the lights and trees come down? when the day i feel most at peace with myself and my family is over? what happens when all i have left are questions? no answers. and no one to ask.

wordcount #7: that

That is not fair.  That can't be true.  That will never happen.  That does not affect me.  That does not matter.  That was not my fault.  That is them.  That is other.  That is excuses.  That is coward.  That is what surrounds us.  That is epidemic.  We need to shift that.  From other to us, from them to we, from no, we can't to yes, we can!  

Only then will this change, that we so desperately seek, occur.

oneword: solstice

A time to celebrate the changing of the guard. The shift of season. The coming of the new. I take solace in knowing that the solstice exists. Year after year, regardless of the tears or the cheers, it arrives. Pure and whole, the sun pauses. Its power smolders, its importance emanates, it radiates, but it pauses still. Twice a year, at the very least, we should pause too. On the shortest day or the longest day, we should pause and consider the sacredness of our existence. We exist because the sun exists, because there is a light so bright and so warm and so beautiful that we can do nothing else but exist. Despite our doubts and our fears and our dark tendencies, the light resonates so brightly and so truly. The solstice speaks, and it says, "Just be. Be good. Be free."

oneword: sigh

that barely audible exhale. a spurt of hot air leaving a body that just wants to give up. i wonder if you know that i can hear you sigh. i can feel you falling away, the sand of your essence sliding between my fingers as if this was all so damn inevitable. gravity was always meant to reclaim you and pull you down from the height you'd flown to. your wings, they melted away, burned by the heat of the life you tried to escape. and now, left to your own devices, you've become an apathetic mass. i can't help but feel like i should have done more for you.

Oneword: Course

The course of the river is determined by the land it finds to flow through. Over hundreds of years it searches, feels and then defines it's own path. Creates it's own life.

It does all this by nature, by instinct, by the path of least resistance.

Shouldn't we do the same?

Oneword: Dock

sitting on the dock of the bay..sounds so simple, but as it is probably wet and surrounded by busy burley seamen, would it really be so simple. The'd be slippage, knockage and probably a little argy bargy... give me under the boardwalk any day.

Nobody

Ever says 

Good

 b

  Y

  e

or is it I 

fail to hear

Maybe the simple gesture

is 

lost in the 

whisper

Could it

possibly be that I 

g

o

t lost in myself

Or was it just me 

that SAID good bye

oneword: mellow

yeah. the apathy. it's getting old. like a calm snake, winding its way from my heart to these limbs that would rather sit and wait...and wait....

i need to be woken up. even monday's pain has dulled into a barely perceptible ache in the back of my head. all it does is remind me that i'm not feeling enough. not living enough. not doing much of anything. nothing of consequence, at least.

oneword: hover

i hate it when you hover. i am not exagerating, i HATE it when you hover. staring over my shoulder watching my every move. i don't need a mother thank you. i already have one and she may not have done a great job, but i definitely do not need another. yes, i have my keys, my wallet and my phone. i am a 27 year old woman. i had already made it to 25 fairly well on my own thank you, and i can take care of myself.

oneword: hover

we hover. points of light frozen in time. points of the universal consciousness embodied. from the moment we congeal, become substance, we are longing to rejoin the cosmic flow.



ghost

oneword: aware

these days, unfortunately, i am all to aware of what it missing in my life. the incredible void that makes me daydream all day and lay wide awake at night. i am wishing that i was one of those incredible people that is thankful for what they do have this time of year, but unfortunately, i am just not there this year. i know it could always be worse, but sadly, i also know it could be a lot better and i want that more than anything in the world these days.

Oneword: Aware

Before reading please be aware a rash of normality broke out when I wrote this. Apologies?


"Aware of the fare" is not a phrase as often employed as it could be. Buses, trains and planes could all use this yet to be discovered marketing gem. "Please Sir & Madam be Aware of the Fare"

oneword: aware

this desire to feel more than cold bedsheets beneath my fingertips has overtaken me. it is not the touch of skin i want, i'm not looking for an easy lay...or any lay for that matter. i want to feel the heat that comes from being recognized, acknowledged, and understood. such a shame when the warmth from my family is a fire that i have to beat back and run away from.

and as i age, i am becoming more and more aware of the fact that i am not enough, will never be enough, to them. sometimes, at my worst, i find myself actually accepting the idea that i am not enough to anyone, not even myself.

oneword: held

my house is a scary place to be at night, all alone. nothing but the sound of tapping keys and the fan on my laptop. i guess i can hear my heart too, especially when i think about what a shock i've had this month. i don't want to keep running in the same patterns, seeing the same people, doing the same things. i want growth and change and on nights like these, it all seems so...so possible. i don't want to be held back by my own need for comfort.

i need new excitement. the quick heart beat, the nerves, even the trembling. anything to jump start this stagnated existence. anything to remind me that i can still walk in all directions.

oneword: suspend

hanging here in the uncertanty that is my life at the moment.
after months and months of it, i just can't handle it anymore.
nothing is moving, nothing is changing, except my stress level is growing.
i am not growing from this, and this is not a helpful experience.
i do not need a reminder that my family is just not there for me when i need them.
i do not need to wonder how i am going to pay my bills, again.
i keep revisiting this place. no matter how i manage to crawl out.
i always seem to fall right back into this blackhole.
i am stuck in this place where i do not seem to know anything about my life.
i certainly do not remember why i did it in the first place.

oneword: suspend

emptyfullwhitenoisemadness.

my headspace.

hanging here, floating here, waiting here for the eye of the storm.

planning here, plotting here, preparing here for the real storm to arrive.

my headspace.

will be ready when she finally arrives.

my headspace.

will make a katrina a masterpiece.

oneword: held

When my what-ifs and maybes and why-me's start suffocating me, choking me, my needs are simple. When I take an oozie to my foot and blow a hole in it I'm not sure I can mend, my needs are simple. When the world I made for myself whips me upsidedown and flips my reality insideout, my needs are simple. When my sanity explodes in my face, all I need is one thing.

To be held by you.

I hope my eyes show you these things, because I haven't figured out yet how to say them out loud.

Oneword: Suspend

..See
yoU
..Staring
..Pointedly,
..Ever
..Not
..Doubting


Envious

wordcount #9 & #10: is & was

forgive me, please. the vanity that oozes from this stream of consciousness might ruin your shoes.

present tense. less tense, actually. at least in regards to that thump thump. the here, the now... it pokes what was in the eye... and almost laughs while the past bleeds down the front of my shirt.

categorically speaking, i am much less of an idiot now. still an idiot, for sure... but not as urgently so.

the back then still stings, though. knocks me on my ass with how the pain can still feel like new. and yet it's strange; sort of comfortable. like visiting home even though you know living there again would kill you.

there are reflections of the past in the present. and questions about the present in the future. but the questions are just that - QUESTIONS - not fear. i trust the present to be what it is. and that is something the past could never give me.

one thing is for certain: i do not miss that fake, painful smile.

oneword: suspend

disbelief.

the walls wax logistical and close in on me, sitting here squished with all of these hopes and dreams.

no one seems to follow through, it seems. not even me, unless you base your results on in con sisten cy.

the calendar hangs time in pretty little cubes. and one by one, these boxes ensue. blocked out. fucked up. gone.

do we write things down just to make sure something is left behind?

oneword: suspend

if i could suspend time, it would be at these moments. i give myself up to you all in one-minute increments. the flow, the only true thing that seems to come out of my fingertips anymore. this is more than hitting keys. this is more than sharing. this is more than exposure. THIS may be one of the few things that i continue to care about, even if i don't always the time to do it.

i guess in an off-handed way, this is my thanks. to you. to us. to this website. just for being here.

oneword: cow

What a simple life she lives: up with the sunrise, feeling the cool moisture of possibility mist across her face, knowing she only has contentment ahead. Day after day. She is certain her life is her own. Day after day. A nice man brings her food, and she has fields upon fields of luscious green at her feet. Day after day. Everything is the same. It is normal.

Until one day. The rules change. No one consulted her. They just decided it was time for her time to end. And that was it. It turns out, day after day, her life was not her own.

Somebody else's selfish desire dictated her destiny.

