On Growing Up (And the "advice" you hear along the way)

When I was a little girl, I thought the epitome of adultness carrying a purse and wearing shoes, particularly heels, that rang out with a click-clack when walked across the floor. My early purse collection grew whenever I found the chance to add another: picking through my mother's castoffs until I found one that suited my needs, canvas grocery bags left unattended, dolls or other "girly" toys that came with coordinating totes. Whenever we went off for a family outing - to Foster Fields, a nearby farm we frequented; the grocery store; grandma's house for a Sunday food festival - I'd pick a bag from my closet and load up the essentials. These of course were staples of any adult pocketbook: coupons swiped from the automatic dispensers in ShopRite, Legos, plastic imitations of lipstick and nail polish, scraps of paper with To Do lists scrawled on them in crayon. Where I went, my purse went - the only exception being school until I entered the 6th grade, when it was finally acceptable to carry a purse.

As for the shoes, I managed this in a few different ways. The first, of course, was to step into those plastic, pinchy, Disney-princess adorned dress-up kit numbers that slammed the sound of shellack into the floor. God, those things hurt, but as a life-long ballet dancer who went on toe shoes years before she should have, aching, bleeding feet couldn't phase me one bit. To that end, I would sometimes wear my toe shoes around the house under the guise of rehearsing. The firm blocks in the toes created a sound with each step that was satisfactory for my needs. The last way, which I will admit to being embarrassed to write right now, was to sync up my steps with my mother's or aunt's or grandmother's so that each click of their shoes mirrored my soundless steps.

Now that I have my own handbags and heels, these last few years have involved a lot of my planning for the future. Getting excited over graduating college, getting into the real world, working a real job, living in my own place. Whenever anyone trapped me in a conversation about any of the above, I always heard - and perhaps I'm in the wrong tense, as this "advice" hasn't actually stopped coming - that I shouldn't want to grow up so fast and that I should enjoy being young. Truly, the day before my final college class, someone's heartfelt advice to me was this: don't graduate.

Well, okay then. Nevermind the fact that there was nothing I could do about the fact that whether or not I wanted it to be true, I was done with college. But here's my bigger issue:

I appreciate that you're concerned that I'm not savoring my youth or that I'm living for the future so much that the good times may pass me by. But let me assure you, neither is true. I appreciate every day I'm given and make the most of my ability to do things at 22 or 23 that I won't be able to do in a few years - at least, not as easily or without judgement or severe consequences. But that doesn't change the fact that I do and always have looked forward to things that come with full adulthood. And I don't think there's anything wrong with that. I've never lived alone or even out from under my parents' roof, so I can't wait to finally be able to. Yes, yes, I know paying rent sucks and living at home is free and blah blah blah. Doesn't change anything. It also doesn't change the fact that the perks of adulthood (for me, at least) are the only things missing - my own place, a job I enjoy going to (and get paid enough from to afford that place), the freedom to pick whatever damn colors I want for my shower curtain and kitchen dishes. I have all the bores of adulthood - working, deadlines, paying all my bills, being fully responsible for my own actions. Its demanded that I act like an adult and pay my car insurance bills and not eat Funions for dinner. So I can't very well act like I'm a kid, can I? I know better than I did at 16, and I like that. I like having a life of responsibility. I just want to have all the pieces of it. If you were to take away my bills and all the bores of adulthood I have to comply with, then sure, maybe I won't be in a hurry to grow up. But until you can do that, don't tell me not to be in a hurry to live my own life the way I'm only half-assedly able to do now. I want the whole package.

Now, at 23, I have all the high-heeled, click-clacky shoes and handbags I want. Well, okay, not all. A girl's hunger for those items can never be fully satisfied, and I'll admit that no matter how big my collections, I'll always see another stiletto or bowler bag I feel like I can't go on breathing without. But the point is, I've always been ready to be a grown up. I've always been ready for the heels and purses, and I've always been ready for my own home with a soft blue and white bathroom and light-colored couch with warm red and orange accent pieces and a new place for my favorite antique secretary's desk.

So please, stop trying to tell me I don't want to grow up. In fact, don't tell that to anyone who's out of college and living at home who says they can't wait for these things. (I'll grant you this: a 16-year-old wearing more makeup than a drag queen and pretending she knows a thing about last call hook-ups [yeah, I've seen and heard girls like this and wanted to cry] needs to hear how she's better off enjoying the fact that she doesn't need eye cream or control-top panty hose - spout your "advice" off to her all you want.) Maybe it sucks for you and you wish you could trade places with me, to be back living rent-free in your parents' spare room with all the free heat and hot water you can consume. Maybe, you shouldn't advise me not to want to grow up, but rather advise yourself to not take the blessings and freedoms of adulthood that you do have for granted? Either way, trust me, I know what I'm saying. I'm not idealizing the future. I know the challenges I'll face, and I'll be prepared when I face them. Rest assured, I've got the perfect favorite handbag and black peep-toe pumps (sky-high, of course) to get me through adulthood just fine.

Happy Spring!

Happy First Day of Spring! Enjoy today, and tomorrow, and every day.

I love the spring. Even though it's been warmer for the past few weeks and I've already pulled out the flip flops and tank tops, there's something about today being the "Official" first day of spring that brings a new wave of optimism and cheer. The warmth has a LOT to do with it. But also, it's like a renewal of hope and happiness and forward momentum. I love it.

Enjoy some (slightly) spring-themed haikus and then go outside and welcome spring yourselves!

---

I feel a stirring
slight, but certain - YES! Something
beautiful is near


A hopeless flutter,
wings beneath the surface: My
insides beg for you


All these small-town sounds
"Hey!"s, "hah!"s, "stay out of the street!"s
Children welcome Spring


A howl rips through the
suburb, furious winds shake
trees, leaves, roofs, my faith.


The season's first buzz
"Bumble, bumble, come and play!"
Spring bees stretch their wings

Influential or Maybe Just Drunk

Today, my little chicken pies, is a landmark day.

