Tuesday, September 25, 2012

So much has happened since you. The hurt has become understanding. It doesn't diminish how deeply it was felt. I know we kind of remain like satellites in each others lives. You know what I mean. I still wonder, maybe you do too but it's different. I hope one day we will know what it means to love someone fully and without underlying selfishness. I think we did at one time but we were both so hurt the first time around we found love. I know you're a good person but don't feel like it all the time. That's where I'm at too. I read your last post. I felt a familiar spark of jealousy but it quickly dissolved because I felt that you deserve this love and happiness. I don't wish you hurt. I know you didn't for me.

Saturday, September 22, 2012

That's my name,
your name
wore it out.
You don't get to
You can't use
that tone
in public
or alone.
I don't need to
hear it
from you.
the titles
and all the
rights down
to your heart.
Taste how
it sounds
one last time.
Time will
digest it.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Change is good...right?

19 year old heart

My palms are sweaty because I can't believe it's you who is sitting beside me. This moment is a dream that I made happen.

A week ago I saw you and claimed you with my eyes, that's the one, I want THAT. That became a name and person I was sitting next to. I was meeting my mom to go grocery shopping, but thank god I was driving separately because it looked much cooler for me to see you the first time in the parking lot sans mom. You were wrangling shopping carts and putting them in their place. Well hello shopping cart cowboy you have some mighty dark and intense eyes from across this parking lot. And you knew I was looking, because you really looked back for an unnecessary length of time. Normally in the past I would have just turned red and averted my gaze out of a delighted bashfulness. But I felt sexy today. My makeup was carefully crafted, as was my tan, I wore little short shorts, and I was driving my car by myself looking so independent (to meet my mom to buy groceries...). I smirked a sexy smirk, a smirk that is telling of a moment of attraction. Hey I see you, I know you see me...let's see each other. So after I parked my car, I noticed the shopping carts were no longer a pressing matter and they remained frightened and lost by parked cars as you quickly ditched them to follow me inside.

But I had to meet up with my mom, oh yeah. My mom is the one who created me after all though, so we do share similar tastes. "Look at that guy, mom. The one with the dark hair and goatee."

"Ooohhhffff.!" Her face contorts and she wedges up her eyebrows as if to say "hot damn!"  "Oh he.is.gorgeous!" she said to me in her animated sing song way. My mom becomes a 19 year old in this moment too as we see you around the store and giggle. So of course when we were done shopping we look to see which line you're bagging groceries in. "There he is!" we indicate to each other with our eyes and smiles. So we're about to move towards you, when the cashier next to us, yells "Next in line over here please!"

Wait, fuck! It's not like my mom and I can say "Oh no, were fine, we're just waiting for this sexy young man over here to bag our groceries." So we both kind of sigh, and move to this other, much less attractive line.  But then! Just as you ditched the shopping carts in the parking lot....you ditch your line! Probably not the best work ethic, but you're coming over to me! You want to put my lettuce and milk in a bag! You look really good doing it too. Commence silly smiling again from me and my mom. So now were standing there and you're bagging and looking up from those pretty, thick, lashes and huge hazel eyes. I bite my lip. I bite it because I'm wrestling it from curling up into a stupid grin. For once, I'm glad my mom starts to talk a lot. "Do you like working here?" and then I hear your voice and I decide I like it. I would like this voice to say things to me. You're talking to my mom and looking at me. My mom then strategically leaves because she "forgot something." But oh, the cashier scans a bottle of wine, and um, I look pretty 19 I guess. Shit. I have to call out to my mom to come back. Well now you know I'm not over 21. Feeling less cool, but still kinda hot because you keep looking at me.

So my mom asks about getting me a job there and you (lie and) say it's fun because later on you tell me you just said that so I'd work there. She chit chats you up and down and I look at you up and down. As the last items are being bagged, there is a longing look exchanged but no words because I think either one of us are wondering if these small collected moments within the last 30 minutes are worth pinning down into another possible moment. We both just kind of hold our breath. As I walk away, I look over my shoulder, just one more time at you, and your long eyelashes catch this. You mention later that this was a telling moment for you, had I not done this, you would have remained uncertain. Then I walk away. A little skip in my step and heart.