ONEWORD: Startled

He jumped down my throat, and I jumped out of my skin. What did he want to do that for? Why would he try to scare me like that? I love him, and all he did was try to hurt me. Couldn't he have just lightly caressed my skin instead?

startled

startled. throttled. bottled.

supressed emotions bubble to the surface, startling me, shaking me. i wasn't even aware of them. i think that's what bothers me the most.

it makes me wonder...



what else is in there.


ghost

oneword: startled

i was startled this morning when i found out my g/f hit the power button to restart our computer that was in hibernate mode, and that completely effed the computer up. I may have also been startled when my cat busted my favorite coffee mug and almost ruined the other computer (thankfully the coffee missed and hit the ugly new bedskirt. its possible that i was startled to find my phone ringing with a call from my boss saying that i probably don't have a job anymore. or its possible that I sat down, opened a beer and freaked out all over the place. talk about a bad day.

gentle

the melody pulled me in then set me free, like the tide. over and over. ever so gentle the notes pushed and pulled and turned and guided my soul

oneword: gentle

gently, it rips you apart and keeps you awake. did you mess up somewhere along the way? did you forget something? where did you put whatever it might be? can you describe what it is that went missing? no, and it drives you to the brink of insanity. you can't describe it, but you feel it...missing...every morning when you wake up there's hole. it's all you can think about it, and you are falling through it, expecting the hard collision with the ground that is reality, but you keep floating, gently, noticing what's missing.

sigh...

sometimes I wonder where it went, or if it was here in the first place.

oneword: gentle

Gently, he stroked her hair, pulling back the pieces that had fallen over her blue eyes. She was ashamed to look him in the face, as if his gaze would break her. She was too delicate for this. Afraid, even. Scared that his love was too powerful, too overwhelming. His touch, though, triggered something inside her that made her feel as if nobody else would ever matter to him as much as she. It could have been hope. It could of been anything. But anything is better than the emptiness to which she had grown accustomed.

Someday, I'm hoping, she...will be me.

wordcount #8:it

that thing, the one thing. you can't describe it. you can only tell when its there, or when you are longing for it, waiting for it, wanting it so badly you think you just might actually burst from it. that it. you know the one.

oneword: path

What is it exactly that makes us choose one path over another? You are standing there at the fork in the road, and you choose. Then, you look back and think to yourself, why didn't I go down the other path? Where would I be now if I had? Would I be a happier individual? Or am I happier now? The answer to that one, I fear I will never truly know. It would have been impossible to go down that other path, or it could have been the best moment of my life. It was just a heartbeat away, I needed to reach out and grab my moment, but I didn't. The worst part about wondering is that you wonder if you will ever have the same opportunity again to reach out and grab your moment.

sigh.

wordcount #8: it

it is because when people ask me "if you had to only choose ONE of the things you are interested in to do every day," my answer is always the same. it is always "i can't imagine going a day without voluntarily examining human behavior and interactions." namely, analyzing myself and the people in my life; why we do things, where our feelings and actions lead us, how our relationships work, and what it all means on a higher, collective level.

it is always there. the only thing in me that never fades.

oneword: path

"i can teleport," i told them.

it's really the only way to explain how i am covering so much ground in so many different areas... seemingly simultaniously.

one of my bosses actually called me bohemian yesterday - without any tongue in cheek action at all. genuine.

... it may have been the best compliment of my life.

Wiki defines bohemianism:

"The term bohemian, of French origin, was first used in the English language in the nineteenth century to describe the untraditional lifestyles of marginalized and impoverished artists, writers, musicians, and actors in major European cities.

Bohemians were associated with unorthodox or antiestablishment political or social viewpoints, which were often expressed through non-marital sexual relations, frugality, and/or voluntary poverty."

hrmmmmmn.

path

the path of my deprivation leads from the point at witch I died inside and leads to the point where my vapid heart lies.

...

ha, ha. There's that lie/lay thing again. Maybe I got it right this time.

oneword: bulb

I'll let you in on a secret. It wasn't the onions that were making me cry over the stove the other night.

I just want to know why everything you actually mean to say has to stay hidden. Why I have to uproot a smile when we both know it's still going to be covered in dirt.

Where the hell are all the real people, with the real compliments, the real hugs, the real laughs? And why the hell can't I practice what I preach?

oneword: bulb

the light goes on, flick. an idea pops in, go, go, go. the flower gets planted. Wait. It'll grow. It'll go. Slow down and watch it. It'll come, I promise.

Oneword: Bulb

When I saw that the word for today was 'bulb,' I laughed.

I've been laughing a lot more lately, which is because I've been doing more things for myself. If I want sushi for dinner, then it will be on my plate. If I want to make iced coffee, then I will get everything set up at 2 am in the morning and hope there won't be any grains in my coffee the next morning. If I want to take dancing lessons, I will go every Sunday night even if I need to be up at 5:30 a.m. the next morning. If I want to say no, I will say no. If I want to run in a 5K, I will. If I want to have people over to watch The Office, I will have them over and we'll divulge on various unhealthy foods over random late-night chats WHILE watching my favorite show.

And all of this happened.

It's been all about me, and I'm pampering myself, but really...this is how it should have been from the very beginning. A bulb turned on a couple of weeks ago.

crown

upon the shelf, a dusty crown lay. Nobility shunned and discarded for with nobility came responsibility and duty... both binding substances

...

right quick, help a blogbrother out. Is it "lay" or "lie"... I suck with those two.

oneword: crown

a sign of kings, queens, and beauty pagent winnners....

OR...

one half of the biggest dental expense that one might ever have to pay for. without insurance, its even worse. stupid root canals. i am still paying off my crown because of the magical words...charge that please.

oneword: flight

with as many words as flight can be associated with, my brain rests on one...escape. running like the coward I feel like inside. i am ashamed of myself for having the thought, but tried and true, I am still here. i sometimes question if its because i want to be here, or if its the right thing, or if this is the right place for me. do i stay because i am afraid to leave, to be alone again? i can honestly say that is not the reason. i enjoy being alone. at night its a little hard sometimes, but other than that small amount of time, being alone is not scary at all for me.

part of me wants for my brain to settle on a different vision of the word. like freedom. similar to the wild mustangs, running wild and unbroken, running wherever they feel like because they can. but deep down, i know that is just not me.

wordcount #3- and

(shut up, i know i'm behind on these...!)

the beating of my heart matches the cadence of my baser instincts,
marching
ever closer
to some point when
i will give in and do something i regret.
mypausesseembreathless,
and my musings a little s cat tered,
but the one thing i do know,
is that i better not color in the lines anymore.

so i'll take my desires as they come,
because i'm trying to live my life with a little less structure,
and a little more ahhhh.

oneword: flight

i am afraid of things that i've never done. i feel like something big is missing, and if i could just put my finger on it, maybe i could set aside this overwhelming whirlwind of worry that keeps me up at night and makes me feel like no matter what do, i'm still the same old closeted failure. i want to be something more than what i am, but have no clue how to go about doing it.

oneword: flight

not my nature, no... to just take off. i'm not really good at sarcasm, either. i am ready to go at any moment. even i can't plan it. something inside me shakes and if i don't follow the rhythm, my words don't rhyme anymore...

wordcount #6: in

Inside...

Lives eternity--trapped, contained, restrained within the limits of human form.

In-between...

Endless love and frustrated humanity--lives people like me.

Indefinite...

I plow forward the only way I know how. Let's hope it all works out in the end.

oneword: flight

Wind whips through my hair. The road opens up before me. The questions, uncertainties, and difficulties grow smaller and smaller in the rearview.

Dave Matthews' "Where Are You Going?" comes on my radio.

I snap off the dial and kindly tell him to "Shut the hell up."

oneword: hill

as you stand at the bottom of this steep hill, you realize you are afraid. are you afraid of the steep hill, or is the steep hill your fear? is it the thing that is blocking you from where you want to be? are your hopes and dreams on the other side of the hill, or are they the hill? what are you so afraid of? failing, succeeding, or are you afraid that once you get what you want, by the time you get there, that you won't want it anymore because the journey there changed who you are forever? to be honest i am not sure what keeps me from taking he journey up the hill sometimes. maybe its sheer exhaustion from avoiding it.

hill

There's that hill again, I swear it's following me around. I mean, I walk up the damn thing. Then I slowly back away from it, and then I turn around and -boom- there it is again. Must be a ninja hill.

wordcount #7: that

restrictive though, these clauses may be, they point out that which belongs to you and that which was stolen by me. a thought that makes the wheels spin and juices drip, rich and thick honey stick goop that bulk packaging divided with each uneven scoop. fairness is not really the issue here, because giving and taking is a constant push pull and those who never demand this, that, or anything may be better off without wondering. the invitation looms overhead and whispers haunted nothings because no words are actually said.

