I'm letting the thoughts in my head put themselves in order.
Then I'll think them.
We'll see how it goes from there.
I want to find the words, so that I can speak my feelings. Currently I wait for Music to pull tears from my eyes, or something beautiful or stark or simple to make my heart swell with whatever to the point of pain...I thought that I was constantly searching for things to make me feel...but it's starting to look like I'm looking for things to make me speak.
Is there really a difference?
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Monday, July 24, 2006
What it all comes down to is this:
I LOVE my life.
I am in love with the fact that everyday I get to be myself, I get to struggle, to fight, to smile, to cry and laugh. I get to feel a full range of emotions and step in gum, fall off the last step of my spiral staircase when I'm late in the morning and yell at the lady who shoulder-checks me on the side walk. I love the stab of pure pain that I feel when a friend's kid tells me "It's time for you to come home...ok, that's fine, I think I can wait a month," and the rush of sheer delight that somebody misses me, somebody really cares that I am gone. All the more powerful that it's a five year old. I love that I can curse until my very lips turn blue over the fact that people who should know better, don't. Just the feeling of that ripe, juicy f**k squeezing itself from my upstanding vocabulary...bliss. It is the most amazingly beautiful confusion to have loved so hard, so fast and to still feel that love and have absolutely no idea what to do with it. And then to feel the hope and faith that I've known love, I know it's there, so I'm sure that I will find what I'm looking for again, or eventually. Whichever comes first. The sleepless nights that are caused by the terror over the state of the world, and the question of whether or not I will even get the chance to know the love that I'm looking for, that's meant to be in my life always, not just as a lesson. I get to taste the first bittersweet sip of coffee that is used to revive me from that night with no sleep. The exhilaration of busting my ass and and pausing long enough to see that I've done something. I love the assuredness in my soul that everything I do is for me and not them. I may have to nod and smile at the jackasses, but they can't have the script that I'm writing in my heart while I blind 'em with my grin. The first warmed honey feeling that slips through my veins when I can collect myself long enough to write, to relax, to sit down or wind up with my friends after that first cocktail and realize how wonderful things really are.
Everything. I love it. Just to feel. I love it. I can stand on my own two feet and breath, look around and be. A lot of it sucks. And damn if it isn't hard, everyday it get's harder. The lines blur just a little bit more. But even if it's bad, it means that I am HERE. Every moment that I am fully capable is a blessing.
By no means am I dropping the cynicism and getting all pollyanna-ish on you guys - two days from now I'm sure I'll have a proper rant over something worthless like how "people have no awareness of themselves in space, frikkin' A-MAZ-ING." But even those rants make life worth living.
UNFINISHED
I'm all ears
and I'm all doors
all open windows to my soul
with an invitation to
"come on in, love"
without even makin' you
wipe your feet on the threshold.
No worries. That's what I'm here for.
I LOVE my life.
I am in love with the fact that everyday I get to be myself, I get to struggle, to fight, to smile, to cry and laugh. I get to feel a full range of emotions and step in gum, fall off the last step of my spiral staircase when I'm late in the morning and yell at the lady who shoulder-checks me on the side walk. I love the stab of pure pain that I feel when a friend's kid tells me "It's time for you to come home...ok, that's fine, I think I can wait a month," and the rush of sheer delight that somebody misses me, somebody really cares that I am gone. All the more powerful that it's a five year old. I love that I can curse until my very lips turn blue over the fact that people who should know better, don't. Just the feeling of that ripe, juicy f**k squeezing itself from my upstanding vocabulary...bliss. It is the most amazingly beautiful confusion to have loved so hard, so fast and to still feel that love and have absolutely no idea what to do with it. And then to feel the hope and faith that I've known love, I know it's there, so I'm sure that I will find what I'm looking for again, or eventually. Whichever comes first. The sleepless nights that are caused by the terror over the state of the world, and the question of whether or not I will even get the chance to know the love that I'm looking for, that's meant to be in my life always, not just as a lesson. I get to taste the first bittersweet sip of coffee that is used to revive me from that night with no sleep. The exhilaration of busting my ass and and pausing long enough to see that I've done something. I love the assuredness in my soul that everything I do is for me and not them. I may have to nod and smile at the jackasses, but they can't have the script that I'm writing in my heart while I blind 'em with my grin. The first warmed honey feeling that slips through my veins when I can collect myself long enough to write, to relax, to sit down or wind up with my friends after that first cocktail and realize how wonderful things really are.
Everything. I love it. Just to feel. I love it. I can stand on my own two feet and breath, look around and be. A lot of it sucks. And damn if it isn't hard, everyday it get's harder. The lines blur just a little bit more. But even if it's bad, it means that I am HERE. Every moment that I am fully capable is a blessing.
By no means am I dropping the cynicism and getting all pollyanna-ish on you guys - two days from now I'm sure I'll have a proper rant over something worthless like how "people have no awareness of themselves in space, frikkin' A-MAZ-ING." But even those rants make life worth living.
UNFINISHED
I'm all ears
and I'm all doors
all open windows to my soul
with an invitation to
"come on in, love"
without even makin' you
wipe your feet on the threshold.