I felt something here. I felt a produce aisle connection. I think in most of these situations people are supposed to kind of store it in the small private moments vault of their mind, but I was tired of being so patient with people. I had been shy for so long and the last boy I was with pulled on my patience so much that I forgot that love could be fun. So I went a little out of my way. I posted a missed connections for you on craigslist. Hah! It was silly, but I thought why not? You probably won't even see it. And then...so what then? I was just putting it out there. Take from it what you will craigslist universe.

I received an email response back not from you oddly enough, but from a coworker. My Guess Who way of describing you had worked. This 40 something lonely coworker who made it a nighty habit of scrolling through missed connections, I would assume in the hopes that someone would miss him, found my post that described the grocery store meeting of eyes. I was shocked. He said he thought he knew who I was talking about and would tell him the next day. Ummm...okay! Imagine having some moment like this and then your random coworker a couple days later coming up to you and reminding you of the incident because it was published in a small corner of the internet in the hopes that it could be relived again. So then the lonely coworker responded to me again, just to make sure I had the right young man, and it was a tennis match email exchange until I was given my shopping cart cowboy's Myspace information. (remember myspace?)

As if I wasn't stalking you enough, I found your myspace and looked at your pictures and felt undeniable tangles of excitement inside. I clicked to send you a message. "Hi." is all I said.

You replied shortly after. "Hi? That's it? Haha. How's my little stalker? You know I don't usually do this, but if you want to hang out sometime, here's my number."
This is when I got up and let my body be excited and did a victory dance.  Then I texted you, cuz yeah, I got your number. You were impressed and surprised, romanced by my internet gestures. We met later that night. You told me you usually wait to kiss someone, but let's be honest, this encounter could make an exception. We drove to a pretty night view of all the bay and its sparkling lights and you looked at me in such a way that smiled and said "I just can't get over this" and I couldnt either. Here we are. I made it happen, well you played a part too I suppose. We laughed at eachother, happy to be outside of a grocery store and out into a sparkling night, with a sparked blunt and a growing high. We went back to your apartment and you grabbed me and I let myself be grabbed. I folded into your chest. Our lips climbed the walls of passion. It felt poetic and fierce. Sweet too, with a bite. I had been waiting for something like this. It was all a surprise. We felt alive. It was a kiss you don't forget. It was one that felt of gratitude- thank you for finding me, thank you for being here! For lifting me from a sleepy summer. I really felt your arms around me, there was nothing weak about it. There was force and wanting and then a spreading ease. This is just what I want right now. You're just what I need right now. Fresh fire wrapped around each other. I left for home very late that night.

A few days later we would go out again. This song started playing in your car. It was the first time I had heard it.

It felt like a scene from a movie. I watched pictures speed by with golden hills melting behind me. My skin was hot from the sun earlier. I put my sweaty palms down against my tan legs and breathed in, full of 19 year old optimism and excitement.

I was high in all kinds of ways -the illegal kind, the lust kind, the youth kind. You were driving and I didn't have to worry about anything for the duration of this song. I am not controlling the speed of this machine I am sitting in, I have no control of this feeling sweeping over me. I'm smiling a smile that can be felt again when remembering this, oh but never the same, you know. My hair streaked behind me in the wind, leaving behind my hometown for the night, leaving behind my heavy hearted ex boyfriend to wonder, leaving behind insecurities little by little. You are driving fast. I am feeling fast.  Maybe we'll have sex tonight. This hot and sweet summer air has me drunk. You're old enough to buy me a drink if I want and if you want. and you do. This speed and this music and taste of smoke in my mouth has me feeling unbreakable. I feel so fucking cool. You seem so fucking cool. You have an apartment. You drive fast and buy me drinks. You kiss like ive always wanted to kiss. You open up a passion I thought I would not undress again for awhile. You are a reason, but I am the cause of this moment. My heart is free. I'm free to do whatever I want! I will remember this.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012


I love that I can get chills by hearing something. That I feel so many sensations in my brain, so many feelings that I don't even know how to process all of them.

I love how the mind and body influence each other in this way.

