Writer

My pen hit the paper and it glides across as if it were Michelle Kwan on the ice. I squeeze the pen harder and am so excited to get the words down that I think I'm skipping entire sentences. I don't remember the last time I made sense, but the excitement is building too much in me that I don't have time to reread. It doesn't matter though, because to me this ink splattered page makes sense. These are my emotion coming from places deep within. I like how it feels after I take it all out on a small, red, leather bound book. It's as if I just vented to friend for an hour, a very small friend, who can't talk back. My hand cramps up, my fingers ache like they were punching something. I travel to new worlds, and I like, with everything that's lived in my brain since I was five. There's everything here from romance and rebellion, to countries whose names I've only read on maps in the back of History class. This is my world, my place to vent, this is where I go when I just want to escape. My wrist aches as I let go of the pen, and my fingers feel as if they were growing callouses like I was climbing up a mountain or something. I hear two large cracks from my hands as I push them together, and I smile. I feel refreshed, content, and renewed as I look down. I don't read, just close the little book and put my own little universe back in it's home, hidden away from the rest of the world, the real world.

Acoustic Hot Days

So maybe I’ve got a lot to learn
Or maybe I’m just hanging on my words
Or maybe it’s not a big concern
But if I raised my hand
Would I understand why I’m better with you?

So maybe there’s not a lot to say
Or maybe I’m wrong doing things my way
Or maybe things will be okay
If I get it together
And do something clever
But make it better with you


So tell me where did I go wrong before you
Before you came along
Well, it seems like I was lost
You showed me how to do things right
Now I’m so glad that now you’re mine

So let me say it all again…

So maybe there’s not a lot to do
Or maybe I’m just making myself confused
Or maybe I’ve got nothing to lose
But if I get out of line,
Just tell me you’re mine,
And how I’m better with you


So use me, don’t let me screw it up
I believe you and I need your touch
Just a little spice of you
Could never be too much
I believe you and I need you now
To make it better some how
You make it better some how

discontent.

I love how I can be cranky about virtually anything, really. That's such a great talent to have...not.

I feel like I'm justified in this though.
It amazes how much people take others for granted. One day I'm practically dying, and you know...NEWSFLASH. That shock and fear does not wear off. I know this is selfish, but I thought after that whole almost dying thing people would maybe respect you more, not take you for granted...or hey even remember you're still there.
Instead I get like a few minutes of "Ah I'm so happy you're still alive" and then just over the fact that I was almost dead! Why do people have to be so "oh yeah...but I just don't want to spend time with you anyway"

I know this is all extremely selfish, and I really need to work on that, but I'm frustrated and I can't help it. Maybe I just wish I got over everything as fast as others can.

Skull Cap Boys

Taken from my journal today:

Well, I'm at this hippie festival at Bergen Community College- Teen Arts. Of course, right now I'm being exclusive because I think I'm cool like that. Enjoying the first day of June, beautiful day, being anti-social under a tree to keep cool in the grass. A tree which attracts these annoying little light green bugs whom, when you squish them, spurt out yellow goo. Because you really needed to know that.
A few hours ago I was not alone. I was with a group of random friends who decided they wanted to check out the Afro Peruvian Percussion seminar (which was awesome) because it sounded cool. So off we went to the cafeteria where there was a group of about 20 already starting. The guy running it all was a nice humble man who can play a bad ass congo. I scanned the room and there he was. Black skull cap, long hair spilling out from underneath, and a somewhat beard all on his jawline. I was in love. Of course it was obvious that I was staring at him, but we locked eyes about 5 times for more than just a second. Is he interested? Do I look okay today? My breath smells. This same exact process happens every time I see a cute guy, or hope to see a cute guy. It's really pathetic actually.

I separated myself from the group, which I always tend to do and I'm not positive whether that has to do with me just wanting to be alone, or wanting attention. Anyway, once I noticed that Skull Cap Boy left, I left a little bit after that. I found myself under this tree with the gooey bugs. In the 90 degree humid weather, it feels about 20 degrees cooler under this tree. I wrapped myself in Tara Leigh Cobble's book, "Here's to Hindsight". Throughout the pages she discusses her personal struggle to fit in with everyone and her desire to be "cool". Naturally, I was relating to this. This was me in a nutshell, exclusive and all. I was dying someone to notice me at that moment.
I could feel a presence by me and I almost hoped it was Jesus just to say "Hey you don't need to be noticed!". So I looked up and, shocker, it wasn't JC. It was Skull Cap Boy! I'm pretty sure I turned 5 shades of red and my smile was bigger than a little kid's on Christmas. "Hey I saw you at the drum thing right?"
"Yeah!" The irony of someone, especially him, noticing me at this moment was just too much to handle.
"Do I know you from somewhere? You look so familiar!" Ah yes I'm that girl in your dreams. Marry me?
"Oh...yeah...I don't think so," It came out with more nervous laughter than I ever would intend. He took his skull cap off, as if I could recognize him better. His hair was dark brown and extremely curly.
"Ryan from Park Ridge?" He asked running a hand through his hair. His friend to the left of him, a cute hippie girl, stood back with a smile.
"I have one of the familiar faces," I said with a shrug and a smile. He was cute with his facial hair and gorgeous eyes, and his skateboard tucked under his arm.
"Maybe that's it, or I saw you at a show once," Marry me...He gave a little wave and smiled, walked back to the cement, and skated away.

So here I sit, under my shady trade, with the yellow goo bugs, and a big goofy smile on my face. In a way JC did tell me "Hey you don't need to be noticed, by any of these stupid cool kids," Ryan from Park Ridge was already all over that.

depressing

so i was in a good mood all day. bad news came. then i read my stupid friends bulletin and i'm bawling

"so, i was taking a shower early this morning and i had been thinking of the last time i saw joey....it made me think of how many other women have been in my position and how most people can not relate....
here it is...my words, my heart, my greatest loss. it may be jumbled but this is rawness.


it was the night i found out he had re-enlisted to the army after being in already for 3 years. he was almost done. i looked at him and asked him if he knew how hard it was for the "wives" of military men to watch them walk out the door. he replied with "baby, i know but i'll be back."
its not that simple.
we, as the women, know that there is a greater chance that when he leaves for work, he wont come back. he isnt just gone a few hours a day. its months at a time where we lie in bed praying for just another morning and another night for his life to keep on going. each person endures risk of fatality just walking out the door and anyone can die at any given moment, but when its like this....
....its just not the same.
we cherish the 10 minute phone calls we get maybe once a week from over seas. we weep every night as we clutch his latest letter to our heart. his picture beside the bed, we look to him every night and say sweet dreams, because somehow we know, wherever he is stationed....he would do the exact same thing.
tomorrow is never a guarantee.

anyway, as i hugged him and kissed him before he turned to leave, i knew in my heart that i would never see him again. a little less than a year from this night we were to be married. i held him and said "im proud of you for fighting for me and the rest of this country."
and then a grown man cried.
he always said he felt this is what he needed to do.
i never quite understood.
but he wasnt fighting just to fight. he was fighting for my future and our kid's future.

so many wives get to curl up with their husbands every night. they fight over stupid things, but in the end....they have him. right there. in front of their faces.
i have a picture.
so many people take for granted what they have. so many people complain about their jobs and how tired they are. i tell them to try and walk a mile in a military man's shoes. these men leave behind their whole lives to fight for you and me. they barely sleep. they havent had a home cooked meal in forever. and yet, something keeps them going.

i knew one day that phone call might come.
but when it came, i wasnt prepared.
joey was gone.
every night i look up at the sky and wonder where he is that moment, if he's watching me. i mean, i know he is. but i just hope he knows, i wasn't really mad at him for re-enlisting. yeah, it changed my life upsdie down and he isnt here anymore....
....but it helped me realize that life and the people we love should not be taken for granted.
ever.

my whole heart broke.
its been a long time picking up the pieces.

july is almost here.
i wont be married....

but this is the life of being a military "wife"


i will marry one day and have children, and i will let them know about a hero that once lived.

this is what these men are,
heroes.
nothing more.
nothing less.




~rest in peace~"


i hate crying

the sad boy.

Doctor's offices always suck. They especially suck when they keep on telling you you're dying, pretty sweet. I saw a little kid the other day with cancer in a doctor's office, and the keep telling him he's dying. Of course, they don't really tell him that. They say things like "You're really sick buddy." or "You just keep staying strong". But, I think, he knows. I think this, because he's always scared. He sees the way his mom always cries after going to the doctor. The way people keep treating him differently. He can tell somethings wrong, and just by seeing his scared little face, I can tell he knows its him.
So hearing going to the doctor for him must really suck.
Blue probably used to be one of his favorite colors, ever little boy is forced into liking blue since their born, but the doctor's office is blue, so I bet he doesn't like it that much anymore. In the waiting room they have really nice chairs, but he looks really uncomfortable in them. The trucks are all lined up for him to play with and crash crash crash into each other, but his mom looks unhappy and he knows the noise might make her not smile. So he sits there, looking all around at all the big people, and he's scared. All the big people are looking at him too, but they know what's wrong, they feel bad for him, they want to cry for him.
And all he wants to do is for everyone to smile, and for him not to be scared anymore.
He can't do that though, because the nurse is about to say his name, and give that fake happy "you'll be just fine" smile, and he gets that everytime, and now he knows that he obviously won't be "just fine".

more smiles

my day started with a "high five!" as i had just avoided a cop pulling me over on a road that is 25 that i usually do 40. i don't know why i got so excited, but i just was. it's amazing how one little thing can get someone excited. it's like when i'm at work, going through the monotony of my day and there comes this old lady. she's quiet and polite, but when she gets the exact change or receives a coupon, this smile illuminates her face, and i can't help but smile to see how such a little thing, 50 cents in change can bring a smile to someone, who can no longer do the crazy things that some teenagers insist is the only way they can be happy.
then of course there's the little two year old who gets so happy by pushing the green button to allow their parents credit cards to process through the EFT machine. or the baby who gets to hold a little carton of gold fish, and that's what keeps them happy.
and then I look around myself, and it's so hard to find the happiness in the little things, or how I take for granted my life, and get upset over everything. maybe i should reverse my own standard, my own stupidity. get excited of the regular ordinary things/everything and get upset over practically nothing.
maybe if everyone did that there'd be more smiles in this world, and less bitter hatred towards teachers or things we can't control.


the example of a pleasant existence, a humble existence with nothing to prove, with no agenda but to exist with a smile throughout the week.-Zach Gehring