FreeRice: an explanation

FreeRice is a kick ass website that donates rice to feed the hungry... as you play a word game!

A simple, effective, and seemingly productive way to help me prepare for the GRE's... and get some new word fodder for our little collection here.

So if oneword is turning tricks a little too slowly for your liking, feel free to challenge us with some of your FreeRice words... or any word, really, that comes to mind.

oneword: hill

roll me down these curves covered in stainless steel blades on parade; slicing my skin with every inch traveled in and over and through a lot more than any of us would like to admit. i am reminded that if you never reach the top, you don't get the view. but right now i have no use for climbing anything other than the trees i planted in my dreams some time ago, having ignored them in lieu of shiny, pretty things that tempted me with a love that may not really exist.

oneword: hill

"I bet you've never had to fight for anything in your entire life. I bet everything comes so easily to you. I bet you can turn mountains into mole-hills just by walking towards them."

This facade, this strong I-can-do-this-because-I'm-just-me front? Yeah. It's bullshit. I am getting too good at it.

So stop looking down at me when I fall. Stop telling me I'll get through it because of "who I am." You know nothing about me, and I'm not sure you can handle all of my secrets.

I've been abused, kicked around, cheated on, screwed over, and talked about more than I will ever let the world see.

oneword: hill

The air is crispy clean and the leaves are starting to bleed from their branches. I wrap my wool sweater tight around my body, trapping the heat from within, preparing for the windy chill to come. Step by step, I make my way upwards, feeling a healthy burn, a steady pulse, flow through my thighs.

A figure awaits, darkened by the backlit twilight sky. It lingers in obscurity. And I'm not sure whether to keep going forward or to turn and run away.

At the top of the hill, there is a figure. There is a shadow and a question. At the top of the hill, which is ever so close now, awaits a decision. Shifty and unpredictible.

But as nervous as I am, I keep stepping. I keep climbing. I am anxious and excited. I am nervous and confident. I am all sorts of mixed-up and clear all rolled into that wool sweater.

Something is waiting there. At the top of the hill.

oneword: evidence

I find these truths to be self-evident:

Death is not the end; it is just the beginning.

It is useless to squabble over spilled milk. Or hurt feelings.

It is even more useless to place the blame somewhere else and try to convince yourself that you are a victim.

Love is all you need.

Amongst madness you can find clarity and hope.

Rain is beautiful, if you take the time to notice.

The most evident thing of all: you don't need evidence to believe, to know that something is true, to have unshakeable faith that something is more right than anything has been before it.

oneword: evidence

proof of purchase. of importance. of truth. proof that we just can't seem to move fast enough. to breathe deep enough. to just spin in unison. it's really that things so rarely line up... when they do we don't believe it anyway.

wordcount #6: in

i find myself spinning... AGAIN. that tornado in between like and love. carry me up, out and all around my bloated insecurities, full of lust and fear and the way my hormones shake when yours are near. this is not the first time i have been here and it makes me question if this is not as good, just as good, better or just different. my insides tell me that it's a little bit of all of that and honestly, that is way more complicated than i am really prepared to deal with right now. so my body is following my mind down the rabbit hole. let's just run away and hope all of this clears itself up on it's own.

:sticks head in sand:

by accident

inspired by today's oneword: feathered

her outfits always match
the weather

her hair is always up
and feathered

she carries
her heart
in her jeans'
back left pocket

and sometimes,
by accident
it gets squished
when she sits on it

* originally written 9/12/03

oneword: feathered

swift flight; soft goodbyes. they escape quickly out of the corners of my mouth as i smile away all of the coquetries that danced between our lips and jumped cannonballs off our finger tips. plunge deep, dark -- into pools of liquefied sugar cubes; hot, buttered, melted fools feel like they sprout wings (amongst other things).

wordcount # 5: a

signifying the singular. one. a solitude necessary in proving this point of he + she = we, but still seperate in mind even when legs are intertwined. a bonding of the soul may not actually exist, but a mere recognition in a bigger, united, collective insists that our journey can be shared, but is never the same.

oneword: proud

I am starting to listen more than I talk. This is mostly and more importantly true with myself. I am starting to hear that little voice inside loud and clear. And she is starting to show me the way to that intangible place called happiness. I am starting to let that pigheaded pride trickle away, or at least diminish into the background, and I am really starting to see the pieces of me I can be proud of.

oneword: proud

no, no. this negativity i am not proud of. this doubt and speculation. i am ruining this. i am desperately searching for a reason not to like him more than he likes me. for a reason to stay in control. to not be so fucking vulnerable. i am terrified of getting hurt again. but this time... this time if it doesn't work... i will actually lose a good man.

oneword: proud

Too proud to accept that I have been beaten, I will trudge through the shattered dreams and numerous disappointments with my head down, eyes averted. Looking up would force me to see the reality. That life seems to have lost a bit of its luster. I can create my own world by keeping my head to the ground.

oneword: wildflower

There is something rugged about you. Hardy. While the world boxes itself into concrete fortresses, you seem to fight back against the paved walls, screaming in color.

I am still here. I am still alive. I am still blooming.

And I will fight.

oneword: wildflower

Masses of these multi-colored miracles rock and sway in the Indian Summer breeze. The humidity that choked them for so long, smothering their petals with disillusionment and disdain, is beginning to thin. Dissipating into the beautiful brutal truth of fall. As the air molecules spread apart, their life lines are freed, their breath is released. Their tension takes off, stemming an oxymoronical rebirth at the prewritten end. The cold winds are coming in, and soon the trees' multi-colored miracles too will be stripped from their branches, leaving empty, honest space.

And in this space we'll find the truest miracle of all: a soul writing its newest beginning's fall.

oneword: wildflower

they seem to grow in abundance around here. i am somehow -- simultaneously, gratefully, inspired and divinely jealous; breathing in the stink of their petals, some flawed, yet all imperfectly, beautifully breathtaking. this little garden cultivated in my heart and printed on the pages of the diary at the back of my mind; the soil is moist and dark and our roots tickle each other. We struggle to grow, ache to bloom, and let the bumble bees share our nectar as they buzz from blog to blog.

oneword: brick

a wall that was once torn down. brick by brick it has gone back up. i remember why it was there, and i remember why and how it came down. i didn't realize it was back, or maybe i chose to ignore it slowly creeping back up. i can say that tearing it down is a heck of a lot happier than the process of it being rebuilt. now i am trapped with myself again, and everyone is once again at a comfortable arm's length away. it went back up a lot faster than it came down.

wordcount #5: a

A woman. A sister. A daughter. A grand-daughter. A cousin. A "mama" to anyone who needs mothering. A caretaker. A stand-in sister for some. A Miss Tina for years. A T, Tbina, G, or Tiner to many. A sweetness to one. A cutie to another. A dancer. A teacher. A friend. A listener. A laugher. A discusser of the here-after. A choreographer. A coordinator. A writer. A creator. A doer. A compromiser. A fighter. A debater. A tentative lover. A challenge and a challenger. A thinker. A reader. A non-meat eater. A meditator. A dog lover. A fun lover. A cat lover, too. An imaginer. A questioner. A dreamer. A traveler. A supporter. A volunteer. A hat wearer. A hair changer. A funky shoe wearer. A wannabe guitar player. A little girl in a big girl's body trying to be all that I can be, but really just a best version of me.

oneword: brick

A thick, tall, impenetrable wall has been built up around me, brick by brick, disappointment by disappointment. Or is it, illusion by delusion? Either way, it has weathered many a storm. It has protected me from harm, while keeping me safely in a void of independence.

Or is it loneliness?

It stands there still, but so do you. Looking patiently, intently toward the other side, biding your time before you attempt the climb.

oneword: brick

And so we keep building.

