ocean/moon

If love is water, then I am an ocean.
I am motion. I gravitate to your battered
face. You hang, silvery iridescent,
circling. I move under your gaze, wake
to see you wink and lap against beaches
in anticipation. You draw me close, you pull
me, inch by pained inch. I stay up with you.

You sleep without me through the day
and I wait. The sun is too bright
for you, too garish. I want to find you, pull
you from your resting place and lay you to sleep
in my depths. More I want you to see me, to know,
to be free from the tossing and turning
of my surface. I want to send you searching.

Walk my floor, untrampled by the unruly visitors
who tread my shores. Your feet would fall carefully,
I know. I'd call lanternfish, Jack-o-lantern gaping
mouthed swimmers to light your way in the darkness,
to turn murky waters clear with a swish
of their tail. I'd assign you a mermaid, a migrant
from some warmer sea to detangle your feet
from the weeds, fallen moon-lover, to hold your hand
as you sought beauty and truth in the lit black.

I could never keep you. I know this but I would hold
you for one day, just one. When night fell I would lift
you and carry you until all sunlight was gone.
You would bob, a buoy, not yet illuminated.
As you rose, found your place in the sky
my waters would leave your face. All traces would dry.
The only thing left would be a touch of salt, a bitter
bite left on your skin. You would look down
and I would look up at your face, just turned
away, but with one eye rested on me.

well,

i'm kind of obsessed with texts from last night. in a really sick way i love reading about how much worse someone's life is than mine. i have never ever ever thrown up in a walmart sack and had to carry it around all night. i mean, there's something to be said for that.

on a completely unrelated note, am i the only one who wishes that things made for babies could be made bigger for adults? take this, for example.

this is called the nap nanny. you put the baby in there, a nice comfortable, reclined position, belt them in, and they fall asleep like that. for hours. i mean, what we really need is for that to be made about three times longer and twice as wide and i would totally burn my bed and sleep in that. it's soft, plush, and i imagine it would be the best thing ever. it's recommended for babies with colic, reflux, poor sleeping habits...i have sleep apnea...i'm convinced this would cure me.

what's totally wrong here? the slogan on napnanny.com is "everyone sleeps". well dammit if everybody sleeps why don't you make one of those for everybody? how is this fair? short answer: it's not.

wannabe indie kid confession of the day: i'm obsessed with ke$ha. she says the dollar sign is supposed to be ironic. i'm going to run with that.

MEL.

it's so strange

to be living in two different time zones.

i'm living in michigan from sunday night until friday afternoon. i live in indiana from friday night until sunday afternoon. that has me in slow time (chicago time) on weekends and fast time the rest of the week. everything work related is kzoo time and everything and everybody else in my life is on slow time. which is very strange.

i have the clock on my computer set to slow time...right now it is...10:22. everything else is fast time. i woke up this morning at 7...ish...stumbled out of bed and to my computer because, of course, what's the first thing you do in the morning? check facebook, what else? maybe even tweet. or maybe not. too early. too busy being pissed because my computer (the lying bastard) tried to tell me i'd woken an hour early. and that's just unheard of and uncalled for. especially since i'd only gotten...maybe 3 or 4 hours of sleep total, mostly due to falling asleep listening to an audiobook and waking up panicked when the narrator raised her voice...then waking repeatedly to terrible nightmares, about a million of them. i remember one someone tried to wrap me in a ball of yarn. they had a whole shit ton of yarn. and i mean a shit. ton. in another one i was in this giant field of goats and they were all staring at me, chewing their cud like there was no tomorrow. they were chewing so loudly, and while that bothers me in real life, in dream life, you would think they were ripping my eyes out it was so unbearable. and have you ever seen goat eyes? those pupils are so ugly i don't think they should exist. but anyway it scared me.

so when i finally figured out that my computer was on slow time i was about to set another alarm for an hour later...when i was supposed to start work. i'm a little glad i caught that.

has anybody read/listened to/heard of the book by audrey niffenegger, her fearful symmetry? it's very good. about twins and ghosts. actually, has anybody read her other book? the time traveler's wife. actually i think it would be my favorite book, as of right this second. it's very good. i'm listening to symmetry as an audiobook...i am officially obsessed with audiobooks...and i love the narrator's voice. she sounds like a smoker- not one of those horrid hack hack black lung smokers but one from the 20's, with a nice, bluesy voice, just a little bit hoarse but very low and sultry. i think if you could have romantic feelings for a disembodied voice i would have them for this one. it's very nice. on top of that, she has an english accent. and i have a thing for accents.

