these are the side-effects of coffee....

Friday, July 18, 2008

  • Currently Listening
    Alfie
    By Mick Jagger, Dave Stewart
    Old Habits Die Hard
    see related

    I Never Saw a Wild Thing Sorry for Itself*


    The brilliance came
    in a single flash, a chain
    of atoms exploding, as one breath
    was gulped down, like an opium
    of the heart. 
     
    There's nothing
    rough about this, no heather on the moors,
    no mournful cries, as the dumbstruck
    God of love simply smiles
    a crooked, crooked smile,
    eyes laughing
    in the moment
    where reason is swallowed
    in a sleep.
     
    Through every word uttered,
    and every syllable, hurled
    at breakneck speed, beyond--
    she dances in circles, around the nerves
    that speak louder than her own silence,
    as is she could pull off the sheet
    between these two odd, bleeding moments,
    and reconcile the mere technicalities of possession.
     
    Nymph, tripping from shadow to shadow,
    she abandons what she's left behind before,
    leaves this haven on a lark, the dark
    smudging behind her, confident
    that nothing burns brighter than this--
    never mind the ashes.
     
    *The title is taken from a poem by D.H. Lawrence

Thursday, July 17, 2008

  • It's not fair, you know.  The way you magically appear, just when I've buried all my reasoning behind more impossible feelings.  I've been thinking and thinking of you.  Wondering.  Picturing certain scenarios.  Remembering the way your smile changes when you laugh, or how you get freckles in the sun.
     
    And then there's your voice in my voicemail.  One missed call.  Or three.  But who is counting, anyway?  Right.  Me.  Opps.
     
    One missed call and a message.  And I'm frozen.  I could just dial the numbers, as easy as taking a breath.  But it isn't all that easy, is it?  No.  Not quite.  Complicated.  That was the word you used, as if it could encompass everything.  It barely grazed the surface.  You barely grazed my surface.  But that's an entirely different matter.
     
    But the world's been forever stopped.  Gravity's gone.  And things that were never possible, are.  Or could be.  There's a whisper of it, these miracles that make me remember your eyes.  The quiet way in which you'd study me, when you thought I wasn't looking.  (I'm always looking.  When will you ever learn that?)
     
    It's been a day, and I haven't answered.  But odds are, I will.
  • Currently Listening
    Alice In No Man's Land
    Who I Am
    see related

    Boys are stupid.  Yes, yes.  I'm being bitchy.  And sexist.  And blah blah blah.  *blinks*  Where was I?  Ah, stupid boys.

    Logically, I know that not all boys are confusing, or frustrating, or more insane than a whole mental institution.  However, I don't know any of those boys.  If I do, they're all either gay or married--in the latter case, yay for their wives for finding a good one.  We should all be so lucky.

    There seems to be a shortage of men who are not...heaps of chisled chaos.  You see, it never frakkin' fails, that I am attracted to the guy who is far from perfect, does the wrong thing in a way that kicks the shit out of my heart, and who has a tough time saying he's sorry.  I don't fall for the nice boy who pays attention to me, or the sweet guy who I had classes with.  No, that would be too easy.  That would certainly make my mother happy.  Instead, I get bored with that type of guy.  Because I'm my own, masochistic worst enemy.  There should be some sort of support group for this.

    And somewhere, god, She is laughing at me.  And then she's contemplating her next album.  Isn't it Ironic?  Yeah.  Don't ya think?  *breathes* 

    (I got this inspiration for this from several places.  One source was Xinergy's post.  To quote her, "Men are just boys in suits."  Amen.)

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

  • You bring out
    the twelve year old girl in me,
    the one who giggles for no reason,
    and gets into trouble, just because she can.
    It's like I'm a teenager again, all smiles
    and stupidity, when I can't think straight
    simply because of the idea that I might see you.
     
    It's so easy to forget
    all the things that went wrong, again and again,
    when I'm feeling those what-ifs and maybes
    like they were a lifeline...to what? Yesterday?
    No.  Tomorrow?  I can't say.
    But it is what it is, and I'm all kind of wondering--
    as if I hadn't already been.
     
