didn’t know it

familiar the pain of the unrequited
it’s sting so dull
it’s force uninvited
taking the breath until you no longer feel
clouded eyes see only the heart
weakened by time
it can not be smart
never thinking through things left unsaid
a face that wears tears
realization strikes panic, fears
forever being alone in a crowd of one

delusion bridge

I’ve come to the realization that the little illusion I’ve built out of toothpicks is buckling under the weight of my own delusion. Apparently I kept those rose colored glasses that I thought I threw away ages ago. I’ve been viewing my whatever it is through those damn things for almost a year. What’s the deal here? I liked those. They had a little bling… whatever. Glasses can’t protect you forever. Leave it to my brother to smash them. I’m not even mad at him. A little bitter for the moment but only for the moment. I love him. It seems he’s the only one that can punk me out in just the right way that I don’t want to scream at him, just cry and say ‘I knew that, you just said it out loud for me’. He knows me. He’s my brother.

Nowhere near where I thought he was. I know, I said that myself. That I’m done analyzing it. Sure I am… wait not really. Tears betray what the heart cannot hide. Rose colored glasses aren’t dark enough to hide behind. I think I have to get out from under the bridge of toothpicks. I feel splinters in my head an they don’t feel good. Better than the ones that will hit my heart. Too bad there’s no glasses to shield that.

The Bridge
The Loved Ones…

On the bridge made of stone
Stands a man all alone
The bridge was his motivation
It worked him to the bone
With every nail that he drove, it drove him farther from his own
In his punishing isolation, but the bridge just feels like home

She didn’t feel quite the same
She despised the bridge and who he became
She left in devastation
She left him there in shame

He said, “I don’t understand, this was not part of the plan…”
But it got lost in the translation
Like a castle made of sand

In all the years he’s spent struggling
He’s been haunted at every turn
He fights the fear as he’s growing old
And reminds us in all the he’s learned
That we build and burn


Here I am all alone
On that bridge made of stone
With smothering motivation, I’m working to the bone

In the end it’s what I’ve known
It’s what I hate, but have to show
The bridge is my dedication; the bridge just feels like home

In all the years I’ve been struggling
I’ve been haunted at every turn
I the fear as I’m growing old
And remembering all that I’ve learned
That we build and burn

In all the years he’s spent struggling
He’s been haunted at every turn
(We’ll build and burn)
He fights the fear as he’s growing old
And reminds us in all the he’s learned
That we build and burn


$175 million dollars

sooooo tonight could have been one of those booger flicking nights but it isn’t. I’m enjoying just being. Watching the fantastic eyebrows talk about his race car, seeing the enormous power button on the xbox 360 flicker as halo3 powers down, talking about best ways to rid my parents of their cat that is the bane of their existance, making sandos and veggie packets for the cute boy that will finally say out loud that he likes me… I’m just being. Being a girl that is one of the guys. A girl that is comfortable backing a trailer and wearing stilletos. A girl that likes listening to the boys talk about the stupidity of putting the clutch at the back of the motor as much or more than getting my nails done. A girl that’s as comfortable in a room of guys as I am anywhere. Yeah, tonight… no targets on the wall and I’d say no to the inappropraiate yet handsome guy if he asked. (again). I think I hear my name.

tonight, tonight, wo-oh

tonight has been way gnarly… I’m writing this after the funeral of one of our town’s most beloved bartenders. I’m also writing this after 3 (okay in real people terms 6) shots of Bushmills Irish Whiskey. So be warned my grammar may be waaay off of it’s normal mark. Whatever… This blog is actually not about any of that, it’s about me. I’m at my friend’s house. My friend that I have morphed relationships with over the last three years a couple times. I know I can’t date him and he thinks he knows he can’t date me but for different reasons. He made me feel good tonight. Better than the boy who thinks he does make me feel good – that way. But I said no. Truth reeeeeeallly hard, still said no. I’m not ready to give up on the boy. Okay, There it is.. I’ve been faithful to someone I have no commitment to for 6 months… when there is a fucking hot man that just walked out of the shower. I gotta go.

eating it too

wtf mate? I think I must be an idiot. Wait, I know I’m an idiot. I got hit on by someone available, handsome, successful and entirely inappropriate. I let him because I needed it. I let him because my need to be complimented goes unfilled. I sit here watching the boy I am “dating” play video fucking golf and I could be home in bed. I could be having an intilectual conversation with said inappropriate guy. I could be reading. Hell, I could be picking my fucking nose and trying to hit targets on the wall. But nnoooo, I am watching Tiger Woods 2007 on a ginormous tv with drunk boys discussing the finer points of our father’s tv habits….. what have I done to myself??? What have I signed up for? Oh wait, I remember. I didn’t sign up I just let my idiot shield lapse and not I am laying in my frosting. Maybe I can use that to my advantage. Maybe he’ll lick that off.

I’m a what???