i may add her voice to my list of lady crushes. does that count? does it have to be a whole lady to make the list? can i have a crush on, say, lady gaga's lips? katy perry's torso? cause both of those are pretty hot.

maybe i should just make a lady part crush list. except i really don't like the sound of that. let me think about the name. but the list should totally exist.

remember when

i said that laundry was the most amazing thing in my life?

i lied.

i just ate some chips with artichoke spinach dip and i want to marry it. can we legalize that plz?

also, i've realized i'm going to be one of those obnoxious bloggers who stops in and write 3 sentences 5 times a day. hope ur cool with that.

well, laundry can be second most amazing. but omg chips and dip. omg.

sometimes i'll write really interesting, long, funny, make you laugh, make you cry, it's got everything you could ever ask for blog posts. but just not right now. actually...i may import my favorite, most interesting ever blog post from facebook (so ok, technically a note) back when i didn't know what blogging was and thought that facebook was fun to write on except O WAIT i have my mom on facebook and she still doesn't know i know how to spell damn. so that was over with quickly.

is it weird

to sniff dryer sheets?

does it make me weird to bury my face in a warm basket of laundry and inhale in one long sniffff through my half-congested nostrils? to enjoy the smell of detergent almost as much as i enjoy, say, a new pair of shoes, or finding a dollar, or realizing my favorite flavor of gum is on sale?

i think what i'm trying to say is i really love the smell of laundry.

i just thought i should let you all know.

lists

i love:
-long stripey socks.
-dark chocolate mint ice cream.
-having my computer in town. !!!
-photoshop.
-lensbabies.
-space heaters.
-cherry coke zero.
-lemon-pomegranate lip gloss.
-funny paramedics.
-that one cop who whistled the whole way through the hospital.
-looking supah-fine.
-tweezers.
-tweezing things that i could pick up just as easily with my hands.
-pomegranates.
-tegan and sara's new album, or what i've heard of it.
-foreign accents. accents in general, really.
-adding pointless steps to things.
-skipping steps that i don't deem necessary.
-finally knowing how to spell necessary.
-blueberry-cranberry juice.
-lily allen.
-filling up punch cards at my favorite stores.
-orbit sweet mint gum.
-not stuttering when i say regularly.
-alliteration.
-when i can speak coherently.
-my hoosier accent even when i pretend not to.
-quilts.
-flannel shirts.
-the smell of my boyfrann's shampoo.
-BABIES.

i hate:
-sweating.
-staples.
-sour fruits.
-pomegranate juice in my eye.
-thinking i have less time in the shower than i do.
-forgetting to turn my alarm off on weekends.
-looking sooo fine with nowhere to go.
-cashiers asking if i want gift receipts because i really don't know the purpose.
-trying to buy presents.
-looking in my package of gum and only finding wrappers.
-having to give away my last piece of gum.
-jerk cops who give me tickets.
-being hungry.
-wanting to eat when i'm not hungry.
-the dregs of anything. tea, coffee, smushy ice cream.
-forgetting to take the size stickers off of new shirts. world, i am L.
-scrubbing gore out of my eyebrow.
-forgetting that people get grossed out easier than i do.
-going to bed and being cold, waking up and being hot, and vice versa.
-spell check messing with my head. versa is so a word.
-the way codeine makes my head feel like cotton balls on opium.
-realizing that legit drugs would destroy me if i feel like this on codeine.
-rolling my car.
-thinking that the doc is about to feel me up HOLY KINDERGARTEN BATMAN.
-nickleback.
-people who are really dumb and talk to me like i am.
-being really angry and not knowing why.
-teenage angst...thought i was over that...

thinking

they should totally make a baby scented candle. i mean, the smell of a baby's scalp is one of the most intoxicating smells right before chocolate and right behind coffee, which is second only to the smell of honeysuckle at night. and i'm sorry, babies are basically the cutest things ever.

is there anything more adorable than a baby? baby things, anything, are cute. let's face it, people just love little things. miniature pugs, poodles, little kid shoes, kittens, puppies, baby giant sloths, dolls, dolls for our dolls, really anything that is a smaller version of something bigger wins us over. and people, being kind of self obsessed already, love little tiny versions of ourselves.

i kind of think that whatever makes us love little things is what keeps us from losing it and leaving our babies on the front steps of churches or orphanages. they are just too cute to lose.

