I took three tries before I got my Blogger password right. I guess that means I'll never be able to hack myself.
That is....a bit wrong.
Anyway.
I'm not in CA. I'm in another state. And I'm tired. So tired. My sister is a worse night owl than me. And we really shouldn't stay in the same bedroom. We're a high school slumber party gone awry. We don't sleep. This is the second night I've been up all night.
I have a theory about staying up late. Clarification: I have a theory about staying up late and talking with other people. This theory only works if the lights are off, or if you are camping and sitting around a campfire.
It is much easier to talk to someone at night when you can't see their face. Have you ever noticed that to be true? I find it very soothing and reassuring to talk to a person when I can't see their emotions splayed out across their face, waiting for my reception. Saying hard things is easier in the dark and saying sincere, sentimental words are easier in the dark too. And, for me, it is much more comfortable to talk to someone when I don't have to look at their eyes. For some people this is a trust thing. I've heard people say that they don't trust another person who doesn't look them in the eyes when they're talking. But honestly, I get incredibly distracted when I'm looking into a person's eyes while talking and listening. I'd much rather stare at a fixed point or play with something lame, or doodle than look at someone while their talking....or even look at them while I'm talking.
Maybe we (humans) just really like to think that we're secret beings, who can't possibly be vivisected in daylight. Our emotions are too fragile to be seen in the glare of the sun. The moon and the stars are much gentler handlers of the tiny pieces of our hearts. They don't demand resolution or expect an answer. The moon whispers reassurances and the stars smile and dance with us to the music of night breezes. The night is a beautiful time for confession.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Beans
Goodness.
Musicians are sexy. Seriously. I was just watching a video of a guy I know playing the bass. I would never in my entire life be attracted to this boy, but as his fingers were flying up and down the neck of that bass I couldn't help but feel a little drawn to his excellent bassist abilities. I'm a sucker for people who can play instruments. Deep down in my heart I've always known this.
I'm reading another Barbara Kingsolver book. She makes me feel like I'm home. I've always suspected that I should be living somewhere where people talk in southern accents and time goes slower than normal, but I've never been able to get there. Bakersfield is as close as I get, it gets more like LA by the year. The lovely Ms. Kingsolver is a fairly good writer. I'm reading her first book right now; I read a later one earlier this month. The later one was better. I suppose writers get better with time. Who would have thought? :D The story is interesting though. I really want Taylor to meet Jax. He's my favorite character.
Tomorrow I'm going to my grandparent's house to pretend like I'm a country girl who doesn't live in the suburbs. Both my grandparents are going crazy. My whole family is sad because at some point in the near future we're going to have to get rid of their 11 acre property that we've all come to love so much. In a fit of silliness one night, my mom suggested that I move in with them and take care of them, the house, the property, and go to school. That plan is part pleasant dream and part nightmare.
Tonight my mom and I were talking about the future like we were two thirds of the Fates. I felt so out of control and small that I got frustrated and then angry. I have to work to remember that God is the one taking care of all this shadow and nonsense.
Musicians are sexy. Seriously. I was just watching a video of a guy I know playing the bass. I would never in my entire life be attracted to this boy, but as his fingers were flying up and down the neck of that bass I couldn't help but feel a little drawn to his excellent bassist abilities. I'm a sucker for people who can play instruments. Deep down in my heart I've always known this.
I'm reading another Barbara Kingsolver book. She makes me feel like I'm home. I've always suspected that I should be living somewhere where people talk in southern accents and time goes slower than normal, but I've never been able to get there. Bakersfield is as close as I get, it gets more like LA by the year. The lovely Ms. Kingsolver is a fairly good writer. I'm reading her first book right now; I read a later one earlier this month. The later one was better. I suppose writers get better with time. Who would have thought? :D The story is interesting though. I really want Taylor to meet Jax. He's my favorite character.