No worries. That's what I'm here for.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
This was posted elsewhere a few months ago, but then I realized that some of you don't read there, so I'm posting it here.
I was out a couple of weeks ago at this place called the Beauty Bar, aptly named b/c it sports a full bar and a nail tech (no I'm not a Manhattanite pro, I just can't think of a better term) who will give you a manicure whilst you kick back with your friends and enjoy a nice cold Newcastle. Bliss.
I, unfortunately b/c my nails are RAGGED, did not partake in the spa moment, but I did meet a very interesting character. I'll set up the situation by telling you that my last words of the evening to this Man were "I wish I could have met you when you were sober." Ah, how many nights have I ended on that note? Anyhow, this guy was, well, what I consider the full package...minus the fact that he was listing-to-the-side-intoxicated...usually not enticing by any means, but this was an exception. What can I say, maybe my standards are slipping.
I pause for a moment to pose this question to you: when you are out at a bar, or in any social setting, what are the first few things out of your mouth when you meet someone? In Manhattan, there is actually a script. Good God, there must be, 'cause everyone you encounter asks you about the same thing "where are you from? Why are you here? What do you do?" I find that these questions are asked everywhere - they are a good way to find similar interests and people in common, but all in all, it's the lazy approach.
So, the aforementioned drunken package (take that term however you want) peered at me blearily when I got past his name (I have since forgotten it), asked him where he was from (New Zealand) and moved on to what he did for a living. "Right," he says, "the interview questions." and heaves a big sigh.
Huh.
I must say, that statement right there piqued my interest. I do love a challenge. Put on the spot like that and a little bit frazzled over having an intelligent, verbal sparing match with the human Leaning Tower of Pisa, the best rapid fire, indignant response I could come up with was "Fine! Then what's your favorite color?" Wha'? Who replaced me with the lame girl?
We managed a few more lopsided encounters, with me eye-checking my friends to keep them from intervening at one point when boy wonder actually started leaning on ME. His exit came when I had focused my attention on the bartender, turned back around, and found him vanished. Actually, Lindz said he stumbled away taking out several bystanders in his path, but the bar was busy and it took me awhile to get my beer so, to me, *poof* he was gone.
But what good is someone if they don't make you think? Here are my mental notes from this chance encounter:
1. Stop meeting men at bars (this doesn't count, it's on every list and it's really only worked out for me once)
2. Mix it up a little when meeting new people. If they're cool, they will play along when you ask them "what color are the walls in your apartment?" or "what was the name of your childhood teddy bear?" If they are not, they'll look at you like your head is on fire (a look that I am well acquainted with) and slap out of the boxing ring gracefully.
3. As I am a girl, my handle on the guy perspective is a little skewed. I try to put myself in their shoes, and sometimes I'm told that I should have been a guy 'cause I tend towards thinking and acting like one, but really I haven't a clue. What they must think when girls trot out the standard fare of introductory lingo...seems like they might be wondering why they felt like they were on a job interview instead of meeting a pretty girl.
4. From here on out, I will be disappointed if these questions come out of my mouth. I hereby pledge to ask guys questions that will allow me to get to know them, instead of sizing him up like a prospector inspecting a gold nugget.
Discuss amongst yourselves.
I was out a couple of weeks ago at this place called the Beauty Bar, aptly named b/c it sports a full bar and a nail tech (no I'm not a Manhattanite pro, I just can't think of a better term) who will give you a manicure whilst you kick back with your friends and enjoy a nice cold Newcastle. Bliss.
I, unfortunately b/c my nails are RAGGED, did not partake in the spa moment, but I did meet a very interesting character. I'll set up the situation by telling you that my last words of the evening to this Man were "I wish I could have met you when you were sober." Ah, how many nights have I ended on that note? Anyhow, this guy was, well, what I consider the full package...minus the fact that he was listing-to-the-side-intoxicated...usually not enticing by any means, but this was an exception. What can I say, maybe my standards are slipping.
I pause for a moment to pose this question to you: when you are out at a bar, or in any social setting, what are the first few things out of your mouth when you meet someone? In Manhattan, there is actually a script. Good God, there must be, 'cause everyone you encounter asks you about the same thing "where are you from? Why are you here? What do you do?" I find that these questions are asked everywhere - they are a good way to find similar interests and people in common, but all in all, it's the lazy approach.
So, the aforementioned drunken package (take that term however you want) peered at me blearily when I got past his name (I have since forgotten it), asked him where he was from (New Zealand) and moved on to what he did for a living. "Right," he says, "the interview questions." and heaves a big sigh.
Huh.
I must say, that statement right there piqued my interest. I do love a challenge. Put on the spot like that and a little bit frazzled over having an intelligent, verbal sparing match with the human Leaning Tower of Pisa, the best rapid fire, indignant response I could come up with was "Fine! Then what's your favorite color?" Wha'? Who replaced me with the lame girl?
We managed a few more lopsided encounters, with me eye-checking my friends to keep them from intervening at one point when boy wonder actually started leaning on ME. His exit came when I had focused my attention on the bartender, turned back around, and found him vanished. Actually, Lindz said he stumbled away taking out several bystanders in his path, but the bar was busy and it took me awhile to get my beer so, to me, *poof* he was gone.
