Happy New Year!

I know some of you have already had your new year celebration already, but I still have a few hours to go. Thank you to everyone who has already sent me their wishes. Happy New Year to everyone, early or late.

It Was A Dream

This is the poem that I took my user name from. It goes back to the post I did about dreams and how they can be very real to me.

~/~/~/~
I sprang to sit wrapped in my sheets,
My body drenched from sweat and heat.
I strain my ears for another call,
as my chest heaves with a heavy fall
On this night, I woke to a scream,
only to find, it was a dream.
~/~/~/~

What Words Miss

~/~/~/~
What music does not emote,
and canvas cannot portray,
and what words miss,
is everything I want to say.

My mind races away all day
but my ears do not hear its calls,
my mouth cannot speak its words,
and my heart feels naught but its falls.

I would sit a thousand years in silence
and before you I would kneel,
if you could provide me with the words to say
and I could just express how I feel.
~/~/~/~

All I can say is WOW!

I know I just posted the last chapter of what has become an epic fanfic, but I have two screen caps to share with you. Click on them to make them bigger.

The first is proof of how amazing and consistent all of my readers are. On average I had around 1,800 read the story every single day. The yellow line is how many unique people read it in a single day. The blue bars are how many pages of the fic have been viewed in that same day by those people. Amazing.

Then I went to bed after I posted the last chapter and woke up to an email inbox that looked like this:

By 8am, just six hours after I posted the chapter, I already had 56 reviews on it. That is insane and completely... just... I'm speechless at all the support. Thank you all who also frequent this site. Your interest is truly inspiring. I cannot thank you enough.

My All-time Favorite Poem

This poet single handedly hooked me on poetry when I was just a little kid. My parents bought me three of his books when they couldn't get me interested in reading and they won me over. I've read them cover to cover. This one has always and will always stick with me. It's called Listen to the Musn'ts (must not (s) ).

~/~/~/~/~/~

Listen to the Musn'ts

~/~/~/~/~/~

“Listen to the Musn'ts child,

Listen to the Don'ts.

Listen to the Shouldn'ts,

the Impossibles, the Won'ts.

Listen to the Never Haves,

then Listen close to me.

ANYthing can happen, child, ANYthing can Be.”

 

Shel Silverstein (1930-1999)

Untitled Poem 1

~/~/~/~/~/~

Thoughts race and days pass.

Nothing changes yet nothing lasts.

My only desire: to close my eyes

and wait for dreams of starry skies,

cool nights and gentle breeze,

when worries lift and depression flees.

I found my place, I'm untouchable.

I found my peace and want nothing more.

~/~/~/~/~/~

Just had to share

This is the newest member of our family. Her name is Lizzie and we adopted her from the local pound. She's about eight months old and has lived in the pound since she was just a few weeks old. She had never been on a leash, in a house, near a car... she didn't know what any of it was. She is the most curious dog we have ever had and just the cutest damn thing too. I just felt like sharing because a few of you commented on the other photo had had a few days ago. We actually have three all together. We're dog people.

I'm going to be posting more pictures and also some poetry that's not about love. Shocking I know. I'm hoping to keep this blog active while I'm on my little break from fanfiction (to which I have added a link at the top of the page). I'm also hoping to start posting the Quinn/Adrianne fic here on the 4th.

My Gift to You

~/~/~/~
Touch me, just the lightest of grazes
     and the world stops where I stand.
My heart pounds with a fluttering beat
     just from the touch of your hand.
The very air is sucked from my lungs
     and I'm left gasping for breath.
My mind stumbles through its train of thought
     as my heart is ripped from my chest.

It's yours, just take it, my gift to you
     and do with it what you will.
It matters not, your feelings for me
     as you see, my love beats still.
~/~/~/~

Memories

So... I was going through my portable hard drive that I finally got to boot up again, and I ran across a whole bunch of pictures and videos that I had forgotten about. I thought I would share some. The first one I want to share is a video of what I believe to be the worst driveway EVER.

