(Untitled)

The water is so hot
That  I can see the steam
Rise up and seep through the crack in the door.
I let my robe fall to the ground
As I unclasp my necklace
And let the chain tickle my neck as I rest it
On the counter.

My foot is poised over the steaming water
Pointed, making a graceful. ballet-worthy line
My toes are immersed in water now,
And it burns until my ankle turns red
So I put my other foot in
And plunge the rest of my body
So that it's steaming with the water

I let my hair out of its bun
And it falls down in a soft waterfall of dark-honey curls,
The tips of it disturbing the smooth-as-glass
Surface.
I reach over the side of the ceramic tub,
My arm extending as if it, as the rest of my body,
Is submerged in water, where everything moves
Like molasses

My fingertips search for the pen by the bathmat
Only to find that the journal it was intended for
Is missing.
But it's too late now,
So I stain my hands with black ink
To write a poem

Just Wanna SCREAM

Today I became aware of how unnecessarily complicated everything is.

And then I realized....it doesn't have to be. Or rather, it isn't at all if we decide it's not. 

Why can't people (pick a person, any person), if they both want something desperately from each-other, have to go through trial and torture just to be able to spit it out? I realize that probably didn't make any sense whatsoever, so imma expatiate a bit...

Let's say Cherry wants something from Fudge. If Fudge knew that Cherry wanted this thing, Fudge certainly wouldn't mind giving it away. And let's also say that Fudge wants the exact same thing from Cherry, and Cherry feels the exact same way as Fudge does about giving away this thing. 

Are you following me? 

I guess it wouldn't matter if you weren't, because there's nothing I can do about it. 

BUT ANYHOO!

Why can't Cherry and Fudge just do a little swap-swap of "things?" 

They could...but they aren't. 

I think maybe....possibly that Cherry is a little afraid about how Fudge might feel if she asks for this Thing-That-Must-Not-Be-Named. Maybe she's just afraid of being rejected. Or laughed at. Maybe she just doesn't want to sound stupid. I mean, it's not like Fudge wants to hear it or anything...right..?

12:11 PM

I should probably go to sleep now... The season finale can wait...

UNLESS

What if she really is only his half-sister? Does that mean they can't get married after all?

OHMYGOD

That just reminded me about how that other girl might get married to that French guy who's a really good dancer, but actually a con artist and nobody knows it!! And how her ex-stepson is turning into an alcoholic but it's awkward 'cuz technically she can't tell him what to do since she isn't really married to his dad anymore because she's about to get married to the French-con-artist guy which makes the whole situation really awkward.


You know what?

I think I'm really tired.

I Know You

      I've known you so long, but I can't touch you. I can't get close now, because you prefer to be far. I feel special, compared to all the others. Because I know you, I do. I can't come within an inch, but I do know you. That gives me an edge. I wonder if you have the same conversations with me than you do with them. Do you talk about paisley prints and busted pens with every Sally Stripper and Penny Prostitute? I bet it's just me. But I can't tell with you. I can never tell with you...
      It's strange because I've been entangled in you before. But I'm not soft. I don't melt like butter into all your empty promises. Because I know you. I guess that gives me an edge with you too. But I liked that we were partners in crime (Starsky and Hutch, Turner and Hooch) and that I always had someone to laugh with when there was someone to laugh at. Not the most functional relationship, but a satisfying one. The thing is, I like the things you like. And I know that you're smart. And I know that you didn't used to be this easy. These kinds of things used to mean something to you. I bet none of them know how long it took you to finally put your arm around me. I bet they didn't know how long it once (upon a time) took you to 'fess up to what you really thought. You did it for me. You always did it for me.
      Maybe it's that I think of you just like I did with that Boy From Behind The Water Fountain. Yeah, you know the one. That boy who I thought I loved more than anything in the world and then I realized that saying that stuff made you want to punch in my face with....tree branches? It's not like anyone else would get it. They just don't. Because the fact is: We grew up together. And now you're apart from me and I long for the day when you were the dog and I was the detective.

Don't argue. You know it wasn't the other way around.

A Dream: Part Three

If you haven't read them, Part Two and Part One should be one scroll away!