For the first time ever, someone else offered me the chance to mess up their blog with my dirty little words. How fitting that the first one to offer me a guest post is none other than Lazidaisical, a brilliant writer and someone I've come to consider a dear friend over the past few months. There's something sort of magical about her, which is why I absolutely adore collaborating with her. We've brainstormed a bunch of ideas together, one being the Poetic Vandalism Society, and the other being this geniusness she's taken on, #WritingUnderTheInfluence.

Lazidaisical is graciously hosting me over at her place today, with the only stipulation for a guest post being that I write it while drunk. And that's exactly what I did. Oh and that the piece be unedited, she determined, after I sent my piece over (still buzzing). And what happened... Well, you'll have to go pay her a visit to find out.

While you're there, be sure to follow her blog to keep up with her amazing words, and you better follow her on Twitter as well. And since you're hitting "Follow," head over to our Poetic Vandals Twitter and Tumblr to find some more of our words!

A million thanks, Lazidaisical! xx

Quiver

Sighs and screams and waves and rushes and highs and lows and you bring me up and you take me down and I lose my breath and I lose my head and I lose myself and you're lost inside me.

I'm lost in you I've lost my head I can't find my body I can't find the space and my fingers scratch and claw and grab and reach and try and I can't find my way and I'm lost inside you.

I rise and fall and crest and crash and all these things happen when you engrave your touch in me and mark me yours, of course, I'm yours, I'm here again and of course you bring me back to this edge the sharp edge and I'm teetering on it and one whisper and I fall and I'm over the edge and I fall.

Whisper nothing say nothing don't say one word not one word more your voice carries the weight of everything of my heart of my need of my need to let go and let me go and don't let go I'll fall I'll be gone over the edge don't let me go.

I quiver and I shake and you make me quiver and you make me lose my head and I can't lose my head not here not now not this high not when you've brought me up so high look how far the fall is when you have me so high and I'm quivering and you're whispering and it's enough to make me fall.

I'll jump I'll go I'll let go before you can let me go and you'll let me go and I'll die by my own hand, not yours, not yours but yours is the one that brought me here brought me so high and held me so close to the edge and I'm losing my balance and I'm falling.

I'm falling crashing tumbling losing myself because I'm lost where are you you're lost in me and your touch is still here on me falling with me you're falling with me we're tangled and I've taken you down too and there we go and here we go and the end is almost here and I look up and I open my eyes and I see and I see you and you're still here back on earth here on the ground and you're still here.

The high so high it would make me cry and I won't you're still here and you brought me here and your hands your touch your fingers your whisper your taste your tongue your heartbeat and you made all yours mine and my heartbeat matches yours look how we match listen to it it's mine and it's yours and you did this to me.

My eyes close when we're safe but there's no safe I can't be safe when you're so close close enough to engulf me again and engulf me in the fire and fine okay okay I'll do it I'll let go with you again let's go let's get high and go back to the edge maybe once just once maybe just once more.

Take me to Paris

Take me to Paris
Bring me to the edge of the world
Take me to the city of lights
Show me the night sky
Lit with love
And the beams of the tower
Stand beneath them with me
Tell me you love me
Tell me the city pales
When you stand beside me
I'll close my eyes when you kiss me
Beneath the tower
I'll move into you
When you point to the endless night
To show me our limits
Take me to Paris
And let's never come home
Let's live and love in Paris
Over cafe tables and cigarette smoke
We can walk down to the river
And dip our toes in a stream of clear blue
Lay out a blanket and place our hearts
And croissants on the checkerboard squares
I'll wipe the crumbs from your lips
If you promise to keep the ants away
Let's run away to Paris
We can dress in all black
And you can slick back your hair
I'll tumble over the cobblestones in the shoes
That bring my eyes level with yours
And we'll keep that look in our eyes
Of wonder, lust, and wanderlust - best of all
When I seek that look I'll see the lights
The tower lights like beams
Raining over the city, a gift from you
To me
Take me to Paris
And let's never leave
I need to know you in Paris
Imagine me and you in Paris
Can you see it?


---


I'm inexplicably obsessed with Paris this week. Obviously. Just remember that I'm not a poet and I kinda spit this out so you guys would have a reason to come back here because I miss the attention.

unnecessary roughness

I hate you for making my mind race when all I want is quiet and calm.

I hate you for keeping me up all night. It used to be by the tap of your finger or a flick of your tongue. Now it's your absence that keeps me tossing and turning and wondering and weeping. The warmth of your arms was all the blanket I needed and I hate you now for making me feel cold.

I hate you for your secrets whispered into my hopeful ears. For your comfort and your wisdom. For your trust and support. For your understanding. For your knowing.

I hate you for calling me "baby" and for not calling me anything at all.

I hate you for the space on your shoulder where I used to rest my head. Where my lips could reach the soft skin on your neck and my nose could breathe in your scent. Where your muscled arm draped perfectly across me and your fingers danced in circles on the small of my back. Where I could fade into you and not have to hate anything. I hate you for taking it away from me and giving that space on your shoulder to someone else.

I hate you for texting back right away with an emoticon and a term of endearment. I hate you for making me jump whenever my phone buzzed, for the way my heart raced when I used to be able to let myself think it was a message from you.

I hate you for the way you made me need you. I hate you for the way I hungered for you, for the way your skin set fire to mine, for making me insatiable. I hate you for letting me believe your touch was the only one I would ever want to feel. I hate that I used to close my eyes and think of you. I hate you for the way you made my back arch and my toes curl and for the way I labored to make you feel the same way. I hate you because you know every single part of me.

I hate you for making me love that band. I hate you because now I can't listen to a single note without thinking of you. I hate you for leaving me with stale remnants of what used to exist but doesn't anymore. I hate that there is so much that makes me think of you, and I hate that thinking about you is something I'm not supposed to do. I hate you for stealing what was rightfully mine, making it ours, and then making it yours. I hate you for everything you took that you never even wanted.

