oneword: disconnect

the keyboard seems foreign to me. i feel like i might have lost my voice.

i think he took part of it.

oneword: provide

The granite is gray and cold to the touch. It is strange to be standing here, staring across at your name, my fingers tracing the etching of the lily and the cross. My knees cramp from the weight of my torso leaning over to brush off the grass and debris from the winds this weekend.

I am sorry that it has taken seven years to say this, to come back here.

To be honest, the guilt was too much. I should have been there, given you my hand to take and hold onto while the world spun out of control into what I hope was a warm and inviting light.

What kind of granddaughter was I to not provide for you in your last years? Visiting you became a weekend chore, and I let the lure of friends pull me from enjoying what little time I could with you.

My mom talks a lot about butterflies, how they land on her when she comes here, even in the dead of winter. I want desperately to see and feel that, to know that even though I wasn't there for you, a part of you is still there for me.

oneword: blackout

Strange how oneword can sum up my entire junior year of college. I should be poetic. I should be able to relate this word to some sort of haughty metaphor, and then swing back and implicitly tie it back to my life, all the while maintaining a distance in tone that will let me attack myself as if I were someone else.

The only memories I have left are, sadly, the early morning phone calls to someone who would understand. And the crying. There was a lot of that.

And still, there are times when I find it hard to drink and stop myself. I don't make as many stupid mistakes because I can't let myself go back to what I was.

But the truth is, I am terrified. Every time I hold a beer in my hand, or I take a shot, I am just scared.

One word: Grid

hardened corners, small squares filled with air. an endless maze of right angles that attempt to fill the void of space. a place for everything and everything in its place. but whose face in this space can place a smile on mine?

(this is my first attempt. be gentle :) )

oneword: grid

oh you splendidly sweet blocks of cold air and open space... waiting - begging me to fill you in with pencil-scribbled mistakes...

stage blocking that leaves clocks tick, tock- tocking... outlining time in smooth, cubicle lines... a marching band formation just waiting to be the climax of my geometrical masturbation...

marking spots with x's and dots... stacking up shapes like bricks layered in between superhero capes...

cold and empty, my graph paper pleasure box... pardon me... i've gotta go get my rocks off.

oneword: specific

How strange to move from those dance-floor grinds and daytime rewinds with friends to this specific moment when I look over at you and feel like I might actually have found everything I've wanted and fought for so long to find. I believe again.

oneword: believe

hand fried and deep picked i believe in that slow-mo d r i p,
d r i p,
d rrrrrrrrrrrr i p...

down the sides of ripe, red fruit and the inner thighs of tight leather boots.

wanna-be beatnik poetry pricks...

if i were a boy you'd be sucking on MY dick.

oneword: keypad

my fingers are like ghosts as they float over these keys. haunting what i used to love and who i used to be.

"too concerned with the worlds on the outside..." is he right? has the inside of me died? did i kill it just like he killed my love for him?

without water we do not grow. without practice we lose muscle memory. without activity we grow soft. lazy. boring.

oh these keys that used to bleed for me now only dance for facebook and online dating. i am embarrassed. i am ashamed. but i am not dead yet.

oneword: keypad

Looms before me; projects and inspirations await. It remains eternally patient until I get my ass in gear.

oneword: vulture

There is an ever present something hovering up above me, above us all. Hunched over, knobby, scaly, strange. Always searching for its "in," its opportunity to feed. It hangs there in limbo, looking for someone else's success, someone else's love, someone else's life. It is a cheater. It is hopelessness. It is the constant nagging that nothing is permanent, that if you don't take care and protect the life you're leading, it might be taken away from you forever.

oneword: sprout

Peeking up through the crust of winter, I see the promise of relief showing its pretty little face. And with it will come warmth, flip-flops, summer dresses, and a breath of fresh air. A much needed breath of fresh air.

oneword: middle

She stands in the middle of the room.  But it is not just any room.  It is a room, like so many other rooms, that has defined so many moments in her life.  

She stands there in the pit, the lowest point of the whole place, the point where a piece of the magic begins.  She turns to the back of the room, looking upwards over hundreds of battered, worn seats, seeing shifty figures and faces that have occupied them through the years.  She sees the tears and the laughter, the intense attention and the restless boredom, the family, the friends, the faces of people who made a regular moment wholly unique and irreplaceable, never to be found exactly as it was again.

Her eyes travel up past those seats to the doors which welcomed those faces in, to the booth which controls other pieces of the magic.  She lets her eyes travel across the high ceilings and up to the catwalk, caging in streams of light which illuminate and inform the magic, hanging from above the pieces that will bring people and moments to life.

Then, ever so slowly, she allows her body to turn, facing a gaping hole--dimly lit, empty.  The floor gouged, splintered, worn.  Remnants of tape and paint and blood, sweat, and tears sprinkle the surface which so many have occupied before her.  Remnants of successes and failures haunt the space before her.  

And she is not sure she belongs in this room, like she has in others from before.  The pieces of the past do not speak to her here, the pieces of this room are still foreign, strange.  She stands there looking, questioning, hoping, that before too long that strangeness will disappear.  She stands there hoping that the various pieces of the magic she knows so well will come together for her here.  

Because then, standing in the middle of things will feel less daunting.

oneword: change

Whipped through my world and knocked me on my ass. I was preoccupied at the time, and was taken aback. But the thing is...this change, this shift in my life...it's been a long time coming. And part of me knew it was on its way all along.

oneword: dance

This is the stuff that pulses its way through my veins. It flits and flurries, it leaps and crashes around my life. And the further away I get from a life centered around dance, the unhappier I get.

oneword: dance

first dance. last chance. quick ro-mance.

story of my life.

oneword: favorite

These are a few of my favorite things: winter night skies, the moon in any or all of its stages, the stars, the smell of the seasons, the breeze that envelops me, telling me that there is more in the world, the wisdom of ocean waves, laughter of all kinds and at all times, seeing love in someone's eyes, being silly and being serious, knowing that I am there for people just as they are for me, knowing that I am needed and relied upon, words, notes, movements, creative expression, the cosmic quiet occurring when it snows, the melting of a New England winter into spring, getting manicures with my girlfriends, dressing up and dressing down, going out on the town, being crazy and calm, wacky sarcastic interchanges, late night lucubrations and mad creations...

But my most favoritest thing of all...

Not knowing all of my favorite things until they take my breath right out of my lungs.

oneword: now

Now is the time for honesty, for coming clean, for moving forward. I cannot change what has happened. And I can no longer dwell in the past. I have to accept the decisions, the mistakes, and the hurts so that now will be haunted no longer--and a new now can step in, the real thing, the now I've been waiting for.  I must burn those bridges that keep me perpetually linked to a past wrought with drama and pain, filled with questions and unnecessary naysaying.  

Now has possibility and hope written all over it. But I have to grab it. I have to take this opportunity, own it.

Here and now. No excuses.

oneword: meant

what that meant was the end of an era. and even though i consciously never meant for it to happen, we will never be able to look at each other in the same way ever again. of all the things i've done that i am supposed to regret, i think this is the thing i am the most sorry for.

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.