But what, exactly? Why do we keep coming back to this same tired dance?

Why do I continue to play, when I know that a few weeks from now, you'll want nothing to do with me again?

Why do I hang on to this sick, twisted hope that you want to do more than hook-up, BE more than a late-night phone call?

The chemistry is still there. Definitely. But, Mr. October, am I strong enough to resist it?

oneword: throw

I want to throw out all of the silly little notions I've learned. Toss them clear out a 3rd story window. Sometimes those notions throw me into a tizzy and I escalate so fast that few know what to do. And then someone or something reminds me that this too shall pass. This too is not worth throwing everything into flux. So I will change my approach. I will reevaluate the way I evaluate the world. I will put myself in check. Because, as it turns out, I am not superficial. But I am emotional. I am sensitive.

And sometimes that pushes me off center.

I am grateful for the people in my life who provide the solid ground I often struggle to find, the people who tell me like it is, in such clear and certain terms that I wonder why I couldn't see it before. Those people are the ones I want to throw all of my energy towards. They help me first to find and see myself, and then they help me reveal that to the world.

I don't know what I would do without them.

wanting

have you ever tried to imagine heaven? i've always heard that the eye has not seen and the ear has not heard the glory in God's word. still, i remember listening to the descriptions of heaven from many a preacher. they talked of streets paved of gold, of buildings built of rubies and emeralds. in my young mind, i thought of hollywood and the taj mahal. later, my version of heaven had purple oceans washing up on grey beaches, with big black skelatol trees and black skies, and big square buildings. i wanted structure and plans and concrete. always concrete.

more recently, i realized my vision of heaven had at some point shifted and then changed completely. now when i think of heaven i think of a rainy day and the wind in my face. that's today. tomorrow i'm sure i'll imagine something else. maybe structure, again. i don't know.

i remember my father saying to me once that he imagined heaven would be alot of sitting around doing nothing and that that didn't appeal to him at all. it's hard enough to stick with the discipline of our faith without not being over joyed at our misconception of the reward. i think i've had the same problem. sometimes i imagine that the believers will all be there, like some big social gathering. and that doesn't appeal to me at all. anyone who knows me can tell you social gatherings start wearing on my nerves after about half an hour and then i start seeking to be my namesake. a ghost.

i suppose what i truly want is flexibility and i want heaven to change with me, according to what i want. wait, that's not true either. what i really want is to be alive. i want life, bright, pulsing, and absorbing me. i don't truly want what i want. i never have. i don't want concrete buildings or wind in my face. i want busy freeways and i want abandoned roads. i want confrontation and a certain amount of strife. i want strangers and lovers and people i will never meet passing by. i want to teach and to learn and to hate and to feel. i want to feel.

heaven according to all i've been told by all those preachers over all these years could never be like that. heaven could never imitate real life. as tired as i get, i, deep down inside, and you, deep down inside in those places you don't really wanna look, like the struggle to make life mean something before death.

i associate heaven with death. and that's not what i want. peace isn't what i want. i want the struggle, the difficulty, the joy, the pain, the rapture, everything. i want everything. i want to live.

oneword: delay

i'm not sure why i can't just sit back and wait for these things to happen a bit more naturally. i wonder sometimes, am i so in need of a confidence boost that i throw myself into unhappy situations for the sake of a compliment?

oneword: wanting

why does it always seem as though what you want it always waiting for you on the other side of the fence? is the grass always greener over there? i don't want to spend my life jumping fences to see if it really is. i want to be able to look down at the grass on my side of the fence and breathe out a sigh of relief and be thankful that I am on my side of the fence, even if there is a little brown patch.

oneword: wanting

i want to lie and say that i'm excited. to say that i am hopeful. to say that it feels different this time. i want to say all those things. i want to mean them.

but i am not happy. i am not excited. i am just calm. quiet. afraid to speak. to jinx. to lose this chance. this opportunity to see.

i feel like my heart won't release completely until i get my own little duckies in a row. until i can be what he needs. what he deserves. i want to be what HE deserves.

... this isn't about what i want anymore.

hidden

we scattered few, hidden from view. where ya been red? there's been so much in between your sparkling appearances.

i miss my friend.

oneword: hidden

Massive brick walls and jagged boulders skew my view of you.

Frigid, musty shadows engulf me.

Moisture molecules escape my stinted breath, made visible in this vacuum of humanity, quietly proving the presence of warmth, of love, of possibility, in this otherwise desolate reality.

oneword: asking

where is this going? what are we doing? is this a bubble, just asking to be popped... or is it something scarily, sanely, brilliantly real? something that is just, for once, going to work? all i'm asking is for a little clarity. all i'm asking for is a chance NOT to screw myself over again.

oneword: asking

I don't pray all too often, but in an attempt to believe in some higher power, I have began. This higher power reinforces the fact that I AM alive, and that there is more to everything. There are people, who in them, I believe He lives. Because He is supposedly everywhere, and that's where I see him being. As I left my house this morning, I prayed, asking for his blessing, in hopes that the exam that predetermines where I'll be in the next year would go well. Afterward, I thought about what I had done, and realized that asking Him for something like that was selfish. There IS more to everything, and thinking that my life is predetermined by exams is unnecessary. I won't ask, but I'll let Him know how it went.

wordcount #4: to

To each her own.

Here's to every single talented, raw, energetic female out there daring to be herself. Here's to the cries of despair that might follow. To the doubt that plagues her heart. To the poison infiltrating her defenses at every step of the way.

Here's also to the laughter that tears us from ourselves, returning us refreshed and renewed. To the bravery, the unwavering belief that we have something to say. We have something important to do in this lifetime. And only we--we women--have the power to actually do it.

To each lady willing to embrace that simple truth, that responsibility to herself, to her, I raise a glass.

oneword: asking

All I am asking for is a little patience. I know I can be a monstrous pain in the ass, but that is just a front. I'm scared of letting go, of releasing any of that control I've tried to maintain my whole life. This inane need for constant and total control has mostly been in vain.

What am I saying? It is purely vain. It is ego in its great and powerful oz-like magnificence.

So please, listen to what I'm asking you:

Keep asking.

oneword: diamond

what are these prisms dancing across my eyes at night? red. the passion. or the lack thereof. orange. the heat that i feel in fleeting moments. yellow. the playfulness that escapes me. green. the rebirth i am seeking. blue. the tears. the ones i hide. and purple. only i'm anything but regal.

i am not flawless. sometimes i'm not even sure that i'm worth much at all.

only the thing is, i'm tougher than you think.

oneword: jar

Lock me up, sock me up, bottle me up inside. And outside. I am trapped in an emotional reality that is me, one that I try day in and day out to figure out but rarely get any closer. I always saw myself as an open book, wearing my heart on my sleeve as they say.

But through the years it turns out that book was slammed shut, bound and rebound, wound and rewound until I barely knew where I began.

The lid is stuck. I'm trying with all my might to unscrew it. My palms are raw and shaking. The knife I used to bang the edges is dull and broken. I'm ready to slam the jar into the ground, shattering any remaining chance of rebirth. I don't have any other resources.

But you.

oneword: jar

go ahead. try to bottle me up.

but i guarantee, i am probably way too much for you to handle.

oneword: point

i used to think that the whole point of falling in love was so you could find "the one," get married, have kids, and live happily ever after on your proverbial porch swing, watching the sun go down every night while you sip tea and talk about how fast it all went by.

this probably comes as no surprise to my older counterparts here...

but maybe, we fall in love to learn more about ourselves. our soul mate is whoever happens to unlock us in our truest forms. maybe it's a lot less about being together....and a lot more about being YOU.

GRE: turpitude

tur·pi·tude n. depravity; baseness; vile, shameful, or base character.

go terps? fear the turtle?

moral perversion. the stuff that really makes my skin crawl. when all the perceptional greys of right and wrong get so cloudy that you ignore that blatant, incessant thump of thump of your heart beating faster and crawling up the back of your throat because you know what you're doing is wrong. that's what scares me the most. when we justify committing these sins against each other with self serving excuses. and only the really good liars - they are the only ones who manage to convince themselves that they don't have to take any responsibility.