A couple weekends ago my roommate and I hosted a bonfire – “Burnin Down the Toxins” we called it. (If you listened you could hear burnin down the house as well as disco inferno.) We have both been through divorces in the fairly recent past and are both cleaning out the closet of old memories. When you start to look through you find some toxic shit. So we started a “burn box” of photos, journals, wedding books and other randomness that frankly needed to go up in flames. We finally invited a bunch of our girls out to burn their shit too. We packed food and beer and wine and a positive attitude about what would come of the experience. It was fantastic. What a catharsis! Releasing the toxic energy from all that had been done over the past few years, conversing with friends (both old and new) and BURNIN SHIT! Women (and a few brave men I might add) came over to our fire to check it out. We were extolled for our ingenious idea. One lovely lady brought me a beer from her husband who said we were awesome for letting go. I highly recommend this to anyone who needs to get stuff off their chest.

The burn-fest and the hangin out was great fun, but the funniest part of the whole thing came in the form of an extremely intoxicated woman named Heather. Heather’s boyfriend had lost her car keys in the sand (he had also told we were cool earlier, hmmm). I’m thinking this should be a sign considering she could barely stand. So she came by the first time and asked if we could hang out with her dog while she searched for the keys nearby. It was a cool dog. Now I’ll admit. . . we were being silly, some of us more inebriated than others, and made comments about how we’d be pissed. We might have to dump a boy like that. Mind you, we were laughing and smiling and not giving off a negative vibe. Apparently Heather failed to notice this. When she couldn’t find her keys (did I mention it was dark and 10pm???) she came back to where we were and started moving things. She also proceeded to tell us how mean we were and that we were all a bunch of cunts. Yup, cunts. What a fantastic word, cunt. It evokes such emotion. Nearly all of us stared in disbelief that she not only came into our space with a rude attitude, but called us the grand mother of all names. It was seriously comical. She blathered on for a good five minutes and threw out the “c” word again. She never did find her keys – thus we could drive home safely without fear of being mowed down by Heather.

Honestly, I’ve never been called a cunt and walked away smiling. Maybe the toxins were released. I think I want to get it in script on a necklace. To remind me of just how much fun release can be. . . and why boys like fire so much.

bubble bubble toil and what?!

When something breaks your writers block… speak! I just did my taxes for ’06. Can we say wake up call??? Yeah (shaking head in sadness). It’s very defeating to realize that you made 14 thousand dollars less than the year before. Yes that was one four. The $7,000 pay cut doubled because of time lost. Spending time without pay sucks ass! There really is no way around that. The last few days have brought some low blows, I’ll admit it. I lost a whole lot more than money last year (and I’m no – not referring to my hair). The whole year was a melting pot for loss, mixed with sadness and shame, brokenness, smashed feelings and hurt pride. Cooked over the flames of struggle with self defeat. A stew of negative emotion completely different than I’d ever been made to force down my throat. HOWEVER, it wasn’t all bitter. In between bites of sour, foulness were moments of tender friendship, new beginning, the amazing taste of self discovery and the spicy depth of change. I experienced a challenge to my palate, and I’m still recovering.

Saturday I listened to my brother place nails in the coffin of a friendship I held out hope hadn’t died. (pardon me while I generalize about men and forgive those of you that I love that fall outside – well outside of these statements) Sometimes boys (men) don’t realize their words are painful, that what they’re saying, as harmless as it seems is shredding to my heart. The little details of the party they’re going to that you aren’t, in a land of non-closure are making you tear up behind your rock-star shades. Listening to the sober driver arrangements (that was your job of past) is ouchy. Know that the friends that are talking are all people you once made arrangements with – but now don’t have anything to do with you. They’ve chosen someone else to be friends with and not made room for two. (thanks for the latitude) The worst part of all of this isn’t the words, or the party or the arrangements but the lack of closure. It really hit me on this day – such an important day in the life of a friend, a milestone birthday. My tears flowed over the whys I don’t know and the understanding I don’t have and never will. Last year the party was taken care of by me. Arrangements were made, little details taken care of, people safely driven home, so many laughs had. The coffin is closed.

In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends

~MLK, Jr.

I will bury it next time I am with the people who love me most and have shown me the give part of give and take (I didn’t know that went both ways!!!). Those amazing beautiful souls that were waiting to catch my spirit as if fell, fell, fell.

Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.
~Anais Nin

I suppose that stew turning out okay. I keep mixing, and adding and mixing and adding. Eventually it will be just right.

“The Odds”

Maybe we’re the lucky ones
‘Cause we can choose to turn it off
Maybe we’re the lonely ones
‘Cause we decide to shield what’s soft

I’m sure you’ll learn to dance and drink and dream
but you might still feel lost

And I see myself in you my friend
but I would break where you would bend
I’m calling on what you defend and tonight I won’t hold back

Just don’t waste all your years
believing in the fear
You’ll choke out what’s alive and make
What’s wrong be all that’s real

I can see you’re weakened at the seams
And trying to swim upstream but can’t find a way

So here we are again trying to hold back
the tides behind our eyes
lucky ones trying to drink from both the wells we claim are dry
I guess I’ve found some freedom in
embracing every time they pry

We’re both the same
You’re just like me

And when your skin finally sheds
You’ll find your nerves all in shreds
The price may be to keep your heart you’ll lose your head

~the loved ones