       Suddenly, I'm in a cupcake shop. Or that's what I think it is, even though they don't seem to have any cupcakes. I'm sitting at a table with my mother, my grandmother's best friend (Barbara), and her boyfriend (Doug). I look around the room. It's lime green on the walls, and the tables are all bright colors. Most are decorated with polka-dots of equally festive colors. At one table is Sarah, a familiar face, and a girl named Madi. Both wave happily. At another table is my grandmother and some unrecognizable person. I think that Paula Craige, Lucia's mother, owns this shop, but I'm not sure. All the people at my table start talking about Barbara Streisand, and my grandmother's friend starts singing some song having to do with roses.
       I feel strangely accomplished, even though every goal I've attempted to meet in this dream has blurred and faded before I could get to it. I never found out what that symbol was, or what the red folder meant that was in Sarah's locker. I didn't even tell anyone what Ryan was up to. The only thing I really accomplished was that I remembered Sarah's name.

A Dream: Part Two

If you haven't already, read Part One before Part Two. Unless you are a unicorn and/or sparkly, in which case you can read them in any order you like, or not at all!

       "S" is no longer standing next to me with the dictionary. The field is darker than it was before, and it has stopped raining, though the air is still moist. I pull my toes in, grabbing the ground, and I realize that I'm barefoot, my feet dirty and wet from the damp grass. I'm standing about thirty feet away from a large cabin. For some reason I know that this is where everyone must be sleeping. There are two tents: one beside the cabin, and one behind me. I think I sleep in the latter. I can't stop thinking about the meaning of the symbol, but my thoughts are quickly interrupted by a voice behind me. I know this boy. His name is Ryan and he towers over me. He's carrying a giant fake tree in his hands. He tells me that the tent beside the cabin belongs to his mother Michele. Then he proceeds to explain that he is going to steal some tickets while everyone is sleeping. "Don't tell anyone." he says. Then he walks away from me, still carrying his fake tree, and starts heading down the road to where, I presume, the "tickets" are. 

       I am conflicted. Do I tell someone about the soon-to-be theft or not? I don't want Ryan to be angry with me, but I don't want him to steal the tickets either. Suddenly there is a crash from inside the cabin. A light turns on in one of the windows and I can see Alex's silhouette, who has spilled goldfish all over his sleeping bag. Then all the lights in the cabin turn on and people are having a pajama party while Alex is laughing hysterically. I just stand where I am, watching and listening as someone turns on club music with heavy bass. Michele comes out of her tent, rolling her eyes. She walks to the cabin and I walk with her. She asks me where Ryan is. I don't exactly lie. "Down the road." I say. She surprises me by replying, "Probably stealing tickets, no doubt." I sigh with relief. I'm glad she already knew so I didn't have to say anything. 

        When we get into the cabin, a surge of sound and music overpowers us. I see "S" in the cabin and her name finally comes to me: Sarah. She walks over to us and tries to tell Michele about Ryan and the tickets. I don't know how she knows, but Michele can't hear her over the noise anyway. "Never mind." I tell her. "She already knows." Sarah and I leave Michele to clean up everybody's mess and go outside. As we emerge into the cool air of the cabin porch, Ryan greets us. "The stealing didn't work out." he says. Sarah rolls her eyes. I laugh. 

For some reason I remember dancing, but then everything blurs. 

A Dream: Part One

      (Written December 30th, 2010) 

      I'm camping, but there are no tents. It's dark outside, and raining. I'm sitting with a lot of other kids my age in a large field with a forest at the edge with an outlining path of gravel. A streetlight must be standing somewhere in the field, though I cannot see it, because its light is illuminating the drops of rain and my surroundings. Some of the people around me I know. We've been asked to go on some kind of scavenger hunt in the woods individually, and apparently, we're going to be graded on it by three people: evaluators. All the teenagers, including me, have completed the test. I see the evaluators head into the rainy woods with clipboards and pencils. There are two men, and one woman. The woman is stunning. She has long, flowing brown hair and hazel-green eyes. For some reason, my mind catalogs her as a homicide detective, but I can't think why. One of the two men is hispanic. He looks serious, as does his partner: A white guy, wearing a suit and tie. A name comes to me for him: Honey MIlk. It makes no sense, but I go with it. i see them leave markers on branches of trees. The markers are different colored pieces of tape and plastic. The colors represent grades. A girl gets me to follow her so we can both check them out. She wants to see her grade before the announcement. But it's strange...there are grades on the markers, but no name that corresponds to them. We can't tell who's is who's. The girl is disappointed. I go about my own business.