GRE: aberrant

aberrant adj. deviating from normal or correct.

what a lovely way to begin. this word, this aberrant, rubbing in the fact that my entire desired "career" path makes no sense. that it's different. that it's barely understood, let alone accepted. such a smart girl i was, such an over achiever. everything was there. right in line. right on time. why couldn't i have just gotten a full time gig like everyone else? or better yet, why couldn't i have taken the GRE back then? why couldn't i have just done what was normal?

hello. my name is aberrant. and i am a unique snowflake.

...just maybe not in the good way.

GRE: an explanation

The Graduate Record Examination (GRE) is the biggest obstacle standing between me and my future endeavors. I have been pretending to study for this BITCH of a standardized test for 3 months now... and have made no headway.

Straight memorization has never been something I have managed to transition out of short-term memory into long-term internalization and understanding. The only thing that works for me is some sort of creative attachment.

So. I'm going to pick a bunch of my vocab words that I am having trouble remembering... and oneword the shit out of them. Feel free to join me, or suggest words that you think I should know the meaning of.

Ready, set, educate!

wordcount #4: to

to and fro echoes stops. and goes with the flow or maybe fights that undertow, a rip-tide flowing, curling, pulling through everything we do or at least try to. when motions take on feelings they become eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeemotions. and i know no matter where i go or how i move, this ride is anything other than smooth.

oneword: spark

daydreams dance electric. neon signs at the back of yours and the back of mine. mind your manners and the mess i've left. nothing behind. nothing between us. nothing except the best kiss i can remember. the only kiss i can remember other than his. you only call me when i am gone and now that i am home you aren't. why did i have to feel that spark?

oneword: spark

oh, what will it take to get this fire started...or should i mourn the loss of another love departed?

flickers of ecstasy. they linger. only time will tell if they are the beginning of a roaring inferno...or the cold, unforgiving ashes of another mistake.

oneword: delicate

flower? oh, my sweet little cliche. i've been in love with the likes of you since before the day... i blossomed -- late, it's true, but with a little taste of me and a whole plate of you. explosions more like drum beats on top of the sheets instead of in between. i felt those moon beams that radiated while i masturbated to the ideal of happily ever after all the broken pieces are glued together in this new picture of forever and ever and ever. amen. again. again. and again and again.

oneword: delicate

my thick-skinned facade
is like an armor, almost, rippled,
everything i hate most about myself,
stitched and fired until it glows red hot,
settling in that cold gray i've become all too comfortable hiding beneath.
i am not tough. i am not strong.
what i am,
is a liar.
i can break my own heart on a daily basis.
i worry that if i poke my head out,
someone will deem me too delicate to make it,
out in the real world,
where i could actually get hurt.
or worse, i may not remember how to feel anything at all.

oneword: graffiti

you were there, unexpectedly last night, smearing across my dreams. recklessly, haphazardly, as if some sort of amateur artist had sloppily plastered your face there. i didn't think i would ever see you there again...or that i would ever feel so much longing when i finally pried myself away long enough to wake up.

graffiti. sometimes forgotten. looked down upon because it isn't what most would consider art.

but then again, i always saw you a bit differently. and unfortunately, i think you will always be around. even if i don't want to look at you.

oneword: graffiti

Splattered across every crumbling surface across every crumbling city exists a raw testament to art. Through the ages of this world and perhaps even others, we see this crystal clear artifact. One that shows rage, love, curiosity, and hope.

Amateur or not, this is a relentlessly honest record of life.

oneword: stick

I am a stick. A skinny minny. A peanut. I am thin...ish. I have always been a small person. My mom says she gave me the perfect dancer's body, sans the chest. With that idea of perfection, I see it as failure when I have any bulge in my mid-section. I mean, I should have a six-pack, right?

And somehow the perfect dancer's body and large chest have managed to govern much of my self-perception and my experience with men. I have lived my life trying to meld my understanding of me into a content understanding of my body.

Maybe being a stick isn't so great after all...

oneword: want

What do I want? Nothing tangible or material. Those things can fade, tarnish, and break down into something unrecognizable.

It's hard to explain, really. But I want realNESS. I am in search of purity. Truth in its simplest form. I want anything and everything that hasn't been buried beneath the bullshit.

oneword: scarf

wrap it up, up, up and around that neck and collarbones that peek out when you cringe or turn your head or clench your teeth together so tightly or giggle until everyone is laughing along with you. cover up that vulnerability so i can't see it anymore, because every time i do i want to dance lightly over it with my lips and feel it in between my hips and love you like you never loved me back.

oneword: villain

I want to blame you for the shots, for the mornings I woke up with my head still spinning, in tears, not sure what happened the night before. I'd love to point my finger at you and say "This is the reason I became what I'd become."

But at the end of the day, you weren't the one pouring the drinks. The real villain, the one most responsible for the hole I'm still trying to climb out of, is me.

oneword: occasion

What's the occasion, you ask?

I am celebrating new beginnings...and the fear they inspire. We are walking into unchartered territory. Or maybe we have been there before, but are going back by moving forward.

Step, step, step. Here we go.

oneword: carefully

one foot in front of the other, meticulously planned steps. back on familiar ground, knowing one false step and it will collapse all over again forcing you to go all the way back to the beginning to rebuild it all again. all of that hard work could be out the window once again if you fall. its no wonder i am being so very exteremely careful this time around.

oneword: carefully

It feels good to come out of hiding. I am peeling off layers to show him what I am most afraid of, slowly, carefully. I work with gentle hands, because I am afraid that if I tear again, I may not be able to pull myself back together.

oneword: chrysaliz

stuck, stewing... in the middle of things. can't move. can't breathe. but most of all, it hurts when i try to sing. this transition is the hardest one. because i am immobile. waiting. praying. that out of this cocoon i will emerge a butterfly. fingers are crossed. but faith is wavering.

oneword: memory

My memories of you and our friendship are fading. I can't remember the last time I called you to give you good news, or showed up at your door in tears because he made me feel like shit again. Whatever once aligned us has split down the middle, and I think we're both grasping at threads now.

Dinner here. Lunch there. Meaningless dribble about everyone but ourselves. Emptiness is looming, and I am scared to admit that I'm willing to let you go.

oneword: holiday

Drink your beers, America. Go have your barbeques, wear red, white and blue, and spend your money at the great sales going on this weekend.

But don't forget, there's actually an underlying story beneath all this hoopla.

oneword: favor

i wish i could do myself a favor...and stop being afraid of opening up to someone again, letting my walls down, and being emotionally intimate. i see my parents, trapped in nothing less than a loveless marriage, and i can't help but wonder if the same is eventually in store for all of us.

is there really a point to it at all?

oneword: favor

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Can you lay under my tire?"

"Uh, I guess so. Why?"

"You'll see ... Yep, right there ... no, get your head a little closer ... Yep, that's it."

"Ouch!"

More Catch up

oneword: trail

a different setting than the arena. a nice cool ride through the trees in the forest. i used to plan fantasy trail rides for 10 year olds and hide popcorn somewhere out on the trail, along with whatever "treasure" we had the kids looking for. most of the young kids bought that we were in the old west or egypt, just by rubbing your eyes until you see spots. it was fun for them, and they got microwavable popcorn. this popped into my head because it was a much simpler time when i was Miss Vicky, a funny, goofy, knowledgeable counselor that swam in the kiddie pool in her jeans for a laugh.

oneword: storm

right before, you know its coming. the winds shift, there is a chill in the air, and there is this electiricity in the air that you can just feel all over. everything gets dark. you hear a clap of thunder in the distance and it starts to pour. then mother nature provides you with her very own lightshow. you count from the time you see the lightning bolt to the time you hear the thunder to know how far away it hit. i just happen to love storms now, but they used to scare the crap out of me when I was little.

one word: Cupcake

delicious, cakey goodness and only worth something like five points in weight watchers.

one word: grace

She emulates the stars, watching carefully and taking note of everything. Her hair and face have grown, engendering beauty that she had wished for long ago. She looked so beautiful and featured such grace as she wore that blue dress upon her day.

my my has she grown, and so has everyone else...

oneword: cupcake

Cupcake. Sweetie-pie. Baby. Beautiful. Hot-stuff. Darlin'.

