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?

oneword: chase

knew this guy. good egg, that one. lazy as the day is long. still. a good guy. he went and lost his mind on the drugs you know. chasing the dragon. said he could quit anytime. i told him to prove it but he only gave me that little smile. last time i saw him he was a cage. not jail. that would have been much better. he was in a cage being sold as a sex toy.

ghost

naked angels

i'm rearranging and i don't say anything anymore. remember when we used to rail and rant and rave against everything. we were rage before there was a machine. we lamented broken hearts, false smiles, and restrictions heaped upon us by "The Powers That Be."

remember?

and now, what? our jobs. new people. new places. it's hard to stay in touch, stay together, stay integrated, but we've tried because naked angels forever. but we're all on our own adventures now with everything that is not one another.

what do you say, angels? one last farewell ride? one last grand adventure?

this morning i sat watching the sun rise to my own beating heart.



ghost

attendance?

the computer that i am using @ work has this pink index card with "attendance?" written on it. it's there to remind the teacher that i am subbing for to turn in their attendance report for that day.

i thought it might make a good do-it-yourself oneword, since the site has had the same damn word up there for who knows how long. i'm going to start picking random words again because i'm getting restless.

so yeah. here goes: attendance?

are you going to be there? because i don't want to go if you aren't going. the thought of being alone over there with all of those people i don't know very well makes me nervous. i sometimes wonder how i would fair if i didn't have you to lean on in times likes this, and really feel as though you could be holding me back. but that comforts me in a sad sort of way because at least i know what i'm in for with you and me and the same idle chit chat we always have. not having to worry about the balance changing. not having to think on my toes. to actually get involved or risk something. just tell me you'll be there so i can just go into autopilot and live here in this cushy little situation i have built for myself. just tell me that you want to hide with me.

solo

solo. so low. my chest is bare from crawling on the ground. across the broken bottle shards of what was. across the ashes i can't seem to pull myself together enough to rise out of. i never really cared for the myth of the phoenix anyway.

funny how many "friends" you have when you're down in it. they say nice things, remind you to rise above, keep your chin up, give it time.

they are fools.

from brash beginning to the bitter end, we are all, each and every one of us, alone.



ghost

one word: solo

flying away, high and unevenly. one of my wings is broken. and i'm alone. but it doesn't take away from the fact that i am up in the air... soaring and free... even with all the pain.

oneword: blind

the pain is so bad i can't see. i can't see more than 5 minutes in front of me. what happens later on shouldn't be of a concern. can't be a concern. but you let it rule you like you can't see me.

oneword: create

Strike a note in the air, that the sound might be distinguishable from the noise. Whether order from chaos or chaos from order, the made is unmade. A single instant provides destruction’s utter destruction. It begins.

oneword: create

build me something pretty. that is dying on the inside. or something small. that is more important than anything twice its size. something that reminds you of how it used to be. even though you didn't like the way it used to be. something that gets you back to where you started. even if you don't know how it ends yet.

oneword: pure

purity of motion. dancing in denial. i am the aftermath of broken rings, failed trust. the pieces on the chess board are not supposed to change colors.

ghost

onewrod: blade

blade, man, you died as hard as you lived. i wasn't around, i had moved on, so far away from you, from that world. i used to joke that you would die with a fifth in one hand, a knife in the other, and a curse on your lips. the way i hear it though, you died in a puddle of your own filth, with nothing more than a moan and a pauper's plot to mark your passing existence.

ghost

oneword: tail

tale ends, tail spins, ice on the ground and a broken bottle. my blood mingles with the ice, and i am transported into a dali painting, abandoned inside a poem by robert frost. drowsy and alone. is it chemical induced isolation, or am i just sick of you all?


ghost

oneword: intricate

intricate. the pattern of our lives weaved, threaded, and spun together. even if a loose thread snags some sharp object and the momentum of our movement were to pull us undone, you will never truly be without my pattern so carefully and permanantly intertwined with your own. we would have to destroy ourselves to be free of the other.


ghost

sliver(s)

everytime you jump, you just know she's gonna catch you. leap, her arms fall to the side as you fall past and slam into the ground. you try to clean up the soul glass splinters, but like actual glass slivers you never really get them all and end up cutting your fingers on them time after time. after a while, you gather enough confidence to try again. everytime you jump, you just know she's going to catch you.

ghost

oneword: sliver

just a tiny piece. a small, narrow, slightly broken sliver of you. that's all i need to keep. all i need to keep moving. keep hoping. keep believing. place me on the back burner. use me until i'm raw and boring and you don't want me anymore. i'll still wait. i'll still hope. as long as i have that piece.

oneword: sinner

i was the wind. i was the light. i was a fleeting thought of life and love. i was rapture wrapped up in a smile. i was all things childish and filled with wonder. i was the savior of your world.

and i gave it all away.


ghost

oneword: saint

my father dressed me down in robes and moons and stars that dripped onto the floor like the blood of his wounds and passions long lost in the fray between him and his love and hate for a god who never let him have what he wanted.

oneword: saint

warlock, our brother of perpetual lies. man, i remember you. the golden boy, all flash of teeth and bronze of skin. where are you now? alone in an old house. wife gone. kids gone. a junkie. loathed and despised. i wonder if i'll give a fuck when you go marching in.


ghost

oneword: melt

the asphalt bubbled and bled swirling steam into the winter air. what the hell? another biblical prophecy coming true. buildings gone. people dead. even the roaches have bit the big one. life as we know it, knew it, wanted it, over.

"damn it, i refuse to be another Dali painting," i whisper, despite the fact there's not a soul around to hear me.

ghost