I tend to count how many times I use the bathroom at the shop. Silly, I know, but still. When I have to go use it I creep over quietly hoping Jack won't see me. Even though the door squeaks loud enough even for Jack(who is hard of hearing) to hear. In my head he's thinking, "Wow that girl uses the bathroom a lot. Maybe I should have her help pay for toilet paper." When really he probably doesn't notice or doesn't care.
Is it my generations desire to be obsessed with having some sort of mental disorder that causes me to notice these things about myself, and wonder what’s wrong with me? Is it all just a big cry for attention and medication? I have ADHD love me! I am Autistic fear and revere me! We used to go out of our way to pretend to be perfect. Now we compare our children’s doctors notes as if they were medals of honor. Where did it all come from? Are there still people out there content with there cross-eyed normal children?
Don't Know Why But I Do by Me
Why do I care what you think,
You are not the one in my head.
I never wanted your affections,
But then your smile gave me hope.
Stupid blind hope thats deaf to truth,
Blind and deaf yet still strives to live.
Even when I saw you walk with another,
My hope flew up forgetting all pain and tears.
I dreamt of your face untill I was sick,
And prayed that you would curse me.
But my hope would not give in,
She guides me to ruin.
Truth stabs me in the heart.
You never cared,
You never even
Knew my name.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Doubt
I Could Make You
What if I could make you doubt
Every thought you've ever had?
What if I could make you doubt
Every word you've ever said?
I could make you stutter,
And speak maybe's not sure's and I thinks.
I could make you hold your breath,
And count every time your eye blinks.
Your every step would falter
At the terror of going outside.
Your face would twitch at a question
Wishing it could just hide.
"What reason could there be?"
You ask me now with doubt.
Beacause I'm tired of uncertainty,
And whispering when I'd rather shout.
Spithead likes to walk our pet crocidile with me. It gives us time to talk and enjoy nature. He usually asks me, "How's your writing going?", and I usually say, "It's not.". I hate answering like that because he's so supportive. I wish I were different. I think about writing a lot, but I don't have the hootspa to actually write it down. What I have written usually disapoints or disgusts me. Spithead would tell you otherwise, but he's my brother. Thats not to say he's dishonest with me. No, he's a great critic.
My biggest problem is that I can't keep anything going. I've got a ton of beginning, middles and ends but none of them fit together. Or continue on by themselves. I sometimes think the reason I have a hard time writing is my lack of "college education". But haven't there been loads of authors that were genius' without extra schooling? My trouble is with my lack of confidence and motivation. Where does one purchase these? I've prayed many times to be blessed with them, but Lord you obviously said no or not yet. Moving right along.........
Currently reading an early reviewer for LibraryThing called Dracula's Guest. Very interesting, its short stories of the very first, or beginnnings of, vampire stories. Before Bram Stoker and Stephenie Meyer. Also reading Stardust by Neil Gaiman and Charles Vess. Beautiful book with lovely pictures and an original story. Spithead got it for me from the library. Also reading poetry bur Rainer Maria Rilke and William Stafford. I was introduced to Rilke by Maggie Stiefvater's book Shiver. I have a nice sized poetry collection in my personal library. So I was very frustrated when I couldn't find any poems of the two previously mentioned poets in my possesion. And our printer is out of ink, so I had to wait till we went to the Warsaw library.
Didn't have much luck with Mr. William Stafford but did find some books of Rilke's poetry. One of the books is bilingual, so on one side you have the original German and on the other side english. That'd be an interesting way to teach myself German.
I shall leave you now with a poem each by the two poets I've been speaking of.
A Story That Could Be True
By William Stafford
If you were exchanged in the cradle and
your real mother died
without ever telling the story
then no one knows your name,
and somewhere in the world
your father is lost and needs you
but you are far away.
He can never find
how true you are, how ready.
When the great wind comes
and the robberies of the rain
you stand in the corner shivering.
The people who go by—
you wonder at their calm.
They miss the whisper that runs
any day in your mind,
"Who are you really, wanderer?"—
and the answer you have to give
no matter how dark and cold
the world around you is:
"Maybe I'm a king."
Love Song
By Rainer Maria Rilke
How should I keep my soul
from touching yours? How should I
lift it beyond you toward other things?
Ah, I would gladly shelter it
in darkness with some lost thing,
on some remote unsounding place
that doesn't tremble, when your depths stir.