"awh, he's sitting up just like a little person!" -gwen

ready to roll

so friday i flip my car. over, and over, and then back again. flip my car, no big deal. whatever man. ripped my scalp open. blood frickin everywhere. i looked like a crime scene. took three (3) staples- think office depot, swingline, hey can you staple these papers together for neatness sake IN MY HEAD, and i didn't even cry.

WHO IS A CHAMPION???

I IS A CHAMPION.

but geez. would you believe the cost of drycleaning??? i have GOT to get all that blood out of my cape. super powers and i can't even keep my clothes from staining.

i am

OBSESSED WITH:
-owls
-gnomes
-all things to do with hippies
-tie die
-this pot of coffee
-the way my stripey warm socks fit
-pandora.com
-zero by yeah yeah yeahs
-not cutting my hair. i won't do it.
-really really wanting to cut my hair

ANNOYED WITH:
-chilly toes
-thinking i can get away with sleeping in a tank top when i really can't
-the inability to rewind pandora
-being poor
-the seam on the inside of my socks
-that cat always looking cross eyed at me
-the feeling of a growling stomach, although the sound makes me smile.

this is the part where i tell you i hate people

it seriously annoys me when people understand "introverted" as "shy". no, i'm not scared of you. i just don't need you.

i have social anxiety, yes. people outside of my bubble freak me out and wear me out. i have a low (ish) tolerance for people i don't know very well, or people too different from me, or people too much like me. that being said, i do love people. i do. i have a very close circle of friends that make me all warm and fuzzy and i am loud and obnoxious around them, not skeered at all. but get me outside of my bubble and i pull my hoodie up over my head, take my arms out of my sleeves, and play game boy inside my comfy fleece cocoon.

because, quite frankly, i don't rely on people.

introverts are people who gain energy primarily from being alone. "me time" refreshes them, while "people time" refreshes extroverts (i find myself wanting to type outroverts which to be honest sounds and looks a lot better. right? RIGHT?).

when i'm talking to people and they ask me how i can stand to be alone all day with will, how i deal with not socializing a whole ton, if i'm upset about not having friends in town, i tell them, it's ok, i deal. i'm pretty introverted.

"awwwhh, so ur shy?"

uh. no. well, yes. but i am shy...and introverted.

blatherings

i get extremely frustrated with the idea of christianity. i mean, don't get me wrong. i believe there is a higher being who made us and cares for us and all sorts of beautiful marvelous things. but. it's the religion of it all that really upsets me.

i am not a perfect person.

i just felt like i needed to start out by saying that.

but people meet me i tell them i am a christian because you are either a christian or you don't believe in God...there's little to concept in people's mind about the non-practicing christian or non-religious believer...i am a child of God attempting to live without pretense which i think is living without religion.

when they discover i am "christian" since no other name lends itself to the life i attempt to lead, the judgment switch flips. i am not the nice, sweet girl who cusses like a sailor that they just met, or the girl with a funny, if at times dirty sense of humor. i am a hypocrite.

"do you talk like that in church?"

"are you just trying to impress people acting like that?"

"i thought you were a christian."

where do people get the idea that christians are these super-human creatures who don't mess up? or the idea that christians are hoity-toity holier-than-thou monsters who go slumming and act like the rest of the world when the church doors close sunday afternoon.

it makes me angry.

yes, i believe in God. yes, i agree with the bulk of christian theology. that being said, i do not agree with the pretense. i do not agree with the overly religious feel you get in...well, every church i've ever been to.

the whole point of christianity, what makes it so amazing, is that it's ok to screw up. if you make a mistake, realize and admit what you did, attempt to change, God knows your heart and he forgives you. it's all right. that's not held over your head. God actually accepts that you're human and is willing to help you work through it and lead the life he designed you to lead, as long as you let him. if you're legitimately trying, he knows it. grace is the name of the game.

and yes, i know there are places in my life where i fall short. but outside of theology, outside of the bible, outside of what i've been told is right or wrong, i'm doing my best. i am living the life i want to lead. i cuss. yes. i date....boys. i'm lazy and i make excuses and i place blame in everyone but myself. but that doesn't mean that i don't try to do my best at whatever i do.

it's taken me all of my life to come to a place where i'm even somewhat ok with who i am. i'm learning to work with this personality i was given instead of trying to change it, to mold myself around the person i really wanted to be. so how anyone can judge me for not fitting perfectly to the image in their heads of christianity...i don't know. i'm not going to. i'm happy. i'm living.

i apologize for this rant of a post...but it was much needed. :)

MEL.

snow day yes?