But what good is someone if they don't make you think? Here are my mental notes from this chance encounter:
1. Stop meeting men at bars (this doesn't count, it's on every list and it's really only worked out for me once)
2. Mix it up a little when meeting new people. If they're cool, they will play along when you ask them "what color are the walls in your apartment?" or "what was the name of your childhood teddy bear?" If they are not, they'll look at you like your head is on fire (a look that I am well acquainted with) and slap out of the boxing ring gracefully.
3. As I am a girl, my handle on the guy perspective is a little skewed. I try to put myself in their shoes, and sometimes I'm told that I should have been a guy 'cause I tend towards thinking and acting like one, but really I haven't a clue. What they must think when girls trot out the standard fare of introductory lingo...seems like they might be wondering why they felt like they were on a job interview instead of meeting a pretty girl.
4. From here on out, I will be disappointed if these questions come out of my mouth. I hereby pledge to ask guys questions that will allow me to get to know them, instead of sizing him up like a prospector inspecting a gold nugget.
Discuss amongst yourselves.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Do you like it like that?
Good.
Me too.
For the life of me, I cannot stave off that impatient nature...right NOW...
I want to make my "nature" tangible, and then shake it by the shoulders, slap it lightly about the face, douse it in cold water, and man, if that doesn't work, beat all hell out of it with a stick...whatever it takes to keep me from leaping before I look only to end up right back where I started. I would rather deal with the rocky shores of being alone than be back in the vast ocean of where I came from. That's a road that needs to be less traveled for me.
I want to reap the benefits without sewing the seeds that will lead to the REAL rewards - why am I such a pop-culture instant gratification no patience kinda kid?
Good.
Me too.
For the life of me, I cannot stave off that impatient nature...right NOW...
I want to make my "nature" tangible, and then shake it by the shoulders, slap it lightly about the face, douse it in cold water, and man, if that doesn't work, beat all hell out of it with a stick...whatever it takes to keep me from leaping before I look only to end up right back where I started. I would rather deal with the rocky shores of being alone than be back in the vast ocean of where I came from. That's a road that needs to be less traveled for me.
I want to reap the benefits without sewing the seeds that will lead to the REAL rewards - why am I such a pop-culture instant gratification no patience kinda kid?
Saturday, July 08, 2006
I believe that God created the Fire that I am messing with.
I believe that I have been akin to an insolent teenager in my relationship with God. I've basically told him with my actions, or lack there of, and thoughts that "yeah, I get it. Higher power. You're in charge. I trust in You, here to do Your will, but I'm gonna do things my way first, 'k? Only to ask for you to pick me up and brush me off, set me in the right direction, every time I stumble and inevitably fall. Again and again."
Age old story really. "Nothing to see here, folks. Move it along." As humans we are equally cocky and needy, invincible and fragile, all knowing and without any damn answers at all. NO ONE knows what they are doing. Your best bet is to figure out how in this world to stand above it all, every day and every heartbeat. While it is a struggle for me to get out of bed each day, and stay out of it for the whole day - there is such a desire to leave my time stamp on this place that it's frightening. I am not scared of that passion. I am scared that I will never bring it to life, never hold its brand new head in the moonlight to sip at the atmosphere and the salty water that it would need to create the red blood and tough skin that it takes to survive.
If whatever this is stays stuck inside of me, it will die. I'm running out of things to feed it - it's growing tired of sampling the buffet of old bad habits and ridiculous rituals, drinking from the tonic of fear and laziness that I've been using to numb its fervor for years. It doesn't want to play with society's toys anymore; the offerings of beauty and money and SAMENESS are batted away, making it frustrated and enraged. Now it's become menacing, threatening to give up and lay down and wave the white flag of regret and resignation, fade away fitfully with the millions of other souls that have done this very thing.
If whatever this is dies, then...WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS THE POINT?
Some say faith. Some say money. Power. Making a difference. Making yourself happy. Making others happy.
Well once again I feel the buoyant need to welling up inside of me to scream "AHHH! Shut UP!" To all of those voices. I am tired of them clawing at me, distracting me, making me the poster child for adult ADD, leaving me feeling inadequate and empty. You may be reading this now and thinking "what is she ON about? Batty girl." And I am thinking that it is my desire to say "I don't care if you don't get it" that is pulling the polar opposite direction of my desire to make you all understand me. If I can't stop that tug of war then I will be nothing. that I am proud of. I want nothing if not to be unique. I enjoy the beat of my different drum, and I'd prefer to dance, not march, to it. Insert whining here "why's it gotta be so hard?"
I believe that I have been akin to an insolent teenager in my relationship with God. I've basically told him with my actions, or lack there of, and thoughts that "yeah, I get it. Higher power. You're in charge. I trust in You, here to do Your will, but I'm gonna do things my way first, 'k? Only to ask for you to pick me up and brush me off, set me in the right direction, every time I stumble and inevitably fall. Again and again."