Yet everything that touches you or me
takes us together like a bow's stroke
that from two strings draws one voice.
Across what instrument are we stretched?
And what player holds us in his hand?
O sweet song.
What if I could make you doubt
Every thought you've ever had?
What if I could make you doubt
Every word you've ever said?
I could make you stutter,
And speak maybe's not sure's and I thinks.
I could make you hold your breath,
And count every time your eye blinks.
Your every step would falter
At the terror of going outside.
Your face would twitch at a question
Wishing it could just hide.
"What reason could there be?"
You ask me now with doubt.
Beacause I'm tired of uncertainty,
And whispering when I'd rather shout.
Spithead likes to walk our pet crocidile with me. It gives us time to talk and enjoy nature. He usually asks me, "How's your writing going?", and I usually say, "It's not.". I hate answering like that because he's so supportive. I wish I were different. I think about writing a lot, but I don't have the hootspa to actually write it down. What I have written usually disapoints or disgusts me. Spithead would tell you otherwise, but he's my brother. Thats not to say he's dishonest with me. No, he's a great critic.
My biggest problem is that I can't keep anything going. I've got a ton of beginning, middles and ends but none of them fit together. Or continue on by themselves. I sometimes think the reason I have a hard time writing is my lack of "college education". But haven't there been loads of authors that were genius' without extra schooling? My trouble is with my lack of confidence and motivation. Where does one purchase these? I've prayed many times to be blessed with them, but Lord you obviously said no or not yet. Moving right along.........
Currently reading an early reviewer for LibraryThing called Dracula's Guest. Very interesting, its short stories of the very first, or beginnnings of, vampire stories. Before Bram Stoker and Stephenie Meyer. Also reading Stardust by Neil Gaiman and Charles Vess. Beautiful book with lovely pictures and an original story. Spithead got it for me from the library. Also reading poetry bur Rainer Maria Rilke and William Stafford. I was introduced to Rilke by Maggie Stiefvater's book Shiver. I have a nice sized poetry collection in my personal library. So I was very frustrated when I couldn't find any poems of the two previously mentioned poets in my possesion. And our printer is out of ink, so I had to wait till we went to the Warsaw library.
Didn't have much luck with Mr. William Stafford but did find some books of Rilke's poetry. One of the books is bilingual, so on one side you have the original German and on the other side english. That'd be an interesting way to teach myself German.
I shall leave you now with a poem each by the two poets I've been speaking of.
A Story That Could Be True
By William Stafford
If you were exchanged in the cradle and
your real mother died
without ever telling the story
then no one knows your name,
and somewhere in the world
your father is lost and needs you
but you are far away.
He can never find
how true you are, how ready.
When the great wind comes
and the robberies of the rain
you stand in the corner shivering.
The people who go by—
you wonder at their calm.
They miss the whisper that runs
any day in your mind,
"Who are you really, wanderer?"—
and the answer you have to give
no matter how dark and cold
the world around you is:
"Maybe I'm a king."
Love Song
By Rainer Maria Rilke
How should I keep my soul
from touching yours? How should I
lift it beyond you toward other things?
Ah, I would gladly shelter it
in darkness with some lost thing,
on some remote unsounding place
that doesn't tremble, when your depths stir.
Yet everything that touches you or me
takes us together like a bow's stroke
that from two strings draws one voice.
Across what instrument are we stretched?
And what player holds us in his hand?
O sweet song.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
With a Beginning
Whats a girl to do,
When she smells like glue?
And all her friends,
Have run away.
There is nothing to do,
And absolutely nothing to say.
Nothing is everything,
And everything is to pray.
Pray for the beginning,
Pray for the end.
Pray that God will someday,
Send you a friend.