Tomorrow I'm going to my grandparent's house to pretend like I'm a country girl who doesn't live in the suburbs. Both my grandparents are going crazy. My whole family is sad because at some point in the near future we're going to have to get rid of their 11 acre property that we've all come to love so much. In a fit of silliness one night, my mom suggested that I move in with them and take care of them, the house, the property, and go to school. That plan is part pleasant dream and part nightmare.
Tonight my mom and I were talking about the future like we were two thirds of the Fates. I felt so out of control and small that I got frustrated and then angry. I have to work to remember that God is the one taking care of all this shadow and nonsense.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Sickness of Hearts
Have you ever had a sick heart? Anger really does take me apart, one piece at a time.
I'm not going to molder anymore because of these emotions. They go one way, my sense goes another way. This battle is classic!
I'm not going to molder anymore because of these emotions. They go one way, my sense goes another way. This battle is classic!
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Lucky Duck
You’re in London lucky duck
And I’m stuck here in Bakersfield
Waiting to come and meet you
Waiting to give you a hug and show
You how much I’ve changed
And how much we can really like each other now.
You’re in London lucky duck
And I’m sitting here in my room
Thinking of all the books you’ve read
And recommended like the teacher you are.
I miss your brown hair and gray-blue eyes
Looking at me with fire, spunk and wit.
You’re in London lucky duck
And I’m just a party girl in Bakersfield
Waiting for God to show up
And change everything around
So that life isn’t recognizable anymore
He’s already done that for you hasn’t he?
You’re in London lucky duck
And I’m still awake at 4 a.m.
Sneezing and feeling good-naturedly jealous
Think about what it will be like
To see you in Newark, New Jersey
Shining with the gloss of a sun kiss.
You’re in London lucky duck
And I’m just 21 years old
Still too young to have such an old soul
And maybe when I’m older and
Your children want to come live
With their naughty aunt I’ll be satisfied.
You’re in London lucky duck
And I’m thinking about how much
This whole world with all its bells
And jangles and whistles, with all its
Happiness and sadness and jealousies
Could never amount to how much I love you.
And I’m stuck here in Bakersfield
Waiting to come and meet you
Waiting to give you a hug and show
You how much I’ve changed
And how much we can really like each other now.
You’re in London lucky duck
And I’m sitting here in my room
Thinking of all the books you’ve read
And recommended like the teacher you are.
I miss your brown hair and gray-blue eyes
Looking at me with fire, spunk and wit.
You’re in London lucky duck
And I’m just a party girl in Bakersfield
Waiting for God to show up
And change everything around
So that life isn’t recognizable anymore
He’s already done that for you hasn’t he?
You’re in London lucky duck
And I’m still awake at 4 a.m.
Sneezing and feeling good-naturedly jealous
Think about what it will be like
To see you in Newark, New Jersey
Shining with the gloss of a sun kiss.
You’re in London lucky duck
And I’m just 21 years old
Still too young to have such an old soul
And maybe when I’m older and
Your children want to come live
With their naughty aunt I’ll be satisfied.
You’re in London lucky duck
And I’m thinking about how much
This whole world with all its bells
And jangles and whistles, with all its
Happiness and sadness and jealousies
Could never amount to how much I love you.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Giddy. And a story based on real events.
As you probably gathered after reading the previous post (read the previous post.), I stayed up all night because of a combination of tea and a three hour nap....and coffee this morning. Bad combination for sleep, but I feel really wired and creative.
Moral of the story: Get significantly less sleep.
Here is another thing I wrote this morning because coffee makes me crazy.
Milk
This morning I woke up after not sleeping all night and decided to make some coffee. I got out the delicious Kona blend my dad keeps stashed in the cupboard and went about making myself some sweet, sweet, no-more-sleepiness elixir. I stood there waiting for the coffee to stop dripping through the coffee maker while reading the newspaper. When the coffee was done I went to the fridge and got out the milk. And then, thankfully, I smelled it. Ew. The milk was safely drained down the sink, leaving me with a problem. No milk means no sweet, sweet, no-more-sleepiness elixir. I’m not hardcore. I don’t look at waitresses with a steely eye and say “I’ll take my coffee black, like my women.” I prefer sweet things and, on occasion, fruity things.