Not only is my sister trying to find the driveway in the pitch black of night, but get her car off the property in one piece. If you suffer from motion sickness... don't watch this. Also, if you want to enjoy the humor of it, turn on the volume on before you even start it. If you really want to enjoy it... make the video bigger.

Now, I promise you that the camera is not being bounced on purpose. I was holding it completely still. Every time the camera moves, it's because the car bounced... or tilted sideways. The voices you hear are my sister, myself, and my brother-in-law. And yes, I am the one without the country accent. ;)

Dreams

     I love dreams. I love to think about dreams that I've had and try and figure out why I have had them, but I have never been able to figure it out or relate it back to my life. I have very realistic dreams. It's like I can feel things and hear things. My mother has realistic dreams that leave her wondering if it was really a dream after all, but I always know the difference because my dreams have a certain layer of absurdity to them.

     I have had dreams where I am in a house with a dirt floor or whose ceiling is only three feet high and you have to walk bent over. I have had a dream where I found a few pieces of paper under a mattress that suddenly multiplied until the mattress bowed from the stack underneath it. They are all very strange, but the strangest dream that has stuck with me the most was a reoccurring dream I have had for many years... probably since I was twelve.

     The dream is always the same. It starts with me being a good depth underwater in the middle of the ocean with a shark swimming towards me. I turn and start swimming away from it as fast as I can towards the surface, but it's obvious I will never make it. Right as the shark is opening his mouth to bite me, I give up and let him win. I literally jump awake as he chomps down on me.

     This dream has probably happened twice a week for a decade. So that is somewhere around 1,00 times in my life that I have had this dream. It's a lucid dream. I can even 'think' during it. As I'm swimming to the surface, I'm telling myself that this is stupid. The dream will always end the same way and even if I did by chance make it to the surface, I still had no way of actually getting out of the water.

     With that being said, one night I changed the dream. When the shark started swimming after me, I didn't try to get away. I just stayed there and watched him as he approached. I wasn't scared and I wasn't panic as the distance closed. And right when he was within arm's reach, he stopped. He just stopped moving and we both kind of floated there for a few seconds before I woke up going “What the hell was that?”.

     That was two years ago and I have yet to have that dream again. I would really love to know what it meant and it was that I apparently figured out in order for it to stop occurring. Any thoughts?

Fickle Muse

This poem is about how it use to feel to try and express myself. It's one of the first I ever wrote and kept instead of throwing it away.

~/~/~/~

Fickle Muse

~/~/~/~

Snagging snares which rip the skin,

yet there is no yielding.

Mustering a will to push,

persistent through the pain.

Searching for the freedoms they have found,

powers they are wielding.

Finding it grasped so tightly,

in the hands of a fickle muse.

Sometimes Is Not Now

Sometimes,

it's better left for another time,

to talk of what was meant between the lines

of what you said and what it was I heard.

But then again,

I can't just ignore that fiendish grin,

all those little digs you've been digging in,

and how drawn lines have blurred.

So can I disregard

all those things you said to break my heart,

all those vicious lies told from the start?

My heart and mind, they're just not so sure.

~/~/~/~

The answer to the riddle was your mind. It wanders, you can speak it, and it gets lost.

PS. Loved the poetry. Heartbreaking yet beautiful.

Riddles part 2

For all of you who said words or thoughts, pretty close. The answer to the riddle is actually 'the answer'. You always have the answer to every question you are asked, you just may not realize that's what it is. I always loved the play on words. I'm strange like that. Here's another. And I'll get back to posting poetry and stories tomorrow or the next day. I promise.

I wander with no legs.
I speak with no mouth.
I get lost though I have not moved.
What am I?

Riddles

I love to think. I feel the happiest when I'm thinking or when I'm in the middle of a conversation with someone who makes me think. To add to that, I love philosophy, psychology, sociology, math (I know that's weird), word play, and riddles. Just searching for the answer makes your mind go to so many different places that it would never venture to on a regular day. You're testing yourself, giving yourself a mental work out, and afterwards, I always feel amazing. It's like I accomplished something with my day, just for thinking more than a routine day would have me do.