    You bring out the recklessness in me,
    the part that would move hell and high water,
    drink the poison, and settle in to half the year in Hades
    just because I need the thrill, the release,
    the utter insanity that comes with feeling sixteen
    and lightheaded, with just the possibility of you.
     
    So, there you have it--
    I'm regressing.  I've been regressing.
    And I'd look the other way, I'd run
    if I could, but the thing is, damn it:
    I love you too damn much
    for my own damn good.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

  • Why You're Creepy

     
    A lot of people never show their faces on Xanga.  Ms. Xinergy wrote a terribly awesome post on it, actually (I am currently too lazy to go look for it.).  I've had this discussion a lot, lately--about whether or not to post pictures of myself etc.  A few years back, I had one guy insist that I didn't post pictures of myself because I must be...ugly.  Wow, genius logic there, sparky.  Did you think that through all by yourself?  Next up, on that particular brainwave, "I'm rubber, and you're glue..."
     
    But I digress.  I'm sitting here, slightly exhausted and seriously uncaffeinated.  I'm not an easily creeped out person.  I constantly ignore the visits from people in places I've never heard of (who knew that Russia was a Federation?).  But I've run into my share of creepy people in my day, online and in everyday life (which one is more scary?  I'm not sure).  There are those who quote things back at me that I've said.  Months ago.  It's very..."it puts the lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again."  And, quite frankly, no one wants to end up in Buffalo Bill's Pit of Despair.
     
    Where was I?  Right.  I just don't have the patience to deal with online gawking, criticism, or praise.  I don't mean that to be conceited.  That isn't what I come to Xanga for.  For me, it's a creative outlet and a fun social network.  I've learned a lot from people here, over the years.  And it's improved my writing.  I have made a good number of great online friends.  People who I'd actually hang out with, should I ever been in the neighborhood (none of them are named Mr. Rogers, in case you're curious). 
     
    As for me, I'm just a girl.  A girl with a large vocabulary, a penchant for humor, and a deep love of sarcasm.  I'm a woman who can recite some movie scripts verbatim (The Princess Bride, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Ferris Beuller's Day Off, Playing by Heart, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and a slew of others).  I'm a girl, who loves coffee and likes to write.  I'm a woman who likes to cook, but hates to do the dishes.  I'm a girl, who loves singing in public and hanging out with friends. 
     
    Sure, I might change my mind, someday.  I am not one to say never.  But today?  It's not that day.  And if you're wondering, "Am I creepy?" you probably are.  In which case, please put down the lipstick, sewing needle, and other assorted items.  Clarice Starling should be along shortly.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

  • all i know

     
    Blinded, I blinked,
    with everything fragmented
    and in flames, I couldn't see
    that you came and went,
    like a season
    tumbling in and out of a century.
     
    There are things that I miss:
    people, faces, places.
    The old you.
    The old me.
    But these things lie now, amid
    the inescapable facts
    that one of us is trapped,
    and neither of us can escape.
     
    There's nothing but death,
    and the words spoken against it,
    pale and shimmering, incomprehensible--
    you don't understand, I know.
    And I can't make you.
     
    So the world gets smaller,
    and smaller,
    and smaller, until I can't breathe
    and you fail to notice,
    and I am flailing in this heavy stupor,
    one foot behind
    where my heart sits, unmmoving,
    and for a moment, I look up--
    and everything but the stars
    has fallen.

Wednesday, July 09, 2008

  • In Defense of the English Language

     
    Okay, I've tried to be nice.  I really have.  I've sat quietly, while rolling my eyes, almost biting off my tongue, entirely.  But...I haven't publicly chastised anyone in a while, and that just won't do.
     
    No, I'm not going to single anyone out.  I could, but I won't.  (Gracious, right?  Magnanimous?  Endearing?  Charming?  I...could go on.)  But I've had it with the murder of the English language; put down your ill-shaped pencils and stop stabbing at those sentences.  My eyes hurt, and, quite frankly, you all are making my soul bleed.  Plus, it makes you look like a bit of a dolt, when you can't spell definitely (defiantly is a different word.  Really.  I promise.  Would I lie to you?).  Am I being elitist?  Yes.  Do I sound snarky?  Yes.  But if I have to read one more pathetically inept sentence, where commas run rampant (or are, for some unknown reason, completely shunned), I am going to lose it.  (Yes, we all have typos and the odd error.  I've had those pointed out to me, and that's fine.  Hell, I've probably got a few typos in this entry.  But I'm addressing habitual errors, not accidental faux pas.  Savvy?)
     