An open letter to any guy in a bar, three sheets to the wind, looking to get laid:

Kind sir,

Please do not EVER use these names for me before ACTUALLY learning mine. And if our interaction happens to last longer than this hazy, drunken moment, tread lightly. The change-over will not be quick. This I can promise you.

Respectfully not yours,

The girl who hates pick-up lines and sleezy pet-names.

oneword: storm

These days have been heavy. So heavy that my body pushes the air away for a split second only to be smothered again a moment later. Heat and humidity stick to my skin. The tension builds so thick that the only option is for the air molecules to burst. They explode from the burden they've born for days, weeks, years. The sky screams. Anger and frustration crack through the air, on a mission to alleviate some of the pent-up aggression. Light streaks through the air, bent and uncertain. And then, moments after the madness began, the clouds clear and the day continues.

But somehow I don't believe the storm has truly passed.

oneword: trail

blaze.

Catching Up

oneword: forever

that word is always said entirely too early in relationships. its a little like a joke. i used to be this ridiculous hopeless romantic. i believed in what the movies had to say and truly felt it in my heart. but now, i'm not so sure about that. i'm here in the middle of love, and its nothing like that. they skip all of the day to day and the bickering, and being mad at someone for leaving their crap on the dresser. i guess in the last few years, i have become the hopeful romantic, hoping that it didn't die.

oneword: masterpiece

that is quite a situation you have worked yourself into. building it for months and not even knowing it was being built into this monsterous thing that might ruin you for the world. not standing up for who you are, what you believe, and those that love you in your life. that angry, bitter, disgusting, self loathing bubble trapping it all inside with you. thank god for starting to pop it.

oneword: grace

in certain situations, i actually possess that wonderful trait, but I would never in a millions years say that I was graceful. i can ease almost any argument depending on the outcome that needs to happen, and I can usually avoid drama. i would consider that graceful,but i would never consider myself graceful like a dancer. i am in awe of the grace that they possess and the beauty in their movements. i could never move like that.

oneword: forge

push on, move forward, no matter how hard, it is necessary for survival in the world. keep putting one foot in front of the other. keep growing and reaching outside your comfort zone. only there can you find who you really are and what you are really made of.

oneword: pardon

i beg your pardon for the being scared, and not living up to my true potential. i beg your pardon for the lies and secrets. i beg your pardon for not being able to stick up for myself or for you in the past. i beg your pardon for falling flat on my face all the times in the past that i have tried. i beg your pardon for the hurt i have caused. i beg your pardon for the self hating hell i put myself into. i beg your pardon for disappearing from the face of the planet. i beg you pardon for not being there when i should have been.

oneword: pardon

there is no excuse for your behavior. or mine. those 3 hours were so cliche... like when you let it slip that it felt like we were on cloud 9... and when i said that i felt like i was back in high school...

you could be the reason that i can't seem to find anyone who kisses the way that makes my toes curl.

and you were right when you said that i was leaving because i was scared... and now i wish that i had stayed.

because next time i won't be able to play innocent.
next time i won't be able to say that i just got caught up in the moment.

... next time i'll just be an idiot.

oneword: pardon

i can forgive you for hitting us. for throwing things. for hurling my prized babydoll carriage over your head, smashing it against the ground because i forgot to clean my room. i can even forgive you for all the yelling. for all the times you scared me so bad, it was all i could do to stop myself from shaking, sitting alone in my room upstairs. for calling me a bitch when i was 13, because i asked you to turn down the volume on the TV at 6 AM.

i can forgive you for your actions, but not for the memories. not for the scars. and not for the fact that to this day, i can't look you in the eye without remembering all of this.

i know that you want to have a better relationship with me. but i am afraid of you.

i fear anger and conflict. and i can't help but blame you for that.

oneword: pardon

Pardon me, but isn't my life my choice? Aren't the decisions I make and the paths I take mine and mine alone? I will not apologize for not fitting into your picture perfect view of what a 25-year-old white girl from CT should be. I will not conform to that ideal female role. I will not be anything but me. Furthermore, I will not beg pardon from anyone. Particularly from some someone who refuses to take the time to truly see my tangible spirit.

oneword: grace

I've had the good grace to be blessed with a body that works, a brain that works and a life that works ... sometimes.

God has blessed me with the grace to have a family that loves me, a woman that loves me and self that loves me ... sometimes.

Grace and blessings.

oneword: grace

Such a horrible place to fall from.

We try to walk the tightrope, weaving our dreams together with each passing step.

But something always seems to sever the cord. Our friends, our family, our fears, and random events we could never have seen coming. Accidents. Mistakes we predicted, but made anyway.

And now we are left to clamber back up that ladder. Our demons are chasing us at our heels, reaching to snatch away whatever strips of hope we are left wearing on our sleeves.

I pray every day that the next fall will be easier, and the ascent faster....it has to, because I know my armor won't protect me forever.

oneword: grace

Ballerina goes to class every day. She stretches, extends, challenges, tortures her muscles. Sweat drips from her tired pores, flings from her face as she chenee's across the floor, spinning, twirling, dizzying herself into a tizzy. Her lungs scream. Her feet ache. Sharp pains strike her nerves, reminding her of the injury that hasn't fully healed.

But she shows up every day, determined to become what she saw that first time she saw The Nutcracker. The ballerina that effortlessly demanded her attention--strong, competant, beautiful.

The embodiment of grace.

oneword: certainty

The thing I feel when I am with my family or when I am walking my dog along the Connecticut river at dusk. That space within me that reminds me there is enough love, inspiration, and adventure out there for everyone, and that I will have plenty of them all in my lifetime. Sometimes, though, this thing called certainty is hard to find. And it is in those moments that I falter.

oneword: forge

make it happen, girl. you are so close... and then you fall off the wagon. thank goodness for the people you surround yourself with. yeah you are among starz, but when are you gonna be one of them? when are you gonna let yourself shine by just doing the god damn work? every day. one little decision at a time. step. the FUCK. up.

oneword: forever

I stand at the edge, at the precipice of sanity, and stare into the dark depths of forever. My gaze searches in overdrive, throbbing with the questions unanswered. Desire pulses in my veins, pounding what-ifs through my body. I seek answers in a deep dark nothingness scattered with pinpricks of light.

oneword: masterpiece

The ultimate goal. And the ultimate roadblock. This heart yearns for greatness. It wants to say the brilliant, feel the important, see the real. It hopes to be honest, always.

And let's be honest. The biggest and brightest things are often mundane.

To me, the masterpiece is in simplicity, in the lovely normality that twirls around us each day.

oneword: forge

The grass rises above her head, curling over, creating an illusive archway. She looks up and through the slices between blades shines the cool, blue sheen of the midnight moon. It forges through the gaps, gently illuminating her forehead with a nighttime magic, an energy that glows constantly but is often overlooked. And somehow, everything feels natural, like it was meant to be, like it always was, like it will be throughout all time.

oneword: masterpiece

life.

the highs and lows,
fast and slow,
ready. set. go.

art.

the lines that twirl,
colors that swirl,
ancient portraits that bend and curl.

music.

the momentous sound,
with beats that pound,
tugging at our hearts from the underground.

life. art. music.
masterpiece.

oneword: forever

I look at them, that couple and this, and all are different. They kiss and ride as the popular metro saying suggests. The other fight and the tension reaches a new level. You and I... we're just different. A great different.

Forever is like having the golden key to you and everything about you, it's not a word you can throw around. I don't throw my words around. I like to think that my key is silver though.

oneword: forever

It's the biggest lie I've ever been told.

We've started using it to placate ourselves against our fear of loss. Rather than admit that our relationships may not actually persist, we always say that nothing will change, we'll always be together.

But time DOES pass, I don't have a good track record when it comes to maintaining, and I'm not altogether convinced that anything can really last forever.

I really would like for someone to be able to change my mind.

oneword: forever

Forever is a long time. It seems like just yesterday i was eight and he was on top of me. Now I'm 31 and i can't forget it, and I can't let it go.