Age old story really. "Nothing to see here, folks. Move it along." As humans we are equally cocky and needy, invincible and fragile, all knowing and without any damn answers at all. NO ONE knows what they are doing. Your best bet is to figure out how in this world to stand above it all, every day and every heartbeat. While it is a struggle for me to get out of bed each day, and stay out of it for the whole day - there is such a desire to leave my time stamp on this place that it's frightening. I am not scared of that passion. I am scared that I will never bring it to life, never hold its brand new head in the moonlight to sip at the atmosphere and the salty water that it would need to create the red blood and tough skin that it takes to survive.
If whatever this is stays stuck inside of me, it will die. I'm running out of things to feed it - it's growing tired of sampling the buffet of old bad habits and ridiculous rituals, drinking from the tonic of fear and laziness that I've been using to numb its fervor for years. It doesn't want to play with society's toys anymore; the offerings of beauty and money and SAMENESS are batted away, making it frustrated and enraged. Now it's become menacing, threatening to give up and lay down and wave the white flag of regret and resignation, fade away fitfully with the millions of other souls that have done this very thing.
If whatever this is dies, then...WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS THE POINT?
Some say faith. Some say money. Power. Making a difference. Making yourself happy. Making others happy.
Well once again I feel the buoyant need to welling up inside of me to scream "AHHH! Shut UP!" To all of those voices. I am tired of them clawing at me, distracting me, making me the poster child for adult ADD, leaving me feeling inadequate and empty. You may be reading this now and thinking "what is she ON about? Batty girl." And I am thinking that it is my desire to say "I don't care if you don't get it" that is pulling the polar opposite direction of my desire to make you all understand me. If I can't stop that tug of war then I will be nothing. that I am proud of. I want nothing if not to be unique. I enjoy the beat of my different drum, and I'd prefer to dance, not march, to it. Insert whining here "why's it gotta be so hard?"
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Penney says that the world is gonna end.
Well, I say...
PONY UP! Let's get this shit done right!
Now that I've gotten the redneck outta my system...
I'm going to try and strive for NOT VAGUE. I know at least one person who will appreciate that. The rest of you might wish I would have let Pandora keep her box shut.
It is a blast to find out my only cousin has good, sensible, diverse taste in music. That way, if he's the only one left to take care of me and the cats when I get old, at least I can rest assured that my ears won't bleed or I won't be killed from boredom.
That's all I got.
Well, I say...
PONY UP! Let's get this shit done right!
Now that I've gotten the redneck outta my system...
I'm going to try and strive for NOT VAGUE. I know at least one person who will appreciate that. The rest of you might wish I would have let Pandora keep her box shut.
It is a blast to find out my only cousin has good, sensible, diverse taste in music. That way, if he's the only one left to take care of me and the cats when I get old, at least I can rest assured that my ears won't bleed or I won't be killed from boredom.
That's all I got.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Friday, April 21, 2006
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
If the actual event could invoke the feelings that the anticipation created, life would indeed be grand.
I live in a pretend world.
I may joke, call my existence parallel and extoll you with tales of talking to myself and how things happen in MY world...but really I'm not fooling...myself - I CREATE MY OWN UNIVERSE. And I am slowly beginning to avoid living in the "real" one all I can.
I live in a pretend world.
I may joke, call my existence parallel and extoll you with tales of talking to myself and how things happen in MY world...but really I'm not fooling...myself - I CREATE MY OWN UNIVERSE. And I am slowly beginning to avoid living in the "real" one all I can.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
I can see
myself
calling out your
name
and meeting
a knowing glance.
Is it fair
that when it
rains
it pours?
Why do we have to kill the magic with reality? Will I always have to hold and see how long it'll be before the bomb drops?
That's exactly
what a muse is...
music
ambiance
and the gentleman barfly
touting a very interesting
prospect.
When exactly did I become a Gold Miner?
myself
calling out your
name
and meeting
a knowing glance.
Is it fair
that when it
rains
it pours?
Why do we have to kill the magic with reality? Will I always have to hold and see how long it'll be before the bomb drops?
That's exactly
what a muse is...
music
ambiance
and the gentleman barfly
touting a very interesting
prospect.
When exactly did I become a Gold Miner?
Friday, March 03, 2006
Awww! The Kids! Everybody, meet Ashley, Eric, and Tim. That's me on the right, for those of you who haven't seen me for awhile!
So I managed to get an internet signal for, oh, probably six seconds. Now watch, though. I'll write the prize-worthy prose of my life thus far and lose it all 'cause I'm still too cheap to get internet. *Knock on wood*...wait, is cheap IKEA furniture even made out of wood?
I have to say this. Because I can't control my mouth...what? At least I know...but I have to say that I really do hate you. I do. I hate you. Even though I believe that hate is wasted energy. Even though I understand that hate indicates true, deep feelings, whatever those may be. I do. It'll go away and I'll read this years from now and laugh and be embarassed that I was so intense, once again. But I've never really been one to deny how I feel. Why start now?
K, now that I've gotten that outta the way...
By the way, I'm scheming. And by scheming I do mean planning and biding my time until I get what I came here for. If nothing else, being surrounded by all that surrounds me makes me salivate over what I want even more. And ya'll know me when I'm hungry. I drool. tehe. Or I indulge in what I want.