    So, for the benefit of all Xanga--and the world at large--let me explain a few things to you.  (Those of you who have been reading me for a while will recognize a few repeats.  My apologies.)
     
    • Homophones.  Now, you may be looking at that word, with your head cocked to one side.  You may not even recognize it.  Suddenly, you sound like the dad in A Christmas Story, pronouncing 'fragile.'  Let me clarify: a homophone is a word that sounds like another word, but it isn't.  Example: wear and where.  See?  They sound the same, but they are not.  Consequently, please learn the difference between the following:
      • to, two, and too
      • hear and here
      • knew and new
      • accept and except (no, these are not interchangeable)
      • add and ad
      • peace and piece
      • than and then
      • there and their (Initially, part of there/their was deleted.  I fixed it.)

    ...and there are many, many more, but I fear that I've already short-circuited a few brains.  Moving on...

    • The phrase is not "I could care less."  Why?  Because that implies that you, in fact, could care less than you presently do.  Instead, say, "I couldn't care less." 
    • "Unbeknowingly" is NOT a word.  Unfortunately, it appears to be "unbeknownst" and "knowingly" shoved together.  
    • Just, because, you, you know, throw commas in a sentence does not mean, you know how to use them.  (The meaning of this should be obvious.)
    • Conversely if you are missing an important thing like commas everything becomes confusing and no one wants to read a run-on sentence.
    • "Your” and “you’re” do not mean the same thing.  "Your" signifies ownership (it is a possessive pronoun).  Example: Is that your car?  "You're" is a contraction for "you are."  Example: You're very interesting.
    • You know, while we are at it, “its” and “it’s” convey a different meaning, too.  "Its" is possessive.  "It's" means "it is" or "it has."
    • It isn't "alot."  It's "a lot."  Unless you actually mean "allot," which scares me, quite frankly.
    • Stop trying to make a time period possessive, or a strange contraction.  Writing "1990's" is wrong.  It's "1990s."  It indicates a span of time. 
    • An independent clause can stand on its own; it's a complete sentence.  Example: Grammar is your friend. 
    • A dependent clause is--you guessed it--dependent.  Thus, it cannot stand on its own.  Example (dependent is underlined): When I went to the pharmacy, I didn't buy any Tylenol.  You cannot walk up to someone and say, "When I went to the pharmacy."  It doesn't make sense.  Therefore, it's a dependent clause; it depends on the independent clause for clarification and meaning.
    • You cannot separate two independent clauses using only a comma.  I know you think you can, but you can't.  Use a semicolon--or a comma with a coordinating conjunction.  Incorrect example: I went to the pharmacy, I didn't buy any Tylenol.  Correct example: I went to the pharmacy, but I didn't buy Tylenol.  Or: I went to the pharmacy; I didn't buy Tylenol.
    • Than is used for comparisons.  Example: Coffee is better than tea.  Then has more than one meaning.  It can describe a point in time (I'll talk to you then), something that happens next (Have a cup of coffee, and then we'll eat cheesecake), in addition (There's reason, and then there's accountability), and in a specific case (If you want food, then you should go to the store).

    Honestly, I could go on, but I'm in dire need of more coffee.  So...Good night, Westley. Good work. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.

     

    Er, wait....that's not right.  But it's The Princess Bride.  Don't forget to say hi to Miracle Max on your way out, ok?

Monday, July 07, 2008

  • Currently Listening
    What to Do With Daylight
    Scarlet
    see related

    catch and release

     
    You replaced me
    with a carbon copy,
    but not quite.  That lesser creature
    doesn't spark
    your eyes, or redeem your unholy sheets,
    or toss your heart into terror
    and bliss
    by her simple presence. 
     