Sometimes when I'm talking to a person and they comment on my hair or something I'm wearing it makes me pause. Are you complimenting me because you can't think of what to say? Say anything to fill that awkward silence that is our conversation? Or maybe you are sincere. What if everyone who gave a compliment actually meant the opposite of what they said? "Wow, I love your new hair cut, it's so cute!" -Translates to- " Wow, what an awful hair cut, are you a lesbian now?" Maybe I think about this too much or maybe I just hate compliments. Besides thank you, what do I say? How do I respond? "You like my sneakers! That's awesome! I love that you like my sneakers, I am complete now!" (Note to self- No more exclamation marks)
I am listening to my sisters Eclipse soundtrack. It's a good CD, I love track 4 and 5. Florence and the Machine is my drug of choice currently. When I listen to her sing she makes me want to dance around like a "willow", as they did in the classic film The Trouble With Angels. Right now I am reading Book of a Thousand Days by Shannon Hale. It's wonderful! It has sucked me in and I only stopped reading because my eyes got fuzzy. It is my goal to read all of her books, except The Actor and the Housewife. A friend of mine, with lovely taste in books, said it was disappointing and unlike her other books. We have it on the shelf at the shop but, strange as it may seem, not many people look at the Fiction section. But I love buying them for the shop because often times they have interesting covers.
When she smells like glue?
And all her friends,
Have run away.
There is nothing to do,
And absolutely nothing to say.
Nothing is everything,
And everything is to pray.
Pray for the beginning,
Pray for the end.
Pray that God will someday,
Send you a friend.
Sometimes when I'm talking to a person and they comment on my hair or something I'm wearing it makes me pause. Are you complimenting me because you can't think of what to say? Say anything to fill that awkward silence that is our conversation? Or maybe you are sincere. What if everyone who gave a compliment actually meant the opposite of what they said? "Wow, I love your new hair cut, it's so cute!" -Translates to- " Wow, what an awful hair cut, are you a lesbian now?" Maybe I think about this too much or maybe I just hate compliments. Besides thank you, what do I say? How do I respond? "You like my sneakers! That's awesome! I love that you like my sneakers, I am complete now!" (Note to self- No more exclamation marks)
I am listening to my sisters Eclipse soundtrack. It's a good CD, I love track 4 and 5. Florence and the Machine is my drug of choice currently. When I listen to her sing she makes me want to dance around like a "willow", as they did in the classic film The Trouble With Angels. Right now I am reading Book of a Thousand Days by Shannon Hale. It's wonderful! It has sucked me in and I only stopped reading because my eyes got fuzzy. It is my goal to read all of her books, except The Actor and the Housewife. A friend of mine, with lovely taste in books, said it was disappointing and unlike her other books. We have it on the shelf at the shop but, strange as it may seem, not many people look at the Fiction section. But I love buying them for the shop because often times they have interesting covers.
----Over and Out----
Sunday, July 4, 2010
First and Foremost
My first blog, welcome me to this new age contraption.
I hate when you're getting started on something online and they ask those same awful questions. Favorite Books-Favorite Music-Favorite Movies, and any of the like. Am I the only one who thinks this is frustrating? Yes I do have favorites of these but I hate picking them. What if the others find out I didn't list them as my favorites? Will Little Mermaid and Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants attack me in my sleep? With music its even harder for me to choose. My music tastes involve mood swings and cravings, sort of like a pregnant woman I suppose, not that I would know. And I suppose there is always that pathetic fear that someone will read your profile and curse you for listening to, heaven forbid, Ashlee Simpson or something. Poor girl, I'm not the only one who has used her in this sort of sentence.
Will you only read my blog or acknowledge my existence if I have wicked taste in entertainment? Blah, enough ranting. So I now have a blog, thanks to my brother. Couldn't have done it without him! I am going to use this to motivate myself to write more and get my finished stuff online. Any and all are welcome to read what I have to say, sorry if its not to your liking.
I hate when you're getting started on something online and they ask those same awful questions. Favorite Books-Favorite Music-Favorite Movies, and any of the like. Am I the only one who thinks this is frustrating? Yes I do have favorites of these but I hate picking them. What if the others find out I didn't list them as my favorites? Will Little Mermaid and Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants attack me in my sleep? With music its even harder for me to choose. My music tastes involve mood swings and cravings, sort of like a pregnant woman I suppose, not that I would know. And I suppose there is always that pathetic fear that someone will read your profile and curse you for listening to, heaven forbid, Ashlee Simpson or something. Poor girl, I'm not the only one who has used her in this sort of sentence.
Will you only read my blog or acknowledge my existence if I have wicked taste in entertainment? Blah, enough ranting. So I now have a blog, thanks to my brother. Couldn't have done it without him! I am going to use this to motivate myself to write more and get my finished stuff online. Any and all are welcome to read what I have to say, sorry if its not to your liking.
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