I hate you for saying you loved me. I hate you for making me wonder now if you meant it then and if you did mean it then, I hate you for making me wonder if you still do. I hate you for never letting me tell you that I loved you too.

I hate you for still being. For still lurking the dark corners of the internet and phone lines and sometimes the sidewalk outside the bar. I hate you for not having the decency to stop existing when We stopped existing. I hate you because I can only avoid thinking of you for so long before you force yourself onto my radar again.

I hate you for everything you are and for everything you do. I hate you for the way you talk, the look on your face when you see me, that stupid tattoo. I hate your car and your ugly shoes and your mother. I hate your greed, I hate your transparency. I hate what you did to me, I hate you for your apologies that meant less then my need to forgive you ever understood.

I hate that I have so much hate because of you.


---


this is pretty rough and choppy and posted mostly on a whim because i feel guilty that i haven't written for you guys in weeks. but it is - or rather will be, once it's cleaned up - part of something bigger and better, so i would *love* your thoughts and feedback. xx

a holiday haiku

a merry day of /

love and laughter: my Christmas /

wish for each of you

happy holidays everyone! i hope you're enjoying this joyous time with the ones you love. best wishes to all of you & your families for a spectacular 2012. xoxo

resolved

happy holidays, you beautiful chickadees. i've missed you so! all my creative energy has been funneled into work lately, as well as some new endeavors my cohorts and i are working hard to get off the ground. you'll see it all soon!

in the spirit of the impending new year's eve extravaganza (which i will be celebrating in san diego this year, for my first time EVER in california, with my amazing friend britania! woot!) i've been thinking a lot about resolutions and what they mean. what do i want from 2012?

i know you're dying to know what my resolutions are. i won't keep you in suspense a moment longer!

1. stop stressing the little things. if you've been with me for a while, you know that i tend to be ruled by my emotions. i get very invested in things and, unfortunately, sometimes things fall apart. and usually this is more damaging to me than it should be. i spend a lot of time worrying about how other people can possible do the things they do, instead of thinking about how i can do better. so, i'm hoping in the new year to stop stressing little things beyond my control and be more... i suppose, open to change.

2. keep learning. i recently had a conversation with a friend of mine about the things i miss about college. he'll be graduating in a few months and i remember being where he was: hearing everyone tell me what i'm going to miss about school, and instead saying "you have no idea what you're talking about, i can't wait to graduate!" well, true story: there's tons i miss about college. mostly, i miss knowing that every single time i walked into class i would learn something new. that was the great thing about being an english major. with every text you discuss, you're learning more than just literature. art is a product of its era, and i found a history or economics or science or sociological or whatever lesson in every class. it was great. i love learning, i love knowledge, i love education. i haven't exactly stopped learning since i graduated, but i'm going to reaffirm my commitment to my personal education and resolve to never lose my student-hood in 2012. and to keep making up words.

3. believe in the universe. you guys have heard me wax poetic about the universe and its plan and its power before. sometimes, i forget about that - usually when times are particularly hard. but i do believe, wholeheartedly, that there is a plan for me and it's up to me, and only me, to be open to it. to allow the universe's plan to show itself through the plans i have for myself. to have faith that i'm on the right track and that hiccups and road blocks are part of the plan. i could write a lot more about this, but i won't. not right now. my head hurts and i have to get in the shower asap.

4. learn to let go. this one sort of ties into 1 and 3. as i've said, i am ruled by my emotions which, for some reason or another - i'll blame my genetic makeup, because that's the easy thing to do - seem to be much more intense than a lot of other people's. i get deeply invested in things i shouldn't care about so much. mainly people. i love too hard. i'm not trying to be obnoxious with that - it's just the truth. but, like i said, things fall apart. and people do mean things. and i'm no exception - i've done mean things. i think the difference is the spirit in which you do them. another thought for another day. but anyway, in 2012, i'm going to try my hardest to let go of the things that are bad for me - the people who don't treat me well, and the grudges i hold against people that do more harm to me than anyone else.

i have this very foolish idea in my head that blogging this will somehow ensure i stick to my resolutions. but that's obviously a load of crap because look how much i've started here and never finished - shamelessness, dave & lex, & sycamore street, to only name less than half of the things I've abandoned on this blog. but i think i'm finally doing something right with my resolutions. and i must say, i can't take all the credit for my own new-found maturity (is that what this is? you can see why i'd have trouble identifying such a thing...). it's partially due to my friend random girl, who y'all should get to know if you haven't yet. a few of her responses to reverb11 have encouraged me to look back at this past year and really see what parts of it i want to bring with me into 2012, and which parts are better left in the past.

I have this tendency every new years eve to say, loosely paraphrasing of course, "fuck this past year". (by "loosing paraphrasing," i mean "say verbatim.") but that's like throwing the baby out with the bath water, no? surely bad things happen every year. but good things happen too.

and so, if i still have your attention - and even if i don't, because it's my blog and i can ramble if I want to - im not going to totally dismiss 2011, as i am normally inclined to at year's end. a lot of truly wonderful things happened this year that I'll share with you.

• graduated college
• landed my first (and second) real, professional writing gigs. i'm writing for a living, guys. i'm 22 and i'm doing what i want with my life. WHAT THE WHAT
• nurtured some friendships well and allowed them to truly blossom, realizing how lucky i am to have such amazing people in my corner
• paid off my car. this was a biggie for me. got out of debt!
• switched my college major in the nick of time, so that i could escape more debt and a lot of regret. i finally listened to the inner voice that was screaming at me and i couldn't be happier with the outcome
• moved out of the town i've lived in for over 20 years, the town i was raised in, the town i became bored to death and jaded as hell in. that's a lot to accomplish in a north jersey suburb. but i needed to leave, and i did. i didn't go to where i want to be, but i left, and i'm on my way to the next stop, where i intend to stick around for a while. intentional vagueness, for the win!
• finally started to understand why some people were put in my path - even if they're not coming into 2012 with me

there's more, of course. but like i said, need to get in the shower asap.

i think my tendency to add such value to new years is not so much my need to say "good riddance" to the year just past as it is my need to hurry in the new year. january just has this trigger for so many of us. where we feel like we truly can start fresh and do things right where we messed up last year. like new opportunities and chances are lurking around every corner, and the calendar year is the only thing keeping them in hiding. maybe it's blind optimism.

but for me, in 2012, i know it's so much more than that. amazing things truly are just around the corner for me. i know this, because for the past few months i've been making them happen. i can't wait to see them unfold so very soon.

my warmest, most sincere wishes to all of you beautiful, amazing people for a happy holiday season. celebrate every moment. here's to a fantastic 2012 that i can't wait to spend with you.

it's not haikuesday

it's not haikuesday
but i miss you chickadees
so here are some words

---

muse, flown away to
grace another more worthy
i'll be here, waiting.

