oneword: hover

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

oneword: hover

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



ghost

oneword: aware

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

Oneword: Aware

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


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

oneword: aware

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

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

oneword: held

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

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

oneword: suspend

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

oneword: suspend

emptyfullwhitenoisemadness.

my headspace.

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

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

my headspace.

will be ready when she finally arrives.

my headspace.

will make a katrina a masterpiece.

oneword: held

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

To be held by you.

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

Oneword: Suspend

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


Envious

wordcount #9 & #10: is & was

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

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

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

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

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

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

oneword: suspend

disbelief.

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

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

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

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

oneword: suspend

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

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

oneword: cow

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

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

Somebody else's selfish desire dictated her destiny.

ONEWORD: Startled

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

startled

startled. throttled. bottled.

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

it makes me wonder...



what else is in there.


ghost

oneword: startled

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

gentle

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

oneword: gentle

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

sigh...

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

oneword: gentle

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

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

wordcount #8:it

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

oneword: path

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

sigh.

wordcount #8: it

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

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

oneword: path

"i can teleport," i told them.

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

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

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

Wiki defines bohemianism:

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

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

hrmmmmmn.

path

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

...

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

oneword: bulb

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

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

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

oneword: bulb

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

Oneword: Bulb

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

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

And all of this happened.

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

crown

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

...

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

oneword: crown

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

OR...

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

oneword: flight

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

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

wordcount #3- and

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

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

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

oneword: flight

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

oneword: flight

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

wordcount #6: in

Inside...

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

In-between...

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

Indefinite...

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

oneword: flight

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

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

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

oneword: hill

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

hill

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

wordcount #7: that

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

FreeRice: an explanation

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

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

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

oneword: hill

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

oneword: hill

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

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

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

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

oneword: hill

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

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

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

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

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

oneword: evidence

I find these truths to be self-evident:

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

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

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

Love is all you need.

Amongst madness you can find clarity and hope.

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

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

oneword: evidence

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

wordcount #6: in

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

:sticks head in sand:

by accident

inspired by today's oneword: feathered

her outfits always match
the weather

her hair is always up
and feathered

she carries
her heart
in her jeans'
back left pocket

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

* originally written 9/12/03

oneword: feathered

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

wordcount # 5: a

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

oneword: proud

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

oneword: proud

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

oneword: proud

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

oneword: wildflower

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

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

And I will fight.

oneword: wildflower

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

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

oneword: wildflower

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

oneword: brick

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

wordcount #5: a

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

oneword: brick

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

Or is it loneliness?

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

oneword: brick

And so we keep building.

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

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

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

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

oneword: throw

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

And sometimes that pushes me off center.

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

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

wanting

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

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

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

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

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

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

oneword: delay

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

oneword: wanting

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

oneword: wanting

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

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

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

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

hidden

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

i miss my friend.

oneword: hidden

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

Frigid, musty shadows engulf me.

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

oneword: asking

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

oneword: asking

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

wordcount #4: to

To each her own.

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

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

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

oneword: asking

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

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

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

Keep asking.

oneword: diamond

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

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

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

oneword: jar

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

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

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

But you.

oneword: jar

go ahead. try to bottle me up.

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

oneword: point

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

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

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

GRE: turpitude

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

go terps? fear the turtle?

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

GRE: aberrant

aberrant adj. deviating from normal or correct.

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

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

...just maybe not in the good way.

GRE: an explanation

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

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

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

Ready, set, educate!

wordcount #4: to

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

oneword: spark

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

oneword: spark

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

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

oneword: delicate

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

oneword: delicate

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

oneword: graffiti

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

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

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

oneword: graffiti

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

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

oneword: stick

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

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

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

oneword: want

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

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

oneword: scarf

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

oneword: villain

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

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

oneword: occasion

What's the occasion, you ask?

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

Step, step, step. Here we go.

oneword: carefully

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

oneword: carefully

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

oneword: chrysaliz

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

oneword: memory

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

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

oneword: holiday

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

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

oneword: favor

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

is there really a point to it at all?

oneword: favor

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Can you lay under my tire?"

"Uh, I guess so. Why?"

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

"Ouch!"

More Catch up

oneword: trail

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

oneword: storm

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

one word: Cupcake

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

one word: grace

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

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

oneword: cupcake

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

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

Kind sir,

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

Respectfully not yours,

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

oneword: storm

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

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