This is one of my favorite riddles. Let me know what you think the answer is and I'll post it late to see if you're right. What's the answer?

I linger here, on your lips.

As a clue, I am not a kiss.

You have had me all this time,

locked inside a simple rhyme.

What am I?

The things that come out of my mother's mouth...

My sister came home for Thanksgiving, making it the first time that she, my mother, my father, and myself had occupied the same space for a significant amount of time in... I can't even remember how long. It's rare that we are all together, even if we lived in the same town. But to keep with tradition, my mother graced us with one of her famous moments which my sister, Danielle, and I have deemed a 'Momism'.

It's breakfast time. I have just gotten home from work and am sitting at the dinning room table with my sister next to me and my mother making a Christmas wreath at the head of the table, when my father comes out to join the conversation. The conversation turns into a discussion of weather and how it is getting colder. The discussion of the winter, of course, leads to conversation of winter activities.

Dad: Danielle's never been ice fishing.
Danielle: No. But I've been polar bear diving.
Mom: (Looks at her with disgust) Are you serious?
Danielle: ...Yeah. I've jumped into a river in the middle of winter.
Mom: Oh... I thought you meant going into a shaved putty-tutty.

And for those who can't figure it out. A 'putty-tutty' is my mother's word for... well... I'm sure you can figure it out if you think about things that can be shaved that one might 'go into'.

I Will Pray

If there is a God, I will pray to Him tonight.
I will thank Him just for having you at my side.
As I watch you here sleeping next to me,
your eyes close lightly as you drift into dream.

I can't stop my desire to touch your soft hair,
to run my hands through it in the cool night's air.
And while I find myself smiling shamelessly without cause,
when you stir faintly under my touch, my love sick heart gives pause.

I have never imagined myself this way,
so taken by someone, captivated without sway.
Tonight is a night I shall not allow myself to sleep,
but instead make memories of your beauty to keep.

I will pray to God that this night lives long,
that the day is held at bay while this dream dreams on.
I will pray that when your eyes do open to day's light,
that the smile on my face tells you of the most magical night.

Shaun Evaristo / Miguel Jontel ft. The S**t Kingz, Keone, Paul, Dana - H...

I'm a huge fan of any sort of creativity. It doesn't matter if it's writing, singing, music, dancing... anything. With that being said, I must confess that I never understood how dance could tell a story. I could never see the 'story'. But this video changed that for me. Not only is it cool and modern in style, but it is strangely elegant and beautiful to me. The story I took from it was the evolution of a romance. When you first meet someone, it's about showing them what you've got, the swagger or attitude, to draw them in, but when that falls flat, you're left to pick up the pieces. You were so full of yourself to begin with that you have lost out on a real opportunity. Then you have to decide how much that other person is worth. If it's love, you will do anything to humble yourself and beg for forgiveness. When you find that right person, they're worth more than what you value yourself to be.

I just really wanted to share this with you all because it hit me in just the right spot. PS, watch it in HD.

Introductions Round 3

So, I have introduced my mother and her unique way of thinking. And I have introduced my father and his extreme lack of sympathy. I figure it would only be appropriate to introduce myself and one of my defining personality traits. Now depending on who you ask, you will get very different answers to the question of what is my biggest defining personality trait. If you ask family, you'll get one answer. If you ask friends or co-workers, you'll get very different answers. But for this introduction, I'm going to go with what my family would say.

I'm a smart ass. From the day I was born, I have been a smart ass. Quick witted and sharp tongued smart ass. I can honestly say it comes easily to me and tends to come in handy turning tension filled moments I have experienced in my life. It's also a great way to get the attention (which I have previously stated I am not a fan of) off of me and on to someone else or when wanting to get something my way. For example:

When I was in daycare, maybe the age of five, I have one very distinct memory. My grandmother would pick me up around lunch time and keep me until my mother got off of work. I remember always walking into my grandparents house and going right to the table to eat my lunch. It was a fruit juice, a sandwich, pretzel sticks, and some sort of sugary treat for after. Usually this is an uneventful experience. I was a good child who did what I was told and when I was told to do it. Except once. One day I decided that I didn't want to eat my sandwich and went straight for the sugary treat. (But what kid wouldn't?) My grand mother stopped me and this conversation took place:

Grandma: Save that for later. That's junk.