There are definite benefits to knowing what I want. Cheers to being an only child.
The spell check isn't working right now. Forgive me.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Saturday, February 04, 2006
"Eddie, huh?
And you're a Marine?
Right. I gotta go. "
I swear to you I have radar.
Happiness of the day:
A new little person has been added to our extended family list. Welcome, Lillian Claire Kibler! You're just here, and there are so many that love you already. Bless, baby girl!
Saddness of the day:
Stace, it's so hard. I'm here for you babe, and we're keeping your Grandma in our thoughts. I love you.
You broke with your pattern
you want to let flow
the trillions of addicts
that make you so slow.
Each love that you're scared of,
each failure you meet
passes you the handcuffs
with a smile, so sweet.
Daggers will cut you
boulders will sway
only to tempt
all the passion away.
Chains will embrace you
and although you weep
your best bet for freedom
is getting to your feet.
Champion of nothing
but master of all
when beauty and charm lose,
what will save you from The Fall?
You can't stand the darkness
the light burns your eyes
grey areas create patterns
and no one will ever be the wise.
It all may destroy you,
your hard earned facade.
But do you want the world to lose you
and not even feel odd?
And you're a Marine?
Right. I gotta go. "
I swear to you I have radar.
Happiness of the day:
A new little person has been added to our extended family list. Welcome, Lillian Claire Kibler! You're just here, and there are so many that love you already. Bless, baby girl!
Saddness of the day:
Stace, it's so hard. I'm here for you babe, and we're keeping your Grandma in our thoughts. I love you.
You broke with your pattern
you want to let flow
the trillions of addicts
that make you so slow.
Each love that you're scared of,
each failure you meet
passes you the handcuffs
with a smile, so sweet.
Daggers will cut you
boulders will sway
only to tempt
all the passion away.
Chains will embrace you
and although you weep
your best bet for freedom
is getting to your feet.
Champion of nothing
but master of all
when beauty and charm lose,
what will save you from The Fall?
You can't stand the darkness
the light burns your eyes
grey areas create patterns
and no one will ever be the wise.
It all may destroy you,
your hard earned facade.
But do you want the world to lose you
and not even feel odd?
Saturday, January 21, 2006
As the tears
penetrate the Level V
of my eyes,
the Pureness of
the First
Raw
un-thought of emotion
rolls down my cheeks,
Recklessly abandoning
The spirit of my
stubborn, sacred rigidness.
Finally, I am spent.
There is nothing so powerful as letting the walls fall down.
Even if only for a slip of time. Even if only in the dark, alone. Ironically, being alone in the dark with no walls makes me want to laugh, and cry, and lay my cheek against your heart...maybe not again, but definitely someday.
How's that for vague, Monkey?
Thanks to William and the Girls for a beautiful evening. My heart is too big to pin on my sleeve, filled as it is with love for this City. Filled as it is...my memories will always warm me.
penetrate the Level V
of my eyes,
the Pureness of
the First
Raw
un-thought of emotion
rolls down my cheeks,
Recklessly abandoning
The spirit of my
stubborn, sacred rigidness.
Finally, I am spent.
There is nothing so powerful as letting the walls fall down.
Even if only for a slip of time. Even if only in the dark, alone. Ironically, being alone in the dark with no walls makes me want to laugh, and cry, and lay my cheek against your heart...maybe not again, but definitely someday.
How's that for vague, Monkey?
Thanks to William and the Girls for a beautiful evening. My heart is too big to pin on my sleeve, filled as it is with love for this City. Filled as it is...my memories will always warm me.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
I slept away the better part of yesterday...
Woke up long enough to speak to my Mom, and what did I tell her, of all the things I did yesterday?
I held a baby.
Might not mean anything to you, but it's Miracle Grow for my mind, apparently.
Well, the discovery was delayed, but I've finally found what Broadway shows are all about. The are all about FABULOUS! Yea, I said it. I was skeptical at first, but they really are quite magical. We saw The Odd Couple the first night, and it was flippin' hilarious. The energy between the actors, the detail of the sets, the reverence and tradition of the theatre goers...I'm tellin' you some of those people took this VVVERY seriously. The best thing was, I knew one of the actors (Mike Starr, who played Murray) and I got to see him on his second night with the show!! We went to see Rent the next night, and there are very few times that I can say something like that has made my face leak...literally, tears with no effort what so ever, they just CAME OUT. It was so beautiful, so passionate and sweet. What talented, amazing people.
I'm fighting all of the old demons, full force. Some I feel like I have under control...ummm, kind of, and others are really winning the battle. I feel like I've got the war all sewed up though, so I won't be too picky.
It's supposed to snow again tonight. I find myself looking for it every five seconds, because the first moments of snow freeze time. Makes everything quiet. It all stops, just for a fraction of an instant, and it is blissful. The flakes are fat and soft, feathery, like down from an angel's wing. Now I know I'm not caught smack in the middle of the bunches of snow storms back to back, so that's why I still like it now. Catch me next month when I'm bitterly cursing every particle of the white condensation.