I wish this were easier. I wish I could snap my fingers and say goodbye to it. But that's not how it works. The only way through it is through it.

the wordcount catch-up

wordcount #2: of

among all the things i don't know in this world, of this i am sure:

there are heartaches so painful that people don't realize they will ever be ok again. there exists greed so great that evil beyond our wildest imaginings has walked this earth. the disparity between the haves and the have nots has always been too prevalent. and the concepts of fairness, compassion, and forgiveness seem to be spread so thin they could barely withstand a gentle breeze.

but i am also sure that every day--among all of those horrors--holds the possibility for change. and the people who believe in the beauty of life are the ones who will one day make what is merely a possibility...an actuality.

i am sure of it.


wordcount #3: and

and so she lived, happily ever after...

somewhere inside me, i've always known this is how my story will end. i'm just working on the middle of things. and for the time being, that makes me the happiest i could hope to be.

oneword: flag

she said he was "flying the friend flag" as if that is an excuse to enter into an emotional affair. she claimed innocence to the whole thing. she didn't know he was falling in lust with her, that he would nearly leave his two children and wife for her. she refused to accept any responsibility for the fact that her selfishness overrode common sense.

and i fear she never will.

oneword: flag

my love, my life... my everything. something so simple: a piece of fabric on a pole. i am lucky to have stumbled upon this most animate of inanimate objects. i still don't quite know how it became the only thing that keeps me optimistic. that keeps me going. that reminds me that i am strong, beautiful, creative and something worth sweating, bleeding, crying and working hard for. no, i don't know how or why... but i am grateful. and i will spin until i can't anymore.

oneword: flag

They rose the flag at the ballpark to half-mast. Joe DiMaggio must've died, again. I can see him, gracefully floating in the green, green grass, striped by the mower that criss-crosses it morning after morning.

The driver of the mower is from the Bronx, but he lives in Jersey now with his family, just getting by on the meager pay.

oneword: senses

i have to believe that there is more out there than just what we can see and touch and smell and hear and taste. i keep plugging along in the hopes that something else is guiding me through all this pain to teach me something, because my senses seem to have failed me time and time again.

i don't always see the good standing in front of me. i don't always touch hearts the way i want to. i don't always wake up and smell the coffee when i'm trapped in a cloud of my own delusions. i don't always hear the people who need me, and i sure as hell don't always taste sweet.

so i'm perfectly imperfect. and i'd like to think i was designed that way.

oneword: deep

It is truly amazing how dark and dank the places we let ourselves fall to. We end up taking a hit, and suffering the fall. We end up feeling hopeless and alone. We just push people futher away, the further we fall. You try to climb back out, scratching and clawing for your life as you slip. down and down. In the end though, the only one who can save you, is you.

wordcount #3: and

A link from past to present, now and then. If I fix my future, I won't need to hold on so dearly to the past. I long to live outside of the comfort zone once again. Trying, and progressing, and growing, and living, and loving, and remembering the person that is sleeping inside of me. She is still there she just needs to take that first step.

oneword: deep

whenever someone says they don't like people who "try" to be deep i am instantly offended. because how can you really tell if someone is "trying" to be deep, or if they really just are? i mean, don't we all have the capacity? isn't it just a choice as to whether or not we take things on surface level, or if we read between the lines?

oneword : deep

The beat sounds at a steady pace while she stands on the moving platform. She’s awaiting her next destination also known as mission impossible, except without the guns or the spies. Suddenly, the platform that appeared flat starts moving downwards. Faster and deeper. Almost like a flip book or those advertisements that appear in motion on the metro, the speed of the platform are like the images that she holds tightly since they seem so fleeting. These images... she holds close since she knows her thoughts easily become images, which are almost real enough touch. The beat and sounds increase with the addition of a few images that are momentarily holding their presence for
just
a
little
bit
longer.

oneword: deep

push harder. move faster. dig deeper. i ignored those words for so long, valuing idleness and constancy over progress and change. i kept my wings tucked in close because i was too afraid of flying without directions. fuck road maps. i am doing this my way.


and it makes me wonder...

maybe i have only scratched the surface of my potential.

wordcount #1: the

The best. The one. The life. The answer. ThetheTHEThE.

The finality of things lingers in my thoughts. It pollutes my breath. It stalls my dreams.

How do paradoxes work? And why do I love them so? There are infinite options and unlimited roads to take in life, and each of us makes these choices every second of every day. But a little demon exists, an itty-bitty nymph hanging over our heads. It nags, it harrasses, it tugs on last nerves. It whines at that supersonic, almost inaudible decible: "Did you make THE right decision? Did you say THE right thing? Did you play THE game by THE rules?"

With ear drums throbbing, I take said itty-bitty nymph, I sit him down, and I force him to look at the word. We write it down and then we slice it up. We imprint the ink on silly putty and stretch it apart. We use paint and smear it around. After a few hours of this play, he stops the whining. His angst calms to a purr.

We realize that the finality of things is maleable. As is life. And I'm ready to stretch and bend and blend and break and send my decisions, my messages in a messy, sometimes unpredictable package.

Me and my nymph, we've come to an understanding: There is no THE RIGHT WAY for me. There is only MY WAY. Si?

wordcount #3: and

connection. bringing it all together. i see this word sprouting between us. between you and me and her and she and he and everything. i blink a few times and let it come back into focus. to check and make sure it's real. thankful and inspired it seems, these writers all here, and somehow sharing the same dreams. it truly has begun.

wordcount #1 and #2

The

The time had come for me to face that demon. To see him. With her. They've become a them, two individual identities merged into the one they are when they are together. I think it was the final step I needed to get over it. I felt the kind of relief that only comes when you see that their life together is nowhere near as good as mine has been alone.

Of

I watched a school of fish cross the length of a creek last night. Nature, perfectly in sync with itself. Their bodies moving with an innate knowledge of one another. A collective mass moving together, like a water comet streaking across the reflected sky.

It is funny that those fish understood each other so completely and fluidly, while we can't get going in one direction together long enough to accomplish much of anything.

Catching up

One Word: Daisy

Wasnt' that Donald duck's girlfriend? Not even the cartoon characters, with no pants and webbed feet, are safe from partnering off in this world.


Wordcount #1: The

The fear inside is not really of the other person, its of failing again to do the one thing that needs to be done. Without fixing the thing in my life that is utterly broken, I will die, but I have the most amazing shot to fix it. I haven't done it yet, because I have been afraid of the same conversation with the same end, and I couldn't stand another defeat like that. To fail myself and others is not okay with this one. Failure is not an option. The only option is to stare to fear in the eye, and fix this for real.

Wordcount # 2: OF

Of all of the things I am, I am not quite sure that creative or writer is one of them. Tortured soul, guitar player, music lover, singer (in the shower), head scratcher, workaholic (doesn't matter the job), and bartender...those are all things that I am sure of...its everything else that I am a little iffy on.

wordcount #2: of

i've got a preposition for you. just stop. stop all of it. stop the mixed modifications and calculated compliments. stop lying your way through the shambled remains of your childhood fantasies. stop waiting around and just go build it. find the souls who mirror your desires and don't let them run away this time. and stop answering the calls of those souls who fool you into thinking that you will gain from all you give but only leave you drained and unsure everything you ever believed in.

wordcount #1: the

the end. the beginning. the time... is now. we add so much importance. emphasis. with just a finite title.

label me, oh identifying identifier. sound me out, spell me slowly and use me in a proper sentence.

maybe then... and only then... will this she find the he.

wordcount: an explanation

WordCount™ is an interactive presentation of the 86,800 most frequently used English words.

I think the site is brilliant. You can look up any word and find out how commonly used it is. So far, it has kept my vernacular very humble.

But why plug this site right now? And why on this blog?

Because in the amazing swell of activity we have seen over the past few days, I have found myself wanting even more. One word every day or so is just not enough.

So I plan on going through wordcount. oneword at a time.

True, we won't have the fancy timer. Or the hundreds of other participants. But still... the challenge to write something extraordinary inspired by the most ordinary of sources?

It sounds like something this group might just be capable of.

oneword: daisy

petal by petal, this game we play with ourselves. trying to control the feelings of someone else. we tug in hopes of drowning out the fear of the unknown. that fifty percent chance of rejection and failure. we desperately plead with the cosmos to give us what we THINK we want. instead of appreciating what we are feeling and giving to someone else... it always comes back to whether or not we are getting anything out of it.

oopsy.

oneword: daisy

Daisy pokes her head out of the dry, crusted ground. Gasping for air. Longing for light. She stretches the limbs that have been cramped and encased, nearly dead, feeling the blood start to flow again. Feeling the lungs open up again. She begins to feel the air, to breathe it in. She begins to grow, live, bloom.

