the pen and the sword... or, picking up where I never left off

hello.

there are a number of reasons I haven't written much lately, most(ly) of which is the fact I've been doing some music again, and it is good for my bones. and lovely. and my lovely bones.
the other reasons will be dealt with briefly now, and I do mean briefly.

a) if you want to know me, to see my point of view, to get me and my perspective, as it were, I have never meant to make it difficult. I have written on here for many months. I plan to continue for many more. that is the one thing that has not changed. and none of it is hidden. the archive tabs are just below and to the left, feel free to use.

b) I have not ever, nor will I ever, belittle, berate or bewitch anyone but myself. ok, and maybe the sitting U.S. president. if this is what you think I am doing, refer back to point A.

c) and this point may be key, which is why I saved it for last. I am twenty three years old. Yes, cyberspace, you heard me. And with this potentially damning piece of evidence, I may lose my identity, my dental fillings, and my existence, just like what happened in the necklace game I used to play with Jericho. (to further illustrate point A, I will at this time draw attention to the fact that the entire last sentence I just wrote was incredibly sarcastic. by telling you this, I am lampooning my own humor. oh well.) Yes, I am twenty three. Which means I'm a person, and an adult, and I do possess a cell phone, and live in a house with a phone, and have email that is perfectly good and frequently receives all sorts of messages. So, please approach me if you have an issue with me. Or my writing, which is my vehicle of self expression, and after re-reading quite a few posts recently, demonstrates a fine writer at the ripe old age of twenty three trying to figure herself out, and nothing more.

sorry to be so anticlimactic.

to end on a happy note, I like oatmeal cream pies. yum.

hiatus

until further notice I will not be posting on this blog.

just as I am

well, being around real friends has shown me one thing....
I really don't know how to be a friend anymore.

suck city, I am your mayor. welcome. stale doritos can be found in the corner on the card table. feel free to use the tv- be careful with the rabbit ears; they're duct taped to the back of the set. and nobody else will be coming. sorry.

can I simply say that I'm burnt out? that I feel wasted, used? unneccessary? how many consonants are in unneccessary, anyway? am I even spelling alright? even if my social life is a shambles, I'll cling to my spelling. or throw myself into book slinging. is it ok to feel empty inside while you sort stacks of trade cloths on the civil war? I'm sure it is. I don't even know what I want. I want nothing and everything, nobody and somebody, companionship and an empty bed.

maybe I'll punch myself.

friviolity

Go to google, type "(your FIRST name) was arrested for" and see what you got sent to the slammer for. Remember to use the quotation marks! Stick your result below...

1. Noah- I was arrested for murder during my wedding
2. ERICA- Erica was arrested for maintaining a crack house
3. Carrie- I got arrested for making sexual advances towards a cop.
4. Meagan was arrested for lewd behavior. There are no other details available at this time.
5. Jacob was arrested for riding his horse on gravel sidewalk and splashing folks with mud.
6. Walter was arrested for violating Penal Code section 642, otherwise known as grave robbing.
7. Elizabeth was arrested for witchcraft.

(I tried Liza and got 0 returns. Apparently they don't know about my sinister past...)

changes come

Today my family traveled north, to Anderson, where my earliest memories come from. One Megan was marrying one Jonathon, in the Free Methodist church I attended from ages four to six years. Megan's mother, Connie, is my mother's best friend. There were obligatory "trophy moments" at the reception, as my brother and I call them, where my mother turns half way to us, and gestures, and halfway is still looking at some older person with an open jawed smile.

"These are my children."

During the wedding, as we sat sweating in those old holiness pews, I looked up at the ceiling and remembered something. I leaned over to my mother, and told her in college I wrote a poem about those beams, those lights hanging on their chains in the heavy air. She had the same response she always does when I talk about my writing, which is only significant in it's lack of significance. Not even feigning a response, she turned her head and said something to my dad, and that was that.

I sat for a few moments and just smiled at the lights, for them and for me. Then I put my arm around my brother, and we joked about the modern American woman's look: Short hair that looks like she takes her hands to the back of her neck, liberally coats them with gel, and shoves violently upward. Complete this with plastered down bangs, mercilessly tweezed eyebrows, and a perpetual look of surprise on the birdlike features, and you have a whizbang combination of trendy beauty. I sat in my linen dress and flip flops, with my great shaggy mop of hair draped over my shoulders, shoved my glasses up and sweated.

**

Someone at the reception asked my brother what he was doing. He told them he'd just graduated with a degree in Law and Society from Purdue University, and is seeking employment as a Police Officer. Sufficiently impressed, the inquisitor turned to me, dwarfed and hippie looking, standing next to him. And what are you doing?

"Oh, a little of this, and a little of that," I replied, offhandedly. I am at ease. The inquisitor seems expectant of forthcoming additions to my short response. I wait a moment, then smile broadly with closed lips. After a moment, she turns her head, resplendant with it's surprised visage, and displays shoved-up hair for us both to see. She quickly says something to someone nearby, relieving herself of the awkward moment that has descended on us all. Dan and I look at each other out of the corner of our eyes and smile.

**

Over the meal, my mom was talking to the young mother of a little girl who also shared our table. She asked if the little girl was prissy or a tomboy, and the mother replied that the toddler was indeed the former.

"Seems like you're born one way or the other," my mother said. "Not much you can do about it."

nighttime ghost

here I am at 4 am again, on my father's computer.

My laptop officially died 2 days ago. Oh well, it's not like there was anything important on there. just works in progress. scribbles, and thoughts, and incompletes.

just like me.

I'm on the verge. I'm on a roll. My hands look old in the pale screenlight, the only illumination for miles and miles and miles.

I close my eyes.

I open them.



I'm still here.

I feel like a monkey

what a weird schedule my body is on. work at different times of day, leisure in the middle of the night. not that I mind... but things become somewhat complicated when people want to hang out normally. or should I say, at normal times of day. I don't know if I'm capable of hanging out normally.

so, I'm fighting muffin tops right now, which for those of you who are unsure of what I am talking about, picture a girl with some extra love on her. you know the kind I am talking about. and somewhat tight pants, so said love spills out in all directions- note- especially the sides and back. those areas are key. so the entire business begins to resemble a muffin, with the pants being the paper cup part, and the extra love being, well, the muffin top.
I think I got so excited about living in a house with food that I forgot that I don't have to eat all of it, all the time.

a year on Ramen, table scraps, and eggs will do this to you, my friends. even if the scraps are organic.

so the rule is, no food after work except for fruit. problematic, yes, because it's late at night and I'm so hongry and have only eaten two meals prior during the day, a sort of brunch before work, and a linner at 6 or so. so I come in and devour peaches, strawberries, bananas, whatever.

only tonight, there were no strawbs, and the peaches were hard. so I ate three bananas. it is at this point that I begin to feel as if I should swing from a tree. perhaps I'll just go sleep in my bed instead. a very potassium laden good night to you all.

lay lady lay

Ah... days off.

I've been writing things down with my hands lately, trying not to be so blogophiliac. There's something about a pen in your hand that just feels right; something permanent about ink and paper that keyboards and microchips can't replace. I'm not writing for anyone's posterity but my own.

the bro has been home much- things are moving forward with his employment, but there is lots of free time at this stage of the game. I however have been home little, some days working 3 different jobs. Tired little nubbins, I can tell you that. But it pays the bills.

Speaking of which, news my little newsies, is that I got a promotion at work, yippee hoo rah. And that means a dollar more an hour. And I'm signed up for benefits, including life insurance, so you can go ahead and kill me whenever you want. Just wait till I get new glasses. I want to stick it to the man a little, first.

I got my transcripts from CIMT yesterday. I never realized they kept track of GPA and such- so it looks like I had a 3.7 cumulative. I do really well with gettin about 3.6-3.7.... no more, no less. I fake just enough to make it look like I try, I suppose, but not enough to bring home the gold. But anyway, also included in the packet from school was my actual certificates, which are nice and sheepskinny, which I will probably frame (why the hell not? I earned them) along with my college degree that my parents still have. It only seemed appropriate for me to leave it with them; they paid for it, and it's not like I'm using it right now.

And still no word from Fuller. ha. grad school. what a maroon.

I will be the answer

1-so, what do you think about gay marriage?

2-do you want an answer you'll agree with, or do you want the truth about how I feel?

1-the truth, of course.

(much blah blah blah, louder blah blah blah ensues)

1-you're wrong. they're all going to hell.

2-I'm done. I can't even.... I should have just said what you wanted to hear. *walking away*

1-where are you going? we were having such a nice conversation.