---

this moment we're in,
i already miss. touch me,
pretend it's for keeps.

---

a slow dance on a
starry night. i'll be waiting
next to her in white

---

i hid them well, my
honest words - at the bottom
of this empty glass

---

words etched, then erased
i take them back. they weren't
good enough for you

---

all sense is lost now
my fingers glide aimlessly
these lines lie to you

---

this isn't real

i'm not going to write a thanksgiving post.

i'm actually barely going to write a post at all.

i want to, believe me.

mostly because i haven't put new words up here in about a week and i want you to have new words to read so you can keep falling in love with me to the point of no return so you'll never, ever, ever leave me and i can finally feel validated because a few people who live in my computer love me.

i have abandonment issues. and intimacy issues. and issues with small spaces and big messes, but that's besides the point.

the point is, i have no point right now.

i'm not going to be all depress-y though. that's not what i mean.

what i mean is that i've been really busy lately. see, i'm a planner. that's what i do. i think i talked about that with you guys already? i think it's here somewhere. but i'm not sure so whatever. anyway, i plan the future very thoroughly. which is stupid, because you know the expression "if you want to make god laugh, just tell him your plan"? well, if you haven't, you just did. and i know that to be true. there are certain things you just can't plan for.

but that doesn't stop me. i have plans for what i'm doing, where i'm going, work and career stuff, moving out stuff, big stuff and little stuff. the thing is, i know there's a good chance that i'll have to re-write my plan every few weeks or months. but i feel better just knowing that i have something in place. it gives me a plan to write my next plan off of, i guess. it just gives me a sense of comfort. so get the hell off my back about it!

where was i going with this again?

oh right. well, i'm planning to make some big moves in 2012 and i'm spending a lot of my time right now prepping them, planning them, and aligning the stars just perfectly to make them happen.

i'm also going on dates, which, if you know me, your jaw is probably on the floor right now. if you don't know me, here's why:
1. i'm a terrible dater. i actually hate dinner dates. i don't want a guy to pick me up and i rarely want a second date. it's not because i'm a feminist or picky or a bitch, it's because i
2. don't do relationships. it's been years since i've officially been someone's girlfriend, and i prefer it that way. what i've had in the meantime is a series of intense, passionate, delicious flings that satisfy everything i want at the current moment but don't do what that last relationship did to me: derail my path, distract me from my goals, and make me feel bad about wanting to get my own life right first before getting wifed up. and
3. i haven't been tweeting incessantly about it. my irl friends basically never even have to ask me how i'm doing or what i've been up to because i pretty much live-tweet my life and leave little to the imagination. basically, if you're supposed to know, you get what's going on by my tweets. but i've kept my tweets pretty tame lately - there was a time where anyone of my followers could probably pinpoint to the hour the last time i'd gotten down. i don't know why i do that. (okay, that's a lie. part of the reason is because i like attention. i didn't say that out loud for a long time but now i do because fuck it, whatever. there are worse traits about me than the fact that i like attention. and it stands to reason, because i was on stage for the first time when i was 3 years old. nurture, amirite?)
4. i don't even want to date anyone seriously. see #2. also, i'm moving again in a few months and i don't need anything to make me not want to go.

i totally forgot the point of this post. and there's no way i'm going back to read the beginning. i'm in far too deep now, i'm just gonna keep going.

so that's basically what's going on with me. i'm working a lot and finding new things occupying my time. i'm almost glad i'm so busy that i can't worry about the hell that will be tomorrow, thanksgiving day, with my dad's family. if you've been with me for a while, you know that i sort of had a falling out with my dad a few months ago. i haven't seen him and have barely spoken to him since august, and i know that while all i want is an apology and an admission of guilt, i'll never get it and instead will sit across from him at the dinner table and silently replay what happened in my head while i resist the urge to stand up on the table and reveal all the things my family pretends aren't real. that's what these people need, i think. for someone to make them cut the shit and actually talk about how fucked up we all are so we can finally face it and stop pretending we aren't a bunch of very flawed people. if i weren't sure it would give my grandmother a stroke, i might do that tomorrow. but i won't.

happy thanksgiving, have a tangent. ack.

so turns out i had a few words for you guys. basically the shittiest, saddest update ever. hopefully i'll get back in the groove in the next few days and give y'all some quality.

i don't want to write about all the things i'm thankful for, because i don't want you to feel like you have to read the things that might spill out of me in the very, very, very emotionally charged next 24 hours if i have unlimited space. so follow me on twitter, if you aren't already, if you're dying to know what i'm saying thanks for.

i'll save you the trouble and just give you one big one here:

i'm thankful that i'm able to write.
i'm thankful for you, for wanting to read it. for reading it and for showing me support.

happy thanksgiving to all you chickadees. luff yew.

CHEESE!

Jemma was up to her waist in the murky water. She was never the type to care about things like mud and dirt, though, or that her pink polka-dot galoshes were soaked through and that her toes squished in her socks. Her bubble-gum smile stretched from ear to ear and each leap in and out of the Memorial Park pond was punctuated by a squeal of delight. Jemma jumped about in the water, shallow enough around the edges for her to wade in, and was just happy to be spending the day alone with her dad.