I'm getting strong enough to face it all. I'm just becoming quite curious as to what "it" will be.
Woke up long enough to speak to my Mom, and what did I tell her, of all the things I did yesterday?
I held a baby.
Might not mean anything to you, but it's Miracle Grow for my mind, apparently.
Well, the discovery was delayed, but I've finally found what Broadway shows are all about. The are all about FABULOUS! Yea, I said it. I was skeptical at first, but they really are quite magical. We saw The Odd Couple the first night, and it was flippin' hilarious. The energy between the actors, the detail of the sets, the reverence and tradition of the theatre goers...I'm tellin' you some of those people took this VVVERY seriously. The best thing was, I knew one of the actors (Mike Starr, who played Murray) and I got to see him on his second night with the show!! We went to see Rent the next night, and there are very few times that I can say something like that has made my face leak...literally, tears with no effort what so ever, they just CAME OUT. It was so beautiful, so passionate and sweet. What talented, amazing people.
I'm fighting all of the old demons, full force. Some I feel like I have under control...ummm, kind of, and others are really winning the battle. I feel like I've got the war all sewed up though, so I won't be too picky.
It's supposed to snow again tonight. I find myself looking for it every five seconds, because the first moments of snow freeze time. Makes everything quiet. It all stops, just for a fraction of an instant, and it is blissful. The flakes are fat and soft, feathery, like down from an angel's wing. Now I know I'm not caught smack in the middle of the bunches of snow storms back to back, so that's why I still like it now. Catch me next month when I'm bitterly cursing every particle of the white condensation.
I'm getting strong enough to face it all. I'm just becoming quite curious as to what "it" will be.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
God. Fiiiinnaally...
TURN THE WHEEL, PULL THE BRAKE. "I turned the wheel, and pulled the brake. I am sooo not trying to be funny right now!"
Thank you Sammy Wright. You broke my heart, but I came out of our "relationship" with more than a few valuable lessons. Most having to do with cars, but none the less...
And YOU...I was so HAPPY to see you. Settling into yourself. Becoming more of the woman that I knew you will be. Whatever. It makes sense in my head.
Man, I can just HOPE that you read this.
What a ride this has been. 4 months gone, and it's still the same. Shawn says that it'll never change. I tend to agree with her, but then there's the fact that I refuse to say never. And I cannot even begin to describe the mixed emotions that I feel finally finding a home and then having to leave it. I say have like it was a necessity. Those that know me, know I'm not being typical drama queen. I HAD TO GO. The flip side of that may eventually be that I HAD TO COME BACK. But oh my GOD, I am loving every second of being there. Can my soul belong to two places and still find another soul to belong to?
TURN THE WHEEL, PULL THE BRAKE. "I turned the wheel, and pulled the brake. I am sooo not trying to be funny right now!"
Thank you Sammy Wright. You broke my heart, but I came out of our "relationship" with more than a few valuable lessons. Most having to do with cars, but none the less...
And YOU...I was so HAPPY to see you. Settling into yourself. Becoming more of the woman that I knew you will be. Whatever. It makes sense in my head.
Man, I can just HOPE that you read this.
What a ride this has been. 4 months gone, and it's still the same. Shawn says that it'll never change. I tend to agree with her, but then there's the fact that I refuse to say never. And I cannot even begin to describe the mixed emotions that I feel finally finding a home and then having to leave it. I say have like it was a necessity. Those that know me, know I'm not being typical drama queen. I HAD TO GO. The flip side of that may eventually be that I HAD TO COME BACK. But oh my GOD, I am loving every second of being there. Can my soul belong to two places and still find another soul to belong to?
Saturday, November 19, 2005
"It's a beautifuull day..."
Yeah for the Ashley, AKA the Weather Girl, calling me three time from the U2 concert in Hot-lanta. I'm miles and miles away, and I still got chills listening to them over the phone. Two of the Four get to rock it out - I'm so simultaneously jealous of and happy for you.
Matthew if I knew your middle name I would put it here Hevey, if you do not call me soon I will begin to take it personally it's not as if I smell bad or look funny because I am far far away and I would rather not be worried about you anymore at least e-mail me your address so I can send you a CD that I bought specifically for you because the band made me think of you and I miss you so throw a sister a bone here. Whew!
I HATE BEING A WAITRESS. It's all in the title; SERVE-R. One who SERVES. Blech. Is what I think about that.
Oh boy, am I in a mood. Think I'll go to bed and let my spirit ruminate on this one in my dreams.
Yeah for the Ashley, AKA the Weather Girl, calling me three time from the U2 concert in Hot-lanta. I'm miles and miles away, and I still got chills listening to them over the phone. Two of the Four get to rock it out - I'm so simultaneously jealous of and happy for you.
Matthew if I knew your middle name I would put it here Hevey, if you do not call me soon I will begin to take it personally it's not as if I smell bad or look funny because I am far far away and I would rather not be worried about you anymore at least e-mail me your address so I can send you a CD that I bought specifically for you because the band made me think of you and I miss you so throw a sister a bone here. Whew!
