there is a light that never goes out

The following symptoms can indicate an airborne infectious disease transmitted uncontrollably from one individual to another.

• Sweaty palms
• Loss of appetite
• Heart palpitations
• Dizziness
• Upset or fluttery stomach, as if some sort of flying insect was inside
• Inability to speak in coherent sentences
• Irrational perception of the world around, actually making sense
• Clumsiness
• Frequent and spontaneous day dreams
• Smiling for no reason 
• Insomnia

Should you experience such symptoms, take an emergency vacation for 18 months to Bermuda and your symptoms should disappear. 

Seven Deadly Sins

You're confident and charming in the spotlight,
while you naturally preach in vain condescension 
you can ignore what comes out of His mouth,
yet you undoubtedly claim, "his blood hath been shed!"

A spiral downward, enticed by a filled porcelain plate
an undying urge to gorge in such cravings
what you lack within, you've justified
by loosening that belt, from your last few helpings.

is it so wrong to have instant satisfaction?
Is awaking your carnal instincts worth the chance?
If you've tested the waters and still ask the question,
The thought alone can shoo the purest countenance.

you curse what awakens your still, dark slumber
yet you thrive on that which shines so bright
This life of dull and depleted energy within 
Left you to become a drained and sluggish mass.

Is that a want, a need you keep to yourself?

Does the thought of gaining more, seduce you?

Or are you merely distracted by your destitute hands
clenched on a precious ring you stole?

Anger breeds anger, from one to another transferred

like a burst of lighting that becomes a forest fire

the fury you shed consumes the air surrounding
soon you'll find yourself helplessly alone.

You're a pail with a crack dressing your side

No matter how much you're filled, you drain out

Despite years of service and charity you provided

Your self worth is only found in coveting others. 

ay carumba

One word: muffintop.

the art of being alone.

As a young and fully developed thirteen year old, a young man asked me for my phone number. I had butterflies in my stomach. My brother Thomas called him Smeagol (the deranged and obsessive hobbit). He called my home. We talked about the weather. Music. Family. You know, the ever-essential discussions that engulfed the fragile minds of thirteen. I had someone to connect with, and we connected for hours and hours. We had "our song" (the pop-punk of The Starting Line). We had our romance. We had our first kiss in the sticky back seats of a movie theater while Cheaper by the Dozen played. That Steve Martin sure knew how to set the mood.
Then shortly a year after, during high school, there was another. He seemed so proud to put his arm around me.
He was so excited to call me his girl. We shared "our song", but this was a different song. And by song, I mean, him plunking around on a bass guitar recorded onto a cheap tape player. The deep and spurratic bass notes were entitled, "Grace." It was the most romantic thing a boy had ever done for me. 
Following him came a strand of lovers. Each gave me the same butterflies. The music. The poetry. The ammunition for my brothers to make fun of them. Different shapes and sizes. One after another, I imagined what life could be. I somehow managed to pretend I'd spend the rest of my life with each one. And each relationship ended when someone better came around.
Experienced and fulfilled in the long term, short term, and 'fling' departments, I broke many hearts...never feeling the pain I thoughtlessly inflicted.
I found myself as a 21 year old living in Greeley, Colorado. A town where a meat factory exists and every two days, the streets are filled with the thick stench of the slaughterhouse. The same month I moved in, I decide to be a vegetarian. And it was the first time in eight years that I realized I was alone. But I wasn't lonely.

Zombies!

"When has anybody ever said, 'woah! I had a normal dream last night!' ?"
--Arthur Hatton


I had a dream last night that my home was being attacked by zombies. I was setting up barricades around the driveway, when I realized inside my garage emerged a long, reddish haired woman--zombie, of course. I looked for the nearest baseball bat and swung to save my life. After experiencing such terror, she stopped...looked at me and said, "Wait, why are you trying to kill me?"


I responded with, "Because you're trying to eat my brains!" 


Her reply was, "Why do zombies have such a ridiculous stereotype? Look, I'm not trying to kill you, I'm not trying to eat your brains, and you can trust me." 


We sat and discussed this concept for quite some time. I reached out my hand to shake hers in faith, and she took mine firmly. And we went on with our lives.


The end.

December 23, 2010

I had a date. This is the third, "formal" date I've had in 5 months. So, the man is making me dinner--Taiwanese, to be exact.

I told him I would surprise him with an American dessert. I drove to Walmart to pick something up (SO classy). I got the ingredients I needed and went out to my car. It wouldn't start. There was no budge, no light, nothing. Come on, it had to stop working NOW?! So there I was, standing in the freezing parking lot of Walmart with a cute outfit and my hair all curled, trying to pathetically lift the hood to see if it's possibly just a bad battery connection...and I can't even get the hood up! I felt like an idiot. So I called my parents to come pick me up.

They drove me to my date's apartment. They waved goodbye, both looking out of the car window with a 'thumbs up' as my date opened his front door, and they drove off giggling. 


*Apparently in Taiwan, if you whistle inside, it is calling evil spirits into the house. I had a really good song stuck in my head and whistled up a storm. Whoops. Thankfully he had a sense of humor...