Louis watched his daughter carefully through his smudgy glasses. At only four, Jemma had more intelligence and heart and compassion and kindness than any other person Louis had ever met. He wondered how that could be, and if he had any right taking the credit. Jemma's mother, Adrienne, certainly must have been the one responsible for the way their daughter had turned out.

Louis pondered this as he leaned back on the park bench and sifted through the backpack they'd brought. Water bottles, graham crackers, jelly beans, baby wipes, band-aids, a hair tie for Jemma's blazing red curls. Finally, he located their old Canon camera and started tracking through the pictures it held. Photos of Addie dancing with Jemma in their living room, belting out lyrics of Jemma's favorite, Hannah Montana. Snapshots of his two favorite girls snoozing on the couch. The big family camping trip from the past summer, when Jemma had her first s'more and lobbied unsuccessfully for her own "big girl" tent. The last photos, the most recent ones, Louis couldn't bear to flip through. Of Addie, so skinny and sallow, the crooked wig poorly hiding the tell-tale sign of the disease that stole her away.

Just as Louis switched the camera mode to capture the image of his beautiful daughter in this moment, he felt the curious poke of her little fingers on the top of his knee. "Daddy?"

"Yes, baby?" Louis answered as he placed the camera next to him and hoisted Jemma into his lap.

"I haffa question."

"I have an answer." Louis smiled. Jemma always had a question, and he wasn't sure which he feared more: the day she would stop asking, or the day he would run out of answers for her.

"When the fish swim, they go SO FAST! And the ducks float really fast too. And the birds are the fastest! Do you see how fast those guys FLY!?"

Louis chuckled, "They sure are fast, huh? But what's your question baby?"

"Why don't the turtles go fast too? Don't they like to be quick like the other animals? The silly turtles crawl and they just go so slow." Jemma deepened her voice and dragged out the last two words; Louis couldn't help but smile at his clever little girl. "You know, Daddy?"

"You're right honey. The turtles go a lot slower than the other animals. But I don't think they're silly. I think they might just be the smartest animals of all!"

"But they can never win a race going that slow!"

"Well, what if the turtles aren't trying to win the race? Maybe they just like spending time with their friends. And the slower they move along, the more time they have to spend with their mommy and daddy and brother and sister turtles." As Louis answered his daughter, he realized what he was trying to get her to understand.

"Ohhhhhhh," Jemma replied, and for just a moment, until the next question about the difference between the yellow and white dandelions popped into her head, everything was rational and right in her little world. Louis raised the camera in front of them to freeze forever that moment in time.

"Say cheese!" he instructed.

"CHEEEEEEEEESE!"


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For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Lilu challenged me with "all silly turtles crawl" and I challenged The Drama Mama with "close your eyes and reach your left hand out. the first thing you touch - write a story about it. fiction or non".

I loved writing this one, so thanks Lilu, my darling! Make sure you guys all scoot over and see the rest of this week's IndieInk Challenge responses!

I Promise

This post is more for me and the theoretical people it's addressed to than you guys. But I thought I'd post it because, well, this is my blog and I wanted to. And maybe my readers who are already mommies and daddies will have something to say about it. xx



 
To my future children,

You may or may not know by now that your mother has a tendency to be overdramatic and a wee bit hysterical sometimes. But this letter to you, my babies, was not born from overdramatics or hysteria. When I wrote this letter to you, the news media was primarily concerned with a highly publicized case of criminal behavior against children that had me reeling from the very first headline. I was physically ill each time I thought of this tragedy, and even more so when I stopped to think about how often this behavior occurs outside of the media's glaring eye. The situation, my darlings, was that innocent young children, much like yourselves, were hurt by someone they assumed to be trustworthy in a most heinous, violent, disgusting, and traumatic manner. They were raped. And all over the world, children and adults become victims of rape.

I wish I didn't have to say that word to you. I wish that word didn't exist. I wish that behavior didn't exist. I wish that the world I brought you beautiful people into were not such a harsh and scary world that rape must even be defined. I wish that I could tell you the scariest thing you'll ever witness is the sight of your mother in the morning without makeup. I wish that I could tell you that it's okay to trust everyone you meet and that nobody out there in this big, bright world will ever even think of being anything but kind, generous, and helpful to you.

But I can't do that.

My babies.

No matter how badly I wish these things for you, for us, for our family, I can't change reality. Believe me, if I could, I would. I would move mountains for you. I would lasso the sun and hang it above your heads so you never have to know cold or darkness. I would do anything for you.  And I wish making this world a safe and beautiful place for you were as easy as casting my wishes on shooting stars.

My loves.

I can't change the world for you. But I can make a promise to you.

I promise that I will do everything within my power to keep you from feeling pain. I promise that I will love you every second that you exist, and every second after. I promise I will make you feel safe and loved and protected. I promise I will listen to you. I promise I will be around. I promise I will never leave you. I promise I will never turn away from my duties to you. I promise that if you are ever afraid, you can come and tell me. I promise that you can safely tell me all your secrets. I promise I will never judge you. I promise I will never make you feel badly about yourselves. I promise that I will protect you at every cost.

I promise I will hang your drawings on the walls and carry your portraits in my purse. I promise to laugh at your jokes and applaud your accomplishments. I promise to give you everything you need. I promise to teach you how to drive a car and how to be loved.

I promise that if anyone ever hurts you, I will make it stop.

I promise to spend time with you. I promise to listen to your stories and play soccer and have tea parties with you. I promise to teach you how to love and respect yourself. I promise to teach you how to make sure you are treated well. I promise to be fair.

I promise that I will warn you that life will not always be as fair to you as your mother will. I promise to prepare you as best I can for the dangers out there that will threaten your safety and sanity. I promise to tell you the things you need to know about heartbreak. I promise to tell you that there will be moments of sadness and fear in your lives, but I promise I will do my very best to teach you how to be strong and survive. I promise I will do everything I can to give you tools to protect yourselves when you feel like you no longer need me. I promise that a time will come when you feel like you no longer need me. I promise that when that time comes, I will still be here in case you change your mind. I promise you that a time will come when you will change your mind. I promise I won't say "I told you so".