Me: Why?

Grandma: Because you need to eat your sandwich first. That's the best part of your lunch. You need to eat it first.

Me: But why? You save the best for last so I really should eat the junk first.

Grandma, your argument is invalid. My grandmother never tried to battle with my logic again. Even nineteen years later she just gives up before it even starts.

Another example deals with my grandfather on my dad's side of the family who was very much a joker. He was always there with a quick remark that left someone embarrassed or everyone laughing. One of my proudest smart ass moments is the following:

I was getting to that age that I, as a little girl, dreaded. That time when you have to get your first bra. I was standing in the kitchen surrounded by my mother, my father, and my grandparents who were all discussing the topic. It was embarrassing enough right there. But I argued that I didn't need one yet because all the other girls in my class who wore them were getting teased by the boys and I didn't want that to happen to me. My grandfather wasn't having any of it.

Grandpa: You need one.

Me: No I don't.

Grandpa: (holding out his index finger flat) If you can put your finger there and something hangs over it, then you need one.

Me: (walks up to Grandpa and puts index finger under his man boob) Then I guess you need one too.

No one had ever seen that man speechless before that moment.

I wake from my slumber to early morning light's gleam
and shake from my head fragments of now lost, bitter dreams.
Yet still I hear them calling, begging with pleas
that I abandon the day and return to my sleep.

Wanted:

Moments of genuine interest
     and words of elegant application
Paired with thought-provoking challenges
     and enticing real conversation,
Radiant, absent-minded smiles
     and uncontrollable laughing fits
Induced by an intense, intriguing mind
     and perfectly time quirky quips.

Introductions Round 2

My father's name: Bruce

Age: 58... though he will always be 45 in my mind. I'm not sure why. It use to be 42, because that's the first time I realized that my parents actually had birthdays and got older. So of course, their ages just fixed themselves in my mind. Go figure.

My father is many things. He is a handy man, a perfectionist, stubborn, bullheaded (yes I know they mean the same thing, but that's how serious I am about that description), and he's thorough in everything he does. Growing up, I use to help him with things around the house and learned this first hand. Every time we received a new appliance: washer, dryer, dishwasher, oven... I was right there to help him install it and without fail, the first thing he would instruct was to always make sure the power was off. If we installed new ceiling fans? Rule number one: make sure the power is off. Replacing the light switch or power outlet? Rule number one: make sure the power is off. Very thorough, very redundant. Annoyingly so. But that's what keeps you safe.

One thing my father is not, however, is sympathetic. I can remember hurting myself when I was younger and going to him saying I fell and hurt my knee, to which he would reply 'Then don't do it again'. If I couldn't find something? 'Then you shouldn't have put it there in the first place'. You're home sick? He's not. I called him home from work one night because my mother was very ill. What did he do? He came home and went to bed.

One of my favorite, yet personally least favorite stories about my father's lack of sympathy happened my sophomore year of high school. I had been MIA when it came to helping him around the house because I had developed a bit of an anomaly with my heart and was having to wear a heart monitor for a week which excused me from any strenuous activity. However, on this particular day, he needed my assistance with something small. He was replacing a broken belt on our dryer and couldn't reach it because his hand was too big, so he needed me to do it for him. No big deal. Conversation goes as follows:

Dad: Just reach under the barrel and you'll feel a round wheel. Guide the belt over that.

Me: Okay. Simple enough. (Gets on hands and knees and twists arm inside of the dryer, searching for this wheel he has told me about. Suddenly I tense and after a few silent seconds of a very strange sensation, I fly backwards a few feet.)

Dad: (looking at me laying on the ground)What's your problem?

Me: Y-you forgot to turn off the power.

Dad: (looks at the dryer and then back down at me, still laying on the ground. He laughs.) Whoops.