NO.

because babies don't sleep on the job.

big brainy smarty

hello everyone. i'm sitting at my desk wearing a purple blanket cape and i feel very kingly. the only things i need to complete it are a sceptre and a badass attitude. i'm halfway there.

it's super cold. hence the cape. i'm looking at my hands as i type and they are white...like, white, white, white. it's just not wight. right. i want to move to florida and be crazy super tan or go to california and turn totally valley girl, totally.

not really. i'm more cut out to be gangsta. but again, the whole white issue is raised.

basically what i'm saying is that the paler you are, the more your dork factor goes up. the pastier your skin, the creamier your complexion, the more likely you are to get into d&d or listen to pretentious indie music or fall into the orchestral pit during the dress rehearsal of the summer musical production.

basically what i'm saying is that i am genetically programmed to never be cool, never ever ever and i blame my parents. because...really, isn't that what every 13-24 year old is supposed to do? so i'm just doing my job.

i smell grilled cheese. it's wafting upstairs...through the airvents...or more likely through the open door...must...munch...

so.

i hate the kind of cold that makes you really, really sweaty. you know? the humid cold, that dries out your hands but it's ok because all the sweat dripping down from your forehead will serve to sufficiently hydrate them.

i guess what i'm saying is i'm sweaty.

i'm obsessed with old music. i've loaded my phone chock full and am slowly killing it letting it play full blast instead of my ipod because being sick makes your ears feel all full of water and what's weird is i can hear farther off sounds better than i can one that's being played directly on my eardrum. and it's ok that i'm killing my phone because i have this handy resurrection machine i plug it into every night. works like a charm, except for when it doesn't.

my phone is purple. every time i see something that's purple i fall in love with it again.

my shirt is also purple.

i wish i could dress all in purple every day. i read somewhere that people who favor the color purple have delusions of grandeur. not me, no way. it just makes me think of grape jelly, of violets, of lilacs and really bitchin shoes.

on that note- need more purple shoes.

in the belly of everything

today is slow. everything has the feeling of weight, of more gravity, of an unwillingness to be lifted or carried or moved. they refuse to be moved but at the same time everything feels buzzing, a subtle vibration that is barely noticeable but definitely there. this, friends, is the beginning of a migraine.

it starts with an ache at the nape of my neck, and a feeling of pinpricks that starts out like a foot that's just barely asleep, then grows. it follows down my spine and ends in the back of my legs, just behind my knees. i feel it in my shoulders, i feel it in my arms, my back, behind my eyes, in my ears, in every vein of my forehead. my face feels one size too small, wrinkled and scrunched so i try to smooth it out with my finger tips but it really has little to no effect.

a migraine is everything amplified. your own heartbeat is too much. every click and tap is inside your ear, turned up to eleven. every ounce of relentless light is shining directly into your eye.

sometimes i feel like a whiner. but...well, there is no but. i feel like a whiner, a complainer, making a big deal out of nothing. oh well. right now i don't care. my head hurts.

Some days, I feel myself wither.
I see myself shrunken, diminished,
my sodden frame dry out and complain
with the moan of an old house.
I was once a painted lady, all bronze,
copper, and freckles, my skin a golden
brown. But I invited a winter in, hiding
from my sun. I allowed flesh and muscle
to weaken, the strength in my spine
to curve. My bones are spindled to nothing.

Like a twin carried in my belly, I allow pain
to twine its veins with mine. We breathe
the same air, in the same motion, the heaving
of our chests simultaneous and orchestrated.
We share a body, live so closely
that some days I can’t imagine life without it.

Pain is life in a crowded room, all jutting
elbows and careless boots. I am pressed
against every body and crave cool breezes
but my exit is blocked. It flaunts those daring
red letters high above us and I know
if I were to squeeze through, inch alongside
walls and windows I could find my way out,
but the glass is too cold against my skin.
Motion is too much to bear.

Pain is a tower, whitewashed to cover gray
bricks, with bright lights to warm up empty
cells. Pain is isolation, a compulsion that seizes
and grinds its teeth in your ear. Remember,
you asked to come here.

hi hi hiiiiiii

this is...just an entry....so i can say.....i have an entry......i'm listening to pandora radio and george lopez just informed me, in his very best commercial voice, that the george lopez show is "very funny". i'm not sure i believe him. he didn't sound very sincere.

MEL