I promise I will make a mistake or two. I promise there will be times where I don't know the right answers, or don't know how to make everything better. I promise there will be times where you think that I just don't understand and have never felt the way you do. I promise you won't always like me or the choices I make for you. I promise we will get angry with each other. I promise that it is possible to love someone with all of your insides, no matter how angry you are with them. I promise that even when I make a mistake, I will still be trying to be the best mother I can be for you. I promise I will be trying to protect you. I promise I will always be thinking of what the best thing in the world is for you.

I promise that I will love you every second of every day until the world ends. I promise that I will tell you I love you until you are sick of hearing it, and I promise I still wont stop.

Forever,
Your mother

sugar high

It's those sentiments so sweet I can feel the stickiness on my tongue, my fingers, I can feel the sugar carving holes in my teeth. The "love you, baby"s and the "you're perfect"s and the "I need you"s are drizzled in honey and dusted with that powdery white confectioner's sugar.

To any normal person who craves that sweetness, this sugar is delectable. They lick their lips to get just another little taste and suck on their fingertips to savor every last grain. They open their mouths to the sky for those gumdrop raindrops.

But to me, it's poison. The sweetness is more toxic than tasty. Save your sugar for the girls with glassy pink lips and French-manicured nails and mystic tans in December. Girls like me want nothing to do with those candy-coated nothings mumbled into a receiver or punched into a keyboard or whispered into a ticklish ear. I have no use for something uttered with as much ease as a "hello" or a "goodbye".

I'd much rather the "goodbye," in fact, if that's what you mean to say. The goodbye is a familiar taste, and while sour, I know there'll be no sugar crash. No impossible high, no inevitable crash. You can't call it a crash when you know it's coming. When you're already so low that you can see the bottom. When you know better than to fly as high as that sticky-sweet sugar will take you - but only for a moment. The sour, the bitter, I'll take. and I'll enjoy it, believe me, I will. But the candy? That's what kills.


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i came back to the indie ink challenge this week, and challenged i was! i'm not crazy about this, but it's true and i hope i did my prompt some justice. :)

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Chaos Mandy challenged me with "the candy will kill you" and I challenged Amanda with "the comforts of home".

show me love

when you receive anything from someone, it's important to consider the source.

i mean, a compliment on your writing, for example, means a whole lot more when it comes from someone who actually knows good writing, has the talent themselves, as opposed to from someone who thinks stephenie meyer has a way with words.

and i'd much prefer advice regarding, say, staying in shape from someone who's body and lifestyle reflects that they know what they're talking about.

you feel me?

so to receive a compliment about my fuckableness (that's right, i'm making up words, deal. it's my blog.) from someone truly lust-worthy and delicious herself? well, i'm blushing head to toe.

my lovergirl, better known to most of you folks as random girl, has professed that my top-secret mission to seduce her with my words and my body have been successful ;) and awarded me with this:

so, um, how psyched am i? only totally! mission: accomplished. i'm a bangable blogger. THAT IS THE DREAM.

it is with the utmost gratitude and the most inflated of egos that i (not-so-) humbly accept the BILF award. thank you, my darling randy, for bestowing such a high honor upon me.

and to fulfill my duties, i'll pass this along to a few truly BILF-worthy bloggers with whom i would love to share seven or more minutes in heaven:

lazidaisical. my partner in crime and co-creator of the poetic vandalism society. owner of a seriously delicious wardrobe that i would love to steal borrow. she unabashedly talks about love and sex and does so with the perfect words. total BILF material.

alison of pretty girls don't eat because, let me tell you, this one doesn't shy away from the tough stuff. she's honest and brave and open and has a beautiful way with words. sexy, indeed.

there are other very, very deserving recipients of this award out there, but it seems randy has beat me to the punch and awarded them already. and, also, you should all know i love you dearly anyway. if i'm taking the time to read your blogs, chances are i'd wanna get down.

sailed 'ships

when i was in college, my friends were filmmakers. they were writers. they were poets, screenwriters. they were artists. they painted, they drew, they sculpted. they pored over 1950s french and italian cinema. they were avant-garde and pretentious, but that was okay. they were passionate. they cared about things outside themselves, outside our campus, outsides our shared moments in student lounges and dingy dorms.

we talked about politics and political implications. we discussed philosophers and famous thinkers and applied their theories to our own. we shared our own theories, laughed over their ridiculousness, the ridiculousness of it all. we wore all black and chain-smoked and snuck onto forbidden property and nearly got arrested and laughed over it. we showed each other our skeletons. talked about drugs and sex like you talk about the weather. we didn't judge. we loved each other for every flaw.

we wore ridiculous outfits and the girls wore blue eyeshadow. i wore legwarmers and thigh-high socks over leggings. the boys wore black pea coats, all of them. the girls wore pigtails and three dollar t-shirts with (sometimes faux) designer bags. the boys wore greasy hair and thousand dollar cameras around their necks. we scribbled lyrics and quotes on our chuck taylors and our notebooks and shared them as easily as we shared cigarettes and dorm room extra long twin beds.

we slipped in and out of varying states of awareness, alone but never abandoning each other through each drift. we became well acquainted with distance and separation but knew reunions just as well. we would leave and return to each other's waiting arms and a kiss and a drink made it all better. we were fluid, and that fluidity led us to static states of wonder and wonderlust.

we traded american spirits and marlboro lights in exchange for advice and paper-editing and articles across picnic tables while the acoustic guitar wailed in pain. until the imposter returned the instrument to its true owner, that is. then soft hums would drift across the breeze and encircle our table of perfect misfits in a moment that could never be disturbed. we remembered who we had been before we got there and never felt afraid to reveal a single story, a single hit, sip, kiss, screw, tear. and we forgave each other for everything we had ever been, ever would be.