      There is something that is bothering me about the test we have all just taken. On one part of the test, we were asked to identify two symbols of the "Wawa" tribe that were carved on a piece of stick we were asked to find. I know for a fact that many people got stuck. I was able to get one symbol: the symbol for death, but not the other. The death symbol was written on my hand, and I remember how it got there. I drew it, after looking something up in the dictionary that showed me all the Wawa symbols. Suddenly, a girl my age comes up to me and asks me if I know what the second Wawa symbol was on the test. I say no, but that I know where to find it. We go to look in the dictionary, which I remember turns into a Wawa symbol book if you look up the word "wawa." We find the dictionary in a black shelf with about 12 cubby holes. It's just standing in the middle of the rainy field, near the streetlamp. I watch the girl as she flips through it. She is softly pretty, with kinky brown hair cut shoulder length. She tells me her name, but I forget it immediately, except that it starts with an "S."

     We can't find "wawa" in the dictionary. I tell her it must be the wrong one, so we look in every dictionary in each bottom cubby. None of them is the right one. Then "S" has an epiphany. She remembers that last week, she put a dictionary in her cubby. It is one of the top cubbies on the shelf. "S" pulls out all the binders in her cubby, spreads them out on the table in front of us. I don't remember the table being there before, but it is now. "S" keeps rummaging around her cubby and I sneak a peek at her binders and folders. I can see the tip of a red folder with a titled that starts with an "And." I ask her about it and she said the file just came with the storage space. She finds the dictionary after I ask her and looks up "wawa." It works, and we start to open the symbol book.

Everything blurs and suddenly everyone's asleep.

SICK

What's the best medicine for a head cold?









KITTENS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hehehe...

Television Heads (Ironic On So Many Levels...Oh Wait - Just Two)

It may be just a crazy-random-happen-stance...but I'm pretty sure the world ENDED today.

I mean, look what we've BECOME!!

I'm A Hopeless Elephant

Dear Loveless Monkey, 

It's the big

White

Elephant in the room

And I'm so

Hope-

Lessly in love with you

I want you all

To myself 

And if that makes me petty

Then you can 

Throw me on the shelf 

But somehow I know

I know that you

Want to show

That you love me too

So there it is

I said it

You better believe

I meant it

And that's it

I'm all done

So take it or leave it

I'm ready to run

Love, 

A Hopeless Elephant

With forget-me-not eyes

And a sweet, saddened smile

Because she's still in denial

When she's way up high

In her imaginary sky

Because she doesn't know

What she doesn't know

But she's getting there!

MAKEOVER!

Hope you like the new look!

Guilty as Charged...

(For the purposes of porpoises, the names in this letter have been changed to protect the identities of dolphins all around the world.)

Dear Yellow Shoes,

Sometimes I wonder Yellow...I just can't help myself. I wonder, if I hadn't been so stupid when I was 10 years old (when things were I'm-going-to-marry-my-school-crush easy) and wrote you that EMBARRASSING email about how you made me cry, would I be in this position? If I hadn't been so sad I'd lost my only companion in my seemingly teeming-with-life, but truthfully sad and empty world, would I have tried to grab your attention again in a desperate attempt to continue to feel special? I still can't look at that STUPID email with out getting this awful feeling in my stomach like I've just disgraced myself in ways I can't even begin to fathom. But if I hadn't gone through that embarrassment, or ignored you when I finally got the chance to see you I'd been begging to have, maybe I would still be lost.

The truth is that you're the only person I've ever met who is...like me. I've always wanted someone like that, someone who is like me. I think we all do, especially as kids. I know for me, I always pretended I had an imaginary twin who got everything I said and sided with me on every issue, especially issues concerning my parents. Her name was Asha (is it weird that I still remember?) and she got me! You get me. I can tell. You seem...special.

I knew you were special before you were special to me. I remember distinctly that it was your hair that made an impression on me when you started at school. It was long, and fell to below your chest. You were timid, shy, and so very, very young. I was fascinated. You were not like other people. You were fresh and new and gorgeous to me. Lots of times I tried to tell you how beautiful I thought you were, but I never got up the courage.

Then we got to know each other. We spent early mornings discussing flesh-eating worms and dreams and crazy teachers who burnt $20 bills in front of their classes, while other children pelted each other with dodge balls. I liked you. I was curious about you. And I got curiouser and curiouser....

Then you left. I spent awhile walking around and around, hoping you would notice that I was sad. I thought you'd say, "Never mind, I'll stay if it means that much to you." But I'm still trying to learn that the world doesn't revolve around me, so I didn't realize that you had your own life besides me. So I wrote you that email. And now I'm not so lost. It's comforting just to know you're a click away if I need you. I'm still awkward and embarrassed and petrified every time I see you, even when I press send. But I guess I just don't want to screw up...? I hope you don't think this letter is too creepy when you read it.

Love Always,

A Writer.