[It is your parasympathetic nervous system reacting to extremely high stimulation in parts of your brain. 

In other words, when you see that amazing performance, (or hear something emotional) so many parts of your cortex are activated, overloaded with visual stimulation, emotion, and (if you are a performer as well) some subconscious motor cortex reactions. So many things happening at once causes a chain reaction of firing neurons throughout your brain, which can spill into your parasympathetic nervous system, which basically controls your reflexes. (getting goosebumps is a reflex) ]

Saturday, September 8, 2012

fire sign

kinda sucks. just started writing it this morning. it has potential...just like me?

When I was young,
I didnt know it was there.
I always thought
It wasnt.
That's it.
I'm not like that.
I thought passion was a dream.
I was so shy,
Achingly so.
I felt quiet
and underwater.
I read in books and saw in movies
About those looks that people give each other,
Looks that mean more than words,
Looks that say "I want what you have,
Please give it to me."
I felt I would never know this.
I felt carefully contained.
Those who knew me
Knew this wasnt right.
As my ideas started to grow,
It began to too.
It started humble
as sparks of self esteem do.
It started to smoke and be
Hot with confidence.
People want to know me.
People want to care.
People want more of me
That I didnt know was there.
Because this is so new and fresh,
Because this is such a shaking to the shy,
I feel drunk with curiosity.
I want to touch every hot surface.
I want to break hearts and limits,
Have what I never thought I could
Just to have it.
I want to be a pirate of feelings,
To take it all, lust and loyalty,
Drink it down and sigh.
I want to make you laugh so hard it hurts
But I'll keep my distance
In case you cause me pain.
I was so afraid of it before,
But it was always inside,
Just not tendered by me.
I put it in a box,
So I wouldnt fuck it up,
But you can't hide for too long.
I just wanted to feel pretty,
And now I feel chaos.
Now I feel a different fear.
I dont know how to direct it,
This fire inside,
Catching to the trees of my mind.
The innocence of my past
Has turned to black.
I want some of it back.
I've wanted too much,
I can't go back.
I feel out of control,
Out of reach.
All I feel is flames.
Nobody can really touch me.
Nobody can really save me,
Or maybe I'm too shy to ask.

Thursday, September 6, 2012

You're not going to have time;
you're going to be busy being a good person
doing responsible things,
making money & paying bills on time,
reading what you're supposed to.
You're going to be approachable & dependable,
you will complete your tasks,
start projects without being asked.
You will button up your shirts,
you will stand tall as you are,
shave your face & say polite remarks.
You will stay smart
pulling out polished words.
You're not going to have time for my nonsense.
I'm going to be busy being a confused person
doing reckless things,
spending money & being late,
not finishing chapters.
I'm going to be lovingly cold & distant,
I will not finish what I've started,
I will leave without being asked,
I will undress
& I will stand smaller than my potential.
I will shave my legs & cuss,
I will stay confused
speaking words that bump into each other,
but I could love you
if you have the time.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

marilyn monroe

Marilyn, on the other hand, was more vulnerable. This made her a great actress onscreen, in the boardroom and in the bedroom, but she was also more affected by the rough-and-tumble nature of the real world, says Keogh. A “Marilyn” woman falls in love like a teenager would — instantly and wholeheartedly. But afterwards, she might get bored and lose interest just as quickly. Unlike a “Jackie,” the “Marilyn” type is capable of enduring the company of an old beau — even if it’s someone who may have betrayed her. “Having had her heart broken, she understands forgiveness and the vagaries of the human condition,” says Keogh. “However, with her emotional fragility, sometimes a ‘Marilyn’ gal gets overwhelmed by the harshness of the world and can’t get out of bed. Sometimes she drinks a little more than she should, and sometimes she cries. However, because of her open-hearted nature, the world — and, of course, men — love her immensely.

First, a “Marilyn” will generally require a lot of ego stroking due to her emotionally tender nature; and second, nearly every man in the entire world will go after her because she’s such a sexpot.

… she’s got beauty, baggage and all, says Keogh. Interestingly, the type of man who falls for a “Marilyn” is usually happy to do so —