i still keep in touch with these friends. not nearly as much as i used to, and the time between each meeting stretches longer and longer each time. we graduated, so we had to grow up and move on and button up a little bit. i like to hope that wherever they are, whoever they're with, they're having these same conversations and wearing the same clothes and struggling for the same cause. that they're only buttoned up when they have to be. that they don't want to be.

as for me? i still wear blue eyeshadow and legwarmers and patterned thigh-high socks over leggings and study for the sake of learning something new. i'm still passionate. i'm still writing. but most people i know wear suits and loafers and skirts hemmed below the knee and three-inch black pumps and wrist watches and talk about their days at work and their dinner plans for friday night and would never trespass or consider fluidity or talk politics in public or remember anything they knew about descarte or delaney or share that they once tried e or fell into a hole or sat in a dark room and felt totally okay with it or shared a bed with someone less than perfect.

i guess we're just different.

on new beginnings

it's november first.

you know what happens in november?

it gets cold. well, it's supposed to start getting cold in november. but apparently, in 2011 in new jersey, it gets cold and it snows in october. that was really cool. hah. no pun intended. but, now that it is november, i can't shriek about how unacceptable it is that it's so cold out because it's actually supposed to be. i fucking hate the cold.

boys grow their beards out as a part of "no shave november" or "brovember" or "manvember," as i've heard it called - the last one makes no fucking sense and you should stop saying it. as far as i know, there's no real justification for this act. i've heard some people proclaim it has something to do with raising awareness for prostate cancer or something like that, which is about as logical as that facebook meme a few years back that had us girls discussing where we put our purses as a means to raise awareness for breast cancer. i mean, come on people. stop being ridiculous. hopefully now that i'm out of college i won't have to deal with having my thighs face scraped raw by a guy's unkempt beard while we're gettin' down. but since guys seem to maintain the same level of idiocy well after college, i'm not very hopeful.

nanowrimo stars in november. well, it ends in november too. i've spent quite a few months bickering with myself about whether or not i would participate in nanowrimo for the first time this year. i so, so want(ed) to, but i'm not. and, as i tweeted yesterday, i'll spend the next year regretting it. but, if i had decided to participate, i would have been so stressed out because i don't have an outline, i barely even have an idea, and i just can't go into something so important and wonderful and amazing without a better level of preparation. but you guys, you wonderful writer friends of mine, who are giving this thing a go - i wish you the best of luck. some of you are returning for another year, and some of you are just starting for the very first time. you guys are great and i'll be cheering for you so hard. this year i'm definitely better off on the sidelines with my pom-poms and i can't wait to see how much ass you all kick. #goteamgo

thanksgiving comes this month. though thanksgiving is my least favorite holiday, i always anticipate it's arrival. thanksgiving means the holiday season is here, and even though i hate the cold, i love love love that time of year. i love the christmas lights, i love the way some people seem to just be a little bit happier and more cheerful and, dare i say, a little more grateful. i love the feeling of family. i love the peppermint mochas and gingerbread lattes at starbucks. i love searching for the perfect gifts for the people i love and anticipating the looks on their faces when they open them. i love scarves and boots and oversized hoodies that go perfectly with a classic movie and a cup of tea. speaking of tea, i have to go buy another box of constant comment - christmas in a cup, i tell ya.

but i'm getting ahead of myself. it's only november.

the point is, it is the first of a new month, and that's always a good time for new beginnings. it's a great time to look ahead and get excited about what the new month will bring, and to enjoy every little blessing that comes with each day. happy november, my darlings.

mixed messages

haikuesday has come to bless us once again, and i'm celebrating with a whole crap load of different tones. if you thought i was crazy, or emotionally imbalanced, or a person who never. forgets. anything. ever.... well, congratulations, you were right! welcome to my complicated psyche. although, i guess, that invitation was accepted when you first started trolling around here. which for most of you was before this post. ah, look, i've gone and gotten myself off on a tangent again. let me start over.


here are some haikus i wrote for you chickadees today. i love you!


---

curious kisses,
apprehensive touches;
the thrill of things to come

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indignant silence
the prelude to a blowback
you get what you give

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he pulses in her
her breathy wails reach heaven
delicious disgust

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i can't wait for the
day when i can't remember
how you made me feel

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batting lashes, a
slip of the tongue, what have we
gotten into now?

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things i'll never mean:
"he was too much"; "i need you";
"i know what do to"

---

i hate it when you
prove me right when all I want
was to have been wrong

momentous

there's this beautiful moment of clarity that comes when i walk through that door. this sudden rush of calm and peace that somehow mingles with excitement and anticipation. it almost feels contradictory, how my mind can be at rest and relax while my heart begins to race and my blood pumps ever faster through my veins. it's a moment where my worries are washed away, and there's nothing to think about except for the intense exhilaration i feel and how remarkably content i am to be where i am, with the person i am there with.

the moment when i see the face i've longed to see, finally. it doesn't matter if it's been days or months or hours. when our eyes finally meet, everything else vanishes. everything that kept us apart and whatever will keep us apart in the future, gone. it is the moment i can fully live in the now. i don't want to be anywhere but here, and for once, i'm able to stay in the present, this beautiful present, uninfected by the trials and woes of every other moment.

it's almost unsettling how a person can feel so much in so small a moment. so much relief and joy and want. knowing you're only inches away from the only thing you crave? i'm suddenly caught up in a frenzy of trying to command patience and decorum while my insides scream for me to end the craving and take what's mine.

there finally comes a moment when there's no more to be said; no words can do justice to what we're feeling. the moment when the wanting stops, the limit is reached, the need is feral, and there's nowhere left to go but to that perfect place, that place where rules are for suckers and the reward is imminent. the moment when the heat is unbearable, hellacious but heavenly at the same time. the moment when your heart skips a beat, then picks up pace faster and faster and faster until you fear it will thunder right out of your chest. the moment where your breath is staccato and broken and a measure of your desire.

my favorite moment is when my body reacts to the mix of the most powerful sensations on earth. when i can't find the line between pleasure and pain, and the two become an intense feeling that has no name, and all i know is that i feel like i'll die if it ever ends. the moment where logic and knowledge and preservation of self are all lost, where even my name is forgotten and all i know is wanting more of this feeling. the moment when he knows me better than i know myself, where his heat makes me burn in every possible way, ignites my own heat and we brand ourselves into each other.

there are these moments that feel so brief once they're gone, though you've invested great care to be sure they'd last forever. the moments you can't justify with language, that you remember with your senses of touch and taste. these moments. these moments. these moments i commit to memory so i never have to live outside of them.

keeping faith

is it possible to believe in fate, or destiny, or whatever you want to call it, and free will - choosing your path - at the same time? i'm not a terribly religious person, though i do believe in god, but i don't subscribe to any religion in particular. so this isn't a religious post. but i do know that there's a whole universe that is bigger than me, with a plan all of its own.

i want to trust I’m making choices for my life, my future, according to my own beliefs and what i know is right. a lot of blood, sweat, and tears - not to mention extensive planning and rewriting of said plan - go into every major decision i make. career stuff, where to live, the people in my life, the next step. i'm a pretty spontaneous person in day-to-day life, and usually act on whims when it comes to most daily decisions. but when we're talking about something that i have to plan for, i literally obsess over the decision until i'm certain i've come up with the right course of action. i can't believe that there's no point in these processes and that the choices i'm making aren't really mine.

but then on the other hand, there are too many signs of serendipity in this life to ignore. if there were only a few, i'd say sure, they're coincidence. but, i'm not 100% sure i believe in coincidence at all. i mean, things like, when someone asks you if you've seen or heard of something, and you haven't, but then after your friend tells you about it, you start hearing about it or seeing it everywhere. you know what i'm talking about. or, and i'll use my friend as an example here: long story short, she moved away from our home state to a dreaded land called ohio in the name of a relationship. said relationship ended, and she found herself in a new one. in new relationship, her live-in significant other was offered a job opportunity in another state, a state my friend has been wanting to move to in order to attend grad school. just like that, perfect opportunity to move where she always wanted to be. you couldn't plan that shit any better if you tried! it's things like that that make me know there's a path we follow, unknowingly, that leads us where we need to go. and I can’t believe that all i’ve been through, and the crazy paths i’ve been down, haven’t been for a purpose. the people in my life, the places i've been, the experiences i've had, must be stepping stones to lead me to where i need to be, to the people i need to know. if the pain and chaos i’ve endured hasn’t been part of the universe’s plan to teach me what i need to know or to get me to the right place, at the right time…. well, i just can’t believe that.

i think of dumb things like choosing to go to this place instead of that place, order this instead of that, wear this instead of that - all these little decisions that really are inconsequential, in the grand scheme of things, but have lead to me either learning something new or meeting someone or seeing someone i haven't seen in a while, or whatever the case may be. it can't be all chance.

but - can it? if it's not chance, then what of the decisions i actively sweat and cry over, to make sure they're absolutely right? where's the universe then? is it the universe's influence making me sit down to figure it out?

i know the universe has a plan, and maybe free will is part of it. maybe that’s what makes it possible - our choices to be open to the universe’s plan are what allow it to work.

(these are the kinds of things i think about at length. so this may help you understand a little bit why i obsessively make lists and plans when trying to make a big decision. my mom says it's because my childhood was kind of unstable and unpredictable, so it's an internal self-defense mechanism to make sure i don't have to live like that again. she has a point.)

"never forget that on any day, you could step out the front door, and your whole life could change forever.  you see the Universe has a plan, kids, and that plan is always in motion.  a butterfly flaps its wings, and it starts to rain.  it's a scary thought, but it's also kind of wonderful.  all these little parts of the machine constantly working... making sure that you end up exactly where you're supposed to be, exactly when you're supposed to be there.  the right place.  at the right time." -himym
( quoted #14 )

an open letter to my favorite source of open letters

dear thought catalog,

this conversation is a long time coming. before i go any further, i just want you to know - this is going to hurt me more than it's going to hurt you. i can say that with 100% certainty. that doesn't make it any easier for me to say these things to you. believe me, i wish i didn't have to. but we've reached a crossroads and now, unfortunately, i have no other choice.

what a whirlwind romance we've had. you had me at hello. you swept me off of my feet and in a moment, i was yours. immediately, i didn't understand how i had ever lived without you. you were my saving grace, my green light, my hero.

i think we need to spend some time apart. don't get me wrong. i love you to the end of the earth and back. you bring me constant joy and happiness. you make me think. you force me to reflect on things and face truths about myself i otherwise wouldn't have the strength to. you make me laugh. you calm me down when i'm feeling stressed. you say exactly what i'm thinking. you slap me in the face with realities i'm afraid to, but must, face - in a loving way. you have all these insights into my soul, and i can't help but wonder if you have a cheat sheet on my mind. you just get me, tc. you always know the right thing to say, and you're there for me whenever i need you, without fail. all this, and you ask for nothing in return from me. you are, truly, perfect.

but i think it's time for us to start seeing other people, and spending a little less time together. i wish it didn't have to be this way, but i can't keep neglecting the rest of my life for you. i have a job, you know. and i have deadlines to meet. i have writing to do that has to take place on my computer, which also happens to be where you live. believe me, it will be so hard to be in your neighborhood and not wonder what you're doing, or what you're saying, or if you're thinking of me. but i have to be strong. we have to be strong.

from now on, you have to promise to keep your temptations to yourself. at least until i'm finished with keeping the rest of my life together. i promise to still make some time for you every night, but it simply can't be as much time as we used to spend together.

these words are coming from a place of love. you did nothing wrong. it's me, i swear. people usually lie when they say "it's not you, it's me," but i'm telling you the truth. you are perfect, and in fact, too good for me. i can't handle all your goodness in a mature, healthy way. so this is what we have to do.

stay gold.

love always,
alyssa