Her sometimes too-proud blossom faces the all-powerful sun and soaks in the warm energy deprived her for so long.

And she sighs to herself, "It's about time."

oneword: daisy

Love me, love me not. I wasted too much time listening to the petals.

If life was really like the movies, we'd pick the perfect flower with the perfect number of petals to give us that perfect answer about our "perfect" love.

That daisy was my last hope. Those petals, my last attempt to grab hold of something I had spent so much time nurturing. But plants don't grow in a world of half-sunlight and partial showers. Neither did I. Neither did we.

oneword: substance

this major thing lacking from a life less ordinary that has become routine, boring, mundane. the piece of me that has been hidden away while NOT being me. something major that someone major still brings to my life on a daily basis even though I ditched her. two letters carry so much of it, after not speaking for a while...h.i.
Hi. also quite possibly what is missing from this post.

oneword: substance

Abuse. But by whom? Do I abuse the fact that I know alcoholism runs in my family? Or does the substance really just abuse me?

And in the process of all of this meaningless, mindless thinking, have I lost the point entirely? How do I find my substance again?

oneword: substance

It is something that I dread. I cannot think of anything I'd rather not do. Cat poo. And it's all mine, now that she went and got knocked up. And why can't pregnant women clean the litter? What, a little cat poo is going to make my kid a dumbass or something? Pretty sure my ancestors came from goat farms and I kan shtill sfell.

oneword: substance

i think about it and you and i and us every single day. i think about what you chose over me and the monster that i became. about how i could never join you in that world... because you wouldn't let me. how you pegged me into the role of this innocent little girl and how you used that shit to try and escape me. you somehow kept it just out of reach and held it against me... all at the same time. you told me everything i had ever been paranoid about was true. and i may never be able to forgive you -- no -- forgive myself for trying to love you anyway. even though i knew it wasn't right.

oneword: substance

Wake up, roll over, get out. This was meaningless...again. Feet hit the cool floor, one look back at the sleeping mound left behind, then quick! scoot! out the door.

He merely existed. A three-dimensional substance, draped in blankets, one foot hanging off the end of the bed, dragging through the murky water of whatever we were supposed to be.

one word: radiate

and as the heat escapes, it hovers in the air above. i guess you could say that it radiates like the beating of my heart for you and a hopeful love. but i am a jaded and paranoid dove, having been pushed and shoved and misguided and misused and taken advantage of. so there is no doubt that i will push you away. and the heat inside will only sweat for my own heart and my own blood until a tomorrow that may only ever be a "someday."

one word: century

thinking of time longer than i'll ever see and things bigger than i'll ever be. it makes me hope that this isn't it. that there isn't just one chance. that it is all connected. that the puzzle is so big that we need more than one go-round to piece it all together.

cowboy: an exposition

this blog all started because of a cowboy.

back when brian (the guy who created oneword) was still writing poetry online and letting oneword participants list links to their websites. i found the cowboy's site through the word "twilight." I left him a comment, he returned the favor and we soon became digipals. later, he became the first internet window that i fell in love with.

for whatever reason, we both thought that a site dedicated to my oneword creations would be awesome. so he designed and set up a site for me based around this picture: the starz are awake.

but we hit a glitch in our relationship when he fell in love with someone he could touch and see in person. i was hurt. and i decided to start the site over on my own. the rest is history.

he is now married and only blogs about nerdy computer things that i have little interest in. but he'll always be my cowboy. and i'll always think of him whenever i am outside in evening twilight.

oneword: harbor

illusory safety. i've hidden a lot of danger under the blond hair, beneath the blue eyes. incredulity. distrust. fear. looming, building, pressurizing, condensing into a solid mass of insecurity.

your ship can't land here. i can barely dock my own.

oneword: cowboy

You came in with the spring's wind, you whiskey-drinking, country music sonofabitch. I fell in love with your swagger, your stony eyes, your careless demeanor.

Instead of a trusty steed, you had a beat-up old Corolla. Still, we rode off into the sunset together, or so I thought.

I called you my Cowboy, my outlaw. But you stole everything. I guess you really can't tame restless hearts.

oneword: guilty

My last memories are of you sitting in your wheelchair, one hand clutching the babydoll we bought you for Christmas, the other latched onto mine like steel. Pop's feeding you, brother is off with Mom making sure they kept your room clean this time. No words, no conscious thought. Just those eyes. Those piercing blue, hit-you-like-an-ocean-wave eyes. Looking at me, searching. Trying to remember, I hope.

You never deserved that state of total dependence.

I didn't come see you enough. I dreaded walking into that nursing home. But you know what causes me the most guilt of all? That week we knew we were losing you. I didn't want to come say goodbye. I can't even handle the cemetery these days, because I feel so horribly that the last days of your life, I wasn't there for you.

oneword: guilty

cultivated and nurtured over time, i was the caretaker to a mind satisfied only when chasing. running. trying too hard to conquer something i had no business fighting for.

relearning how to live, breathe and pine for something more than cat and mouse... this lioness is weary.

i see myself still perpetuating the pattern. and after the high wears off, i am left guilty knowing that i have merely pushed what i really need farther away from me.

oneword: extreme

standing at either one end or the other, we look down the hallway. wondering. waiting. there is no where to go but forward. but we don't move. all we can see is that destination. we forget all of those in betweens along the way.

oneword: extreme

remembering the times he would push her, yell, sit staring at the wall in silence...avoiding her tear-stained face because looking her in the eyes would reflect back the boyfriend he used to be, and the one he was turning into. she realizes now. that wasn't love. it was about power, control, how fast can i make her cry and then fall for me all over again. a game. the other extreme. she lost every time. she thought she lost everything.

now she's climbing back up. realizing her potential. stretching her wings. meeting people that make her believe again. maybe not in the fairy tale, but at least she is being realistic.

oneword: discipline

go ahead, disciples. follow the line. it curves and breaks and cuts back and forth and while you have an idea as to where you are headed, there is no clue in sight that you'll actually get there.

oneword: discipline

correct me. punish me. whatever. i learned a long time ago that the best way to get along with you is to ignore you. your discipline held me back from finding out what the world is really like, from finding me. turns out i was hidden somewhere in the dark corner of that claustrophobic cage.

sometimes i hate myself when i am around you, because i never meet your expectations. i have tried to create a life for myself that stacks up to the frame you tried to shove me into.

and the really sad part is that i can't remember the last time you said you were proud of me.

instead, all i can recall are the things i've worked my ass off to forget.

oneword: few

i'm sure that someone out there would start off with "few people know how to love, how to be kind to one another, how to *insert your own fucking mindless cliche about how we are SUPPOSED to be*...."

but those reek with undertones of optimism. the hope that someone, somewhere out there has their shit together. and right now, i'd much rather tell you that too few people even ACT like people anymore...which makes me a hypocrite. because, yes, i am suggesting that there is still some good out there.

that's the problem with "few." you keep plugging along, hoping someone will change your mind.

oneword: few

few have really seen these words. read them. bothered to figure out what any of the vagueness is referring to. my underbelly is pink and plush, full of secret loves, hopes and dreams that i am too afraid to share with most. because most just blow them off.

maybe they are too scared too.

oneword: aisle

all eyes on me. step, together. step, together. "isn't this what you've wanted, what you've dreamed about your entire life?"

but his face is blank and i want to run. i am boxed in by their wall of smiles, pushed ever closer to a stranger who i am supposed to accept is the ONE.

the one time i inserted a face, a smiling, crying, happy groom...yes, all just an empty dream.

and the bells? they sound like a dirge.

oneword: plus

plus-sized, big fat bloated eyes ready for juicing, squeezing love and life and moments of gazing at me. reflections of intentions i have dance around those laugh lines you smirk away carelessly. you ask me how my song goes. truth is, i already knew the words... but not the melody. at least, not until you played it for me.

oneword: mystery

how is it that we are back here again? how is it that no matter how far i push or pull or bend or break, it all comes back to this. this same room. this same internet window. is this home? or is this just my holding pad? what is it that will finally stick? what is it that i have been waiting for?