I HATE BEING A WAITRESS. It's all in the title; SERVE-R. One who SERVES. Blech. Is what I think about that.
Oh boy, am I in a mood. Think I'll go to bed and let my spirit ruminate on this one in my dreams.
Friday, November 18, 2005
"Met a girl in the setting sun...
knew right away she was a special one...
lost the girl but she soon returned...
with one more chance and a
lesson learned..."
Alonely - Panic and the Rebel Emergency
That's right, I'm talkin' to you.
I saw a band tonight, at Arlene's Grocery in the East Village. A bit of sublime revisited. A bit of the St. Augustine, Stir It Up flavor. "Every little thing's, gonna be alright..." MY GOD. I fell in love again tonight. Such a voice. Such a combination of hemp cord and silk...the way life should feel, the way love should be. Rough and hard and beautifully sweet. And the energy - these guys loved each other, what they were doing, the music that inhabited their souls that they were now able to share with us. I know that I have some creativity of my own to share. And I think I should be so blessed.
So naturally my mind goes into high gear, and I start thinking of all the wise things I've heard people say about doing what you love. It seems to me that letting go of the inhibitions, reaching for what you want and what you really and truly desire, starts those things that are supposed to happen in motion. "Here I am life. Here is everything good, everything bad that I possess, take it, it's yours." In return, you get what you came here for. Not to say that life is a fairytale; all will be perfect in the end, with white horses and wonderful princes and castles in a cloudless, sunset-tinted sky. But life will be real, ya know? Something that just is, instead of an existence that is forced into some little mold that everyone assumes is happiness.
Thank God. Thank You so much for the music. The words. They are what life is to me. And thank You for allowing me to be in a place where all of this is at my fingertips.
"Here I am waiting...
waiting patiently...
'cause I know my blessing
is coming to me yeah
here I am kneeling on my knees
giving thanks and praises
for all I recieve yeah
Oh it's never as hard as it seems...
as long as there's life there are hopes
and dreams..."
Here I am - Panic and The Rebel Emergency
knew right away she was a special one...
lost the girl but she soon returned...
with one more chance and a
lesson learned..."
Alonely - Panic and the Rebel Emergency
That's right, I'm talkin' to you.
I saw a band tonight, at Arlene's Grocery in the East Village. A bit of sublime revisited. A bit of the St. Augustine, Stir It Up flavor. "Every little thing's, gonna be alright..." MY GOD. I fell in love again tonight. Such a voice. Such a combination of hemp cord and silk...the way life should feel, the way love should be. Rough and hard and beautifully sweet. And the energy - these guys loved each other, what they were doing, the music that inhabited their souls that they were now able to share with us. I know that I have some creativity of my own to share. And I think I should be so blessed.
So naturally my mind goes into high gear, and I start thinking of all the wise things I've heard people say about doing what you love. It seems to me that letting go of the inhibitions, reaching for what you want and what you really and truly desire, starts those things that are supposed to happen in motion. "Here I am life. Here is everything good, everything bad that I possess, take it, it's yours." In return, you get what you came here for. Not to say that life is a fairytale; all will be perfect in the end, with white horses and wonderful princes and castles in a cloudless, sunset-tinted sky. But life will be real, ya know? Something that just is, instead of an existence that is forced into some little mold that everyone assumes is happiness.
Thank God. Thank You so much for the music. The words. They are what life is to me. And thank You for allowing me to be in a place where all of this is at my fingertips.
"Here I am waiting...
waiting patiently...
'cause I know my blessing
is coming to me yeah
here I am kneeling on my knees
giving thanks and praises
for all I recieve yeah
Oh it's never as hard as it seems...
as long as there's life there are hopes
and dreams..."
Here I am - Panic and The Rebel Emergency
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
I really appreciate Irony. That's all I'm saying.
"This bread is cold."
"Well we can't have that, may I bring you some more?"
"But this bread is cold."
"Yes ma'am, and I'll be right back with some warm bread for you."
"Are you going to bring us some bread that's warm?"
"I sure will, and would you like some more warm bread as well?"
"Yes, that will be fine."
I swear, this woman was well over three hundred years old and that was the only reason her life was spared. My sanity, however, suffered a serious blow. What's funny is, the bread wasn't supposed to be warm. But you're not gonna find me arguing with an eccentric blue-hair whose got more money than Trump and probably more influence. She even asked me later if I was ok after I dropped that big tray. I wasn't in the dining room when the tray was dropped but I told her I was fine and it was nice that she was asking after my well-being. Her concern was touching really, even though she couldn't have picked me out of a line-up with all of the male waiters. It's not her fault she can't see.
I joke around, but really this lady was quite charming, if quite deaf. That's one of the things I love about working at this restaurant, the distinguished, older clientele. Two in particular stand out as my favorites.
The Gentleman
By far the most impressive gentleman I have yet to meet, a man who still lives up to the title, is Mr. Butler, who comes in every Sunday for brunch. He dines alone, though I am sure there would be several people willing to break bread with him. Many people know of him; you might say he has a fan club of sorts. Dapper to the point of beauty, he arrives dressed in a three-piece suit, overcoat, and umbrella, even when it's not raining. He knows several of us by name (including me, I am proud to say) and nods and smiles regally at the other guests as he is shown to his table. He has an appetizer, an entree and two glasses of red wine. The red wine served with his meal is always Italian...he is actually the reason we changed our wine list to include more Italian wines, because he diplomatically expressed his disappointment with the fact that there were so few on the list. Sometimes he splurges and orders dessert, but not often, and sometimes, between courses, none of us are surprised to see him catching a quick cat nap, chin resting lightly on his chest. I'm not sure how old Mr. Butler is, but if asked to venture a guess, I would say between 70 and 80. I am impressed by him simply because of the class that he exudes. He is gentle and kind, but commands respect, and I wouldn't be surprised if he knew the true meaning of life and several of the secrets involved with living well and happily. He wishes us all a good week when he departs, and heads on his way home. If only there were more like him.
The Retired New York Broad
I mean the term broad as no offense, but more of an admiring recognition of one of my own, well aged and funny as hell. Her name is Madeline, Miss Madeline to me, and while she annoys the aprons off of most the staff, I think she is brazen and therefore great. When I waited on her, she asked for a Bloody Mary "Less bloody and more mary...I swear I ask for it like that everytime, but it always come out the same way." complimentarysay, she enjoyed her complimetary beverage, as well as her friend's, because the hand that poured each drink was a bit heavy - I swear somebody knocked my elbow...both times. Madeline might come alone, or with a few friends, but she'll tell you that everyone she likes is dead and she's only passing the time with these people. Her friends may or may not be sitting there when she says it, and they'll either insult her back or blatantly ignore her. If her companions are a pain she'll tell you to ignore them, nevermind that fact that she is pushy and picky as well. But she can be charmed and becomes fabulous when she relaxes. It's the attention she desires, and she'll do what she can to get it. I'm all for giving to this wonderful character.
I hope I get to be as impressive as these two.
"This bread is cold."
"Well we can't have that, may I bring you some more?"
"But this bread is cold."
"Yes ma'am, and I'll be right back with some warm bread for you."
"Are you going to bring us some bread that's warm?"
"I sure will, and would you like some more warm bread as well?"
"Yes, that will be fine."
I swear, this woman was well over three hundred years old and that was the only reason her life was spared. My sanity, however, suffered a serious blow. What's funny is, the bread wasn't supposed to be warm. But you're not gonna find me arguing with an eccentric blue-hair whose got more money than Trump and probably more influence. She even asked me later if I was ok after I dropped that big tray. I wasn't in the dining room when the tray was dropped but I told her I was fine and it was nice that she was asking after my well-being. Her concern was touching really, even though she couldn't have picked me out of a line-up with all of the male waiters. It's not her fault she can't see.
I joke around, but really this lady was quite charming, if quite deaf. That's one of the things I love about working at this restaurant, the distinguished, older clientele. Two in particular stand out as my favorites.
The Gentleman
By far the most impressive gentleman I have yet to meet, a man who still lives up to the title, is Mr. Butler, who comes in every Sunday for brunch. He dines alone, though I am sure there would be several people willing to break bread with him. Many people know of him; you might say he has a fan club of sorts. Dapper to the point of beauty, he arrives dressed in a three-piece suit, overcoat, and umbrella, even when it's not raining. He knows several of us by name (including me, I am proud to say) and nods and smiles regally at the other guests as he is shown to his table. He has an appetizer, an entree and two glasses of red wine. The red wine served with his meal is always Italian...he is actually the reason we changed our wine list to include more Italian wines, because he diplomatically expressed his disappointment with the fact that there were so few on the list. Sometimes he splurges and orders dessert, but not often, and sometimes, between courses, none of us are surprised to see him catching a quick cat nap, chin resting lightly on his chest. I'm not sure how old Mr. Butler is, but if asked to venture a guess, I would say between 70 and 80. I am impressed by him simply because of the class that he exudes. He is gentle and kind, but commands respect, and I wouldn't be surprised if he knew the true meaning of life and several of the secrets involved with living well and happily. He wishes us all a good week when he departs, and heads on his way home. If only there were more like him.
The Retired New York Broad
I mean the term broad as no offense, but more of an admiring recognition of one of my own, well aged and funny as hell. Her name is Madeline, Miss Madeline to me, and while she annoys the aprons off of most the staff, I think she is brazen and therefore great. When I waited on her, she asked for a Bloody Mary "Less bloody and more mary...I swear I ask for it like that everytime, but it always come out the same way." complimentarysay, she enjoyed her complimetary beverage, as well as her friend's, because the hand that poured each drink was a bit heavy - I swear somebody knocked my elbow...both times. Madeline might come alone, or with a few friends, but she'll tell you that everyone she likes is dead and she's only passing the time with these people. Her friends may or may not be sitting there when she says it, and they'll either insult her back or blatantly ignore her. If her companions are a pain she'll tell you to ignore them, nevermind that fact that she is pushy and picky as well. But she can be charmed and becomes fabulous when she relaxes. It's the attention she desires, and she'll do what she can to get it. I'm all for giving to this wonderful character.
I hope I get to be as impressive as these two.
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