The only thing to do when faced with a problem like this is to go and get more milk, of course. The fact that I’m going to get one gallon of milk at 6:30am doesn’t make any difference to me. Coffee is hot when it’s hot and needs milk when it needs milk. So, I got in my car and drove down to Vons, got some milk, and shuffled my way to the cashier. She scanned my milk and I paid for it. While I was paying for the delicious liquid I yawned. The cashier noticed my yawn and said, “It’s too early to be up. But you gotta have some milk.” I laughed with her, shrugged my shoulders, and for a minute I pretended that I was someone else.
I pretended that I was a mom with three kids under the age of seven who are all home for summer vacation. I woke up at 6am and stumbled to the kitchen, ready for some coffee to start the day. Soon my beloved, darling, exuberant children would be awake, begging me for Cap’n Crunch. I go to the refrigerator and look inside. No milk. NO MILK?! Code red! Code red! Alpha, bravo, lexus……whatever! There’s no way that we don’t have any milk. Husband unit just went to the store yesterday! How could he have forgotten to get milk? Screams are stifled, the urge to throw plates on the floor is curbed. I need milk, it’s as simple as that. There’s no way I’m going to sit in this kitchen drinking black coffee when my children wake up. There’s no way I’m going to tell them that they can’t have milk with their Cap’n Crunch this morning. There’s no way I’m going to ever let them know about the Milk Dilemma. I walk to my bedroom, tiptoeing past the little angels’ rooms. My husband is getting ready for work when I rush in and start throwing on random items of clothing. “What’s the matter?” he innocently asks, as if he hasn’t just sent me into homeland security alert mode. “You forgot the milk yesterday. I’m going to the store to get some. Don’t leave until I get back.” I say all of this quickly, while simultaneously grabbing my keys and rushing out the door, careful to make no noise as I walk down the hall and leave the house. As I exit the bedroom I can hear my husband say, “Well, what do you expect? It wasn’t on the list.” I drive down to Vons, listening to Norah Jones and telling my milk woes to the rearview mirror. I get to the cashier and yawn as I’m paying. She notices my yawn and says, “It’s too early to be up. But you gotta have some milk.” I don’t laugh; I just look at her very seriously and say, “With three kids, it’s essential to the well being of my household.” She grins and I grab the milk and go. When I get home Angel #1 is sitting on Daddy’s lap and he’s spoon-feeding her black coffee. I smile sweetly at him and say, “Don’t sabotage me twice in one day.”
Moral of the story: Get significantly less sleep.
Here is another thing I wrote this morning because coffee makes me crazy.
Milk
This morning I woke up after not sleeping all night and decided to make some coffee. I got out the delicious Kona blend my dad keeps stashed in the cupboard and went about making myself some sweet, sweet, no-more-sleepiness elixir. I stood there waiting for the coffee to stop dripping through the coffee maker while reading the newspaper. When the coffee was done I went to the fridge and got out the milk. And then, thankfully, I smelled it. Ew. The milk was safely drained down the sink, leaving me with a problem. No milk means no sweet, sweet, no-more-sleepiness elixir. I’m not hardcore. I don’t look at waitresses with a steely eye and say “I’ll take my coffee black, like my women.” I prefer sweet things and, on occasion, fruity things.
The only thing to do when faced with a problem like this is to go and get more milk, of course. The fact that I’m going to get one gallon of milk at 6:30am doesn’t make any difference to me. Coffee is hot when it’s hot and needs milk when it needs milk. So, I got in my car and drove down to Vons, got some milk, and shuffled my way to the cashier. She scanned my milk and I paid for it. While I was paying for the delicious liquid I yawned. The cashier noticed my yawn and said, “It’s too early to be up. But you gotta have some milk.” I laughed with her, shrugged my shoulders, and for a minute I pretended that I was someone else.
