Wednesday, January 12, 2011

archive diving...

staying up late. rereading myself. smiling at my past life. at the anger. the silliness. the flirtations with my now husband.

rereading who i was. seeing who i was becoming. watching the old me wither away. the blossom dries and falls. the fruit grows. and ripens. to be picked. to be loved.

i forget sometimes. i forget how sad i was. to be honest. i still am. but i am better equipped to deal with it now. i know the tears will dry. i know the hurt will fade. and i'll be in his arms again.

i remember how young i was. how every slight against me was a decree of war. how every stray look while walking downtown was an assault to my vanity. at yet. i still am young. i still feel my hackles raise as my back hunches into a defensive position. i am ready to leap into a fight. to protect my heart. to protect my life.

was it all so long ago?

am i really much different?

no. and yes.


and no.

i think we're all an ocean. we are calm. we are rough. we are white tipped with angry froth. we are silken smooth in midnight light. we are pulled by a tide. we flow in and we flow out.

we soften the edges of the jagged cliffs of life.

our course is ever the same.

our purpose held beneath the surