rough draft...

so...
i've taken some time off from writing. however, i realized that i missed it. so pen to paper again. off the wall daydreams, things that will never happen along with the tiniest tidbits of my daily life. for example, i'm off on mondays and love to read... and that's about it.


so here you have it...



she enjoyed having mondays off. it gave her a chance to recover from the weekend. she liked the clothes that she slept in. oddly cold weather attire for the middle of the summer: long sleeve tshirt and khaki sleep pants. but it was raining today. the earth welcomed the much needed rain and her skin loathed the tissue cotton covering it.

the laundry was done. dishes washed. the fresh smell of Heaven's tears filled her modest house thru open windows. the porch begged for her attention; along with the company of a good book. she made her selection from a stack on the desk: the autobiography of President John Adams. she bought it last year for his birthday. he tore thru the pages of history that the two of the loved, however she was just now getting around to it. she grabs a beer from the fridge while making her way to her favorite rocking chair. it was her mother's; a baby shower gift from the proud grandparents. doing her best not to drop the condensation from her longneck bottle, she begins to flip thru the pages. there in between two pages, a handwritten note smiles back at her. she remembers that note. in her own hand, were the words to a song that said what she couldn't. she stuck in it the book before she wrapped it for him to find a on a later day. she smiled. remembering the smile on his face when she presented it to him. the anxious pleading that he didn't already have it. the way she felt when she first heard that song, knowing it was her words to him. she picked up the note, slightly running her fingertips over words written by a girl she thought she had lost. the she noticed it. on the back. there was another set of hand written words. she flips the paper, immediately recognizing the handwriting of him. he had finished the verse of that song. and at the bottom, included the words...

"i love you cause i do"

untitled. chapter: monday

figured i would just title an entire chapter "monday". or maybe i should consider that a title for the book, if it ever makes it to print. or better yet, find someone who actually thinks i have something in these fragmented, un-capitalized sentences.

so happy monday. woo-hoo! i would absolutely support the 4 day work week with it starting on tuesday so that monday could be assigned the "weekend hangover" day. weekends are chaotic! insanely chaotic. seems like they fly by at warp speed and laugh at you.

and on this particular monday. i find myself lost once again. too bad it isn't in some breath-taking island with a cold umberella drink in my hand. i'm lost in life. my emotional compass has been misplaced and my ADD mind has no idea where i put it. (it must be with the clothes that i sat out for my son on thursday that i still haven't been able to locate). and the worst part, if there even is something worse than this, is that i have NO and i mean NO, N-O, NO idea how i got here.

so here's my bullentin to be broadcasted to the listening: if you see me wandering around aimlessly with this confused look on my face and my broken heart on my sleeve, buy us both a drink and let's talk. i tend to find my way back to where i belong while talking to someone.

untitled. chapter: revelation.

"she has a hand full of records that she turns to when she needs to land...."
- guinevere, by the eli young band.

i am one to look for comfort in music. not sure what i would do without it. and i learn a lot about myself thru music. guess that's why i was the "band nerd" for almost 7 years and why i recently inlisted myself into violin lessons. and a lot of it makes me who i am.

and it's a weird thing. sometimes it's the music part that gets me. sometimes it's the lyrics. words are powerful. i can't tell you how many times i've heard a song and think "that's exactly what i'm trying to say!"

and now i'm at a crossroads in my life. sir walter scott had it right. "what a tangeled web we weave when first we practice to deceive". would love to ask him what made him think in that way. however, i have a pretty good idea. i've recently deceived myself. it's a hard thing to admit, but i let it happen. and honestly, i wouldn't change a thing. i've learned from this. and i plan to carry this life lesson with me as long as i can. but in dealing with all of this, i have had the hardest time to just let it go. i'm not a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl. i need a plan. i need instructions. but this past thing, if you will, didn't come with either. and me without a compass, is not a good thing. i got lost. lost my complete emotional sense of direction and found myself somewhere amazing and difficult at the same time.

so in coming back to reality. back to the way that things are supposed to be, that i tried so hard not to allow. i need to land. and i found a song that heals. that tells me in it's own little way that things will be alright. maybe not the way that i would have planned it, but it's not my plans. its those of my Creator. so this is my prayer of comfort. my prayer of peace. with myself and what happened.

all the promises i've broken. all the times i've let you down. you've forgotten them. but still i hold on to the pain that makes me drown. now i'm ready. to let it go. to give it away. take it all. cause i can't take it any longer. all i have i can't make it on my own. take the first. take the last. take the good. and take the rest. here i am. all i have. take it all. all the roads that lay before me. all the struggles i go thru. every second i'm reminded. that it all belongs to you. now i'm ready. to let it go. to give it away. take it all. cause i can't take it any longer. all i have i can't make it on my own. take the first. take the last. take the good. and take the rest. here i am. all i have. take it all. ever since i died to myself. you gave a better life to me. i give you my finest moment. i give you the last breath i breathe.

take it all, by third day.

looking for the answer to the ULTIMATE question.

so here we are again... monday. wish i knew what it was with me and mondays, but my mind thinks weird things on mondays. but no alcohol today.. just my friend, mr. ceiling fan.

so here's the question of the day: how can it be that one minute you are madly in love with a man and the very next second you could shake the last breath out of his stupid, insensitive, inconsiderate body? i at times want to yell "seriously??" hoping to get a different response other than the typical "i don't know what you are talking about" look. you know the one. that one that has a tendency to make your skin crawl and your blood pressure hit the stroke level. it must be what it means to have a viet nam flash back. i don't think that i will ever understand the capacity of that kind of reflection, but i think that i'm coming within the radar. and for the second part... is this something that men are born with or is it something that they learn. or is this the video that the boys got to watch while us girls were watching the horrifing film about getting our periods and that "this is just part of life and it happens to everyone."

by george, i believe i just answered my own question.

band-aids.

riddle me this batman... do you think that sometimes a person comes into your life for the sole purpose of being a band-aid to cover the wounds of your past. to mask the scar of defeat in love. to heal your soul of brokeness. whether it be from life. a love. a friendship gone south. whatever.

and if this is the case: with a physical band-aid or one from the emotional box, why does it hurt like hell when you rip it off?

untitled. ramblings. chapter: wants.

okay.
so i've taken time to think.
which at times should not be done under the influence of these things:
boredom.
anger.
wishful thinking of the sexual nature.
or in my case, the last cold shiner in the fridge.
aahhh! my sweet rescue from this crazy day of thinking what i shouldn't and not caring of the consequences.

but in all honesty, it's the late night thinking sessions that show who i really am. when the only thing that i have to listen to is the ceiling fan above me and my thoughts. (wish i knew what it is with me and ceiling fans today...) but anyways. you'll have to excuse my ADD in this.

this is what i WANT:
happiness.
plain and simple.
good old fashioned.
happiness.
to have a smile on my face that makes people wonder "what is she thinking about?" you know that smile. it's almost equivalent to the hollywood-million dollar-yes, i know i look fabulous and you can't have me-smile. i actually have a photo of myself, with this aforementioned smile. LOVE this photo. haven't smiled like that in a long time. sadly, i can't say what was going thru my mind. i can tell you i was smiling at the waiter who was bringing me this awesome chocolate thing for my birthday. but i can't tell you WHAT i was smiling about. sometimes, those things don't need to be said out loud. as if i'll just keep this under my hat until i feel okay with voicing my feelings. which is something very hard for me to do.
i'm a talker.
i kiss-n-tell.
i like to see the reaction on your face when i tell you that dark secret.
and right now, i have a lot of them. just need to wait for the right timing. and me + time = no bueno! my timing is what got me into this mess. hopefully, it will show me the way out the back door before i make an ass out of myself.

untitled. chapter one. rough draft.

she has a sass about her when she walks.
making sure that her heels almost click, like that of a dancer, with each step.
but just on the left side.
her eyes are focused on his.
squinting in the late afternoon sun.
smiling.
moving towards him as if in slow motion. one heartbeat at a time.

he strecthes out to grab her hands.
with skin, warm and soft, despite it's occupation.
"it's alright that we go...."


**bbeeeepppp! bbeeeeeepppp!"
she awakes breathless.
her heart pounding so hard, she feels it through her body.
"stupid alarm," she mumbles, running her fingers through her hair. she searches for her glasses to check to see what time it is. and after realizing that she can go back to sleep for another two hours, she nudges her husband to get up. rolling over to find that sweet spot back on her side of the bed, she thinks about the dream. "it's alright that we go...." what in the world could that mean? those blue eyes haven't crossed her mind in years.