I pretended that I was a mom with three kids under the age of seven who are all home for summer vacation. I woke up at 6am and stumbled to the kitchen, ready for some coffee to start the day. Soon my beloved, darling, exuberant children would be awake, begging me for Cap’n Crunch. I go to the refrigerator and look inside. No milk. NO MILK?! Code red! Code red! Alpha, bravo, lexus……whatever! There’s no way that we don’t have any milk. Husband unit just went to the store yesterday! How could he have forgotten to get milk? Screams are stifled, the urge to throw plates on the floor is curbed. I need milk, it’s as simple as that. There’s no way I’m going to sit in this kitchen drinking black coffee when my children wake up. There’s no way I’m going to tell them that they can’t have milk with their Cap’n Crunch this morning. There’s no way I’m going to ever let them know about the Milk Dilemma. I walk to my bedroom, tiptoeing past the little angels’ rooms. My husband is getting ready for work when I rush in and start throwing on random items of clothing. “What’s the matter?” he innocently asks, as if he hasn’t just sent me into homeland security alert mode. “You forgot the milk yesterday. I’m going to the store to get some. Don’t leave until I get back.” I say all of this quickly, while simultaneously grabbing my keys and rushing out the door, careful to make no noise as I walk down the hall and leave the house. As I exit the bedroom I can hear my husband say, “Well, what do you expect? It wasn’t on the list.” I drive down to Vons, listening to Norah Jones and telling my milk woes to the rearview mirror. I get to the cashier and yawn as I’m paying. She notices my yawn and says, “It’s too early to be up. But you gotta have some milk.” I don’t laugh; I just look at her very seriously and say, “With three kids, it’s essential to the well being of my household.” She grins and I grab the milk and go. When I get home Angel #1 is sitting on Daddy’s lap and he’s spoon-feeding her black coffee. I smile sweetly at him and say, “Don’t sabotage me twice in one day.”
Sleep
Some nights you just don’t get any sleep. You stay awake. Sometimes you toss and turn. There are moments when you are still. A few times you look through the blinds and comment to yourself that it is getting light out there. For the first time in months you witness a sunrise. Suddenly 100 degree weather doesn’t seem so terrible on this July dawn. There’s water on the grass that looks like dew. Anyone who wasn’t awake to hear the sprinklers turn on and off at five this morning would think that water was dew. The newspaper is already on the driveway. Your bare shoulders are giving you the chills. Maybe getting back under the covers and closing your eyes would make sense. But so would drawing a bath and soaking for some minutes. Besides, when you close your eyes and lie in bed for an hour and sleep hasn’t come yet you start to think it might be better to just stay awake all night. Face it, some nights you just don’t get any sleep.
Now you’re looking out the window like a reverse voyeur. There’s an old man you’ve never seen before walking down the street. He’s looking around suspiciously, although you can’t imagine why. Your busybody neighbor who goes to sleep at 7 pm has been up for at least an hour. His son and business partner arrive in that white Ford Explorer. The exercisers are up and alert. These are people who have gotten reasonable amounts of sleep. They’ll go to work in two hours, after the shower, after the cereal, after Good Morning America. The street is silent. You wonder if it is cold outside. The weather is cold, if that word means anything at the beginning of July. You think about making some coffee. Because, let’s face it, some nights you just don’t get any sleep. Besides, you never were good at sleep anyway.
Now you’re looking out the window like a reverse voyeur. There’s an old man you’ve never seen before walking down the street. He’s looking around suspiciously, although you can’t imagine why. Your busybody neighbor who goes to sleep at 7 pm has been up for at least an hour. His son and business partner arrive in that white Ford Explorer. The exercisers are up and alert. These are people who have gotten reasonable amounts of sleep. They’ll go to work in two hours, after the shower, after the cereal, after Good Morning America. The street is silent. You wonder if it is cold outside. The weather is cold, if that word means anything at the beginning of July. You think about making some coffee. Because, let’s face it, some nights you just don’t get any sleep. Besides, you never were good at sleep anyway.
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