    No, I ended
    and restored you, thrilled and adored,
    worshipped and commanded you--
    Cleopatra with a campfire,
    dark eyes and a sweet flash
    of lightening, the beginning
    to every deft end.
     
    And she
    cannot hold a candle
    to all that I am, to all that was,
    and to all that I will be.  She is barely an ember
    to my blaze, pale in the absent moonlight,
    the echo of a greater song,
    a ghost of forgotten lyrics
    and borrowed melody.
     
    But my wildfire
    still owns you, lover, despite her adoring eyes,
    hollow, reflecting only her in her laughter.
    She's yours, in the moment,
    in this brief repose--no more, no less.
    But you?  Baby,
    love,
    you cannot help but belong
    to me. 
  • We Need to Talk...

     

     

    Nothing good EVER comes after that statement.  It’s a cosmic rule.  It’s right up there with the one day you straighten your hair—only to have the humidity be 100%, and it starts to rain the second you walk out the door.

     

    As I said, that statement leads to uncomfortable things, usually.  Because people get defensive, or awkward, or tell you things you don’t really want to hear.  In which case, the human reaction is to ignore what they’re saying, tell them to bugger off, and place the blame squarely on their shoulders—because, let’s face it—it’s their problem.

     

    And who hasn’t been there?  When the person sitting across from you says “we need to talk,"  several things happen.  Your heart starts to race, you roll your eyes, and you start looking for the exit, while you fake an “emergency” call on your cell phone, even though it didn’t ring.  It’s on silent.  Duh.

     

    But what do you do when you really have things to talk about?  How do you address something that’s been on your mind?  Chances are, if you’re like me, you just wait.  And wait.  And then you basically word-vomit it all up, in a frenetic explanation, a siege of genuine statements and questions, which are bundled in such a heap that you’re finished almost as soon as you began (NEVER a good thing).  If I’m lucky, the person I’m talking to can keep up.  If not…it's best to start over, using very small words.  And pictures.  Lots of pictures.  (Not that I know anyone like that.  It’s more of a public service announcement.)

     

    I was reading a post, this morning, about people changing.  And I’ve always found that particular epidemic odd, as if I just turned my back, and (suddenly) someone has become someone else.  I start wondering if I missed the memo, other than the one about the TPS reports.  (Consequently, have you seen my stapler?)  I could list about twenty people, off the top of my head, who has succumbed to that particular rabid happenstance.

     

    Maybe your boyfriend just starts to hang out with a different crowd.  Or your friend starts talking to her old college roommate, who was never a good influence, anyway.  The truth is, generally, people’s behaviors tend to be influenced by those we surround ourselves the most.  It’s human nature, to an extent—and to a greater extent, it’s peer pressure and a personality that’s easily manipulated.  Sure, we’ve all been in spots where we’ve just gone with the flow.  But what do you do when the flow has carried you off?

     

    Honestly, I’ve lost a lot of good people to change (no, not menopause).  There was my oldest (best) friend, who I don’t really speak to anymore.  And that sucks.  But like Corey Haim and Corey Feldman, all we have in common is our past.  And that’s really not a good basis for a friendship.  In my opinion, we took totally different paths.  She joined a sorority, upon beginning college.  I ran in the other direction of the Greek letters.  The last thing I wanted was to spend my time with Elle Woods.  And she just became someone I didn’t recognize. 

     

    Then there’s the girl who was my good friend during high school.  She went off to college, promising to come home for my birthday (there were other circumstances and broken promises).  She was only an hour away (hell, I commuted an hour to and from college; it’s no big deal).  The week of my birthday came, and she told me that she couldn’t come home.  And then she told me how she spent all of the previous weekend celebrating her roommate’s birthday.  She took her to a spa, and they did a bunch of other things.  She had time for that, for someone she'd known a month, but not for me.  And that really was a statement about our entire relationship.  She had time for me when it suited her, when she needed something.  After one huge debacle of me trying to explain my feelings to her, things went to shit, faster than if you put baking soda and vinegar in an easy-bake oven.  She blamed me, and it was an ugly, ugly, horrific, terrible, no-good mess…and the rest, as they say, is frakkin’ ridiculous.  Er, it’s history.