Needless to say, neither my mother nor my cardiologist were necessarily impressed with the 250 volt jump start to my heart. Dad thought it was funny as hell though.

I Could

I could send you roses or buy chocolates in the shape of hearts.

I could write you a poem and say it's been written in the stars.

I could kiss your hand, your lips, or cheek.

I could smile at you and make your knees go weak.

I could call your name and you'd love the sound from my lips.

I could tell you your everything that makes up my biggest wish.

I could do all these things that I say I could,

but they still wont show my love like I think they should.

Introductions Round 1

 

With this blog encompassing some of the real life stories I have experienced, I thought it would be best to fill you in on a few of the reoccurring characters you will see. Lets start with the one who will probably be featured most... my mother. After reading this post, you'll probably understand why she will be featured quite regularly.

My mother's name: Leah (yes that is her real name).

Age: 52 unless you ask her and then it is still 39.

I don't even know where to begin in describing my mother other than saying she is truly unique. Everything about her is unique. Especially the way she thinks. For example: I'm driving in my car with my mother in the passenger seat, discussing birthdays and how easy it is to forget them when there are so many to remember. This conversation ensues:

Me: Well, there was a research study done that shows the average person's memory has decreased since we started using cellphones so much. We don't have to remember anything because it keeps track of it all for us. Phone numbers, birthdays, appointments. It's all in there.

Mom: But you have to be careful with that. With the phones and computers, you know.

Me: ...why?

Mom: They'll lie to you.

Me: They'll lie to me?

Mom: Yeah. Computers will lie to you. They do it all the time.

Me: …

Mom: Don't look at me like that. I've put phone numbers in my phone and then when I go to use them, the number is wrong or all swapped around.

Me: That's because you put them in wrong.

Mom: (shaking her head and looks out the window) No it's not. I put them in there perfectly. It lied to me. It lies to me all the time.

Another example: I'm working on helping her and my father set up their insurance policies online. I have sitting on the table, my new laptop. The process is very redundant and the website is not at all user friendly so I begin to get annoyed with it. The conversation goes on as such:

Me: I'm getting frustrated. Can we just finish this up later?

Dad: Yeah. I'm not in any rush to get it done.

Mom: Would it be better if you plugged it in?

Dad: …

Me: What does plugging my laptop in have to do with me getting frustrated?

Mom: I don't know. It was just a suggestion.

My mother is an intelligent woman. She just doesn't always think things through sometimes. Another issue she has is word usage, or rather, knowing the correct meaning behind a word. A simple example of incorrect word usage would be her insistence on referring to 'texting someone' as 'tex mexing someone'. This would be in reference to 'TexMex' food, or Texas' version of Mexican food, a more Americanized version... don't ask why she confuses the two. I don't know.

Example two:

Me: I would feel like I was letting them down if I didn't. You know?

Mom: Yeah. You don't want to pop their cherries.

Me: … You mean burst their bubbles?

Mom: Don't they mean the same thing?

Me: No. No they don't. Popping cherries means I took their virginity.

Mom: Oh. Well, you don't want to do that.

Those are just a few examples of my mother and the way she works. I can honestly say, she is probably one of the most entertaining members of my family. She just doesn't realize it.

Lone Flower Bud

Lonely among dying, desolate trees

growing askew in an ocean of mud,

grasping to a barren branch

is but a lone flower bud.

Perched, so obstinate in its cause,

a spot of color amidst the gloom,

as a harsh wind of knives beats

urging it not to bloom.

But the taunting and the teasing

and the mockery shall not prevail.

For when this bud should bloom,

is shall be anything but frail.

"Tell me."
"I can't. You'll ruin the surprise."
"Then show me."
"I can't. It's not for your eyes."
"Then how will I-"
"You'll know. You just have to play a part."
"But how will I-"
"You'll know when we kiss, you have my heart."

I have been told by co-workers that I am a very optimistic person. I've been told by family that I tend to be a pessimistic person. And by friends, I've been told I'm too much of a realist. So I've finally come up with a solution:

I am a realist who suffers from bouts of optimism.

What are you?