     

    My point?  I think I just realized that I have a real apprehension about people.  Yes, I trust.  And I trust when I shouldn’t.  I have an uncanny ability to believe in people, when a more sane person would be running in the opposite direction.  I do treat people the way I’d like to be treated, giving them the benefit of the doubt.  But, over the years, people have let me down.  A lot.  In crazy ways.  In ways I could never anticipate.  And, sure, there have been people who’ve stood their ground and the test of time…but, if I could be cynical for a moment…what if those people change?  What if it’s inevitable? 

     

    *breathes*  Okay, pessimism done.  Look, I know that people change.  And growing is part of life.  If you’re not growing as a person, you’re doing something seriously wrong.  But there’s a difference between personal growth and turning in Mr. Hyde.  Sure, you still might resemble Dr. Jekyll, but looks aren’t everything, if you catch my drift.  Actions are important.  Choices are important. 

     

    So, what is an instance where a friend, or significant other, changed?  Their behavior became different, or their personality went in a strange direction.  What was the cause?  Did you survive it?  Did you talk about it?

Sunday, July 06, 2008

  • Russian Roulette

    "Strange
    To be lying on my bed
    Contemplating my heart as it knocked me to pieces" Ted Hughes, The Lodger

    Your heart stopped, didn't it?  Where was your courage, then?  Drained or drowned?  Suffocated or sacrificed?  You think it doesn't matter, but it does.  Fate matters, and the way you prick your fingers down the keys, pausing on a note or denying it--that matters, too.  You leave a wake of sound behind you, like a hurricane or a lullaby.  Half-dream and half-nightmare: you have the kind of face that wakes me, in the middle of lightening storm, tangled in sheets and shivering.

    But in the daylight, you are easy to push aside.  Yes, that "goodbye" was a bit reactionary, a little bit chaotic.  Not my usual style or grace.  But I made an exception, without knowing I was making it.  I turned a season too early, trespassing here and there.  Why?  It looked like fun.  No, it looked like...love.  And how foolishly idealistic was that?  Quite right.  It was quite stupid.  Only, I couldn't look at you and not care.  That's my curse.  Cassandra?  Isolde?  Neither has anything on me.  Still, what I said, that day, was taken and twisted into something you thought you could live with.  But I doubt you're really living, with a still heart, now.  I wonder how it sits, swallowed, within your limits.  Everything sinks, or sinks in, eventually--no matter how far you think you're running.
     
    I stopped.  I stopped writing you, I stopped trying to imagine your life, and what it--and you--had become. Only, I still look for your messages where there are none.  I still wait for you to call, only you don't.  Or did you?  It's too late to tell, after all this time.  I missed my cue.  Or I ignored it.  Does it matter?  Evidently.  I'll merely pretend I don't care, until I actually don't.  It's just what you do.  Or what I do, until love runs into remission.
     
    There's no more danger left in you.  No more combustive disasters--the very kind I conjure, whenever I walk down a crowded street.  There's charm, but I can't feel it.  I can't find it.  Not here, and not now.  Because it's just not worth it, at this distance.  You took your heart out of it, because you couldn't stand the way it beat.  Wildly.  Erratically.  Like the last hope before a dying age.  It was everything, and it was too much.
     
    Do I forgive you?  Only as much as I forgive myself.

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About Me

  • I'm a writer, but I'm also a reader. I can be a bit of a literary snob, but I know what I like. I'm very analytical, but that doesn't mean I'm always serious. In fact, I'll be the first to crack a joke. My humor can be quite dry. And, by all things caffeinated, I am hopelessly addicted to coffee. I am here to write--about writing, about life, or about that creepy guy I always see at the local coffee shop. He always sits in the corner and stares at me like I'm his last meal. If nothing else, my life inspires me.

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  • EmbracingTheSky
    dang...And that's exactly what I mean.I wish I could.....Dang.
  • Chokotou_Reiki
    *looks at headline* So what you're saying is that you go on a writing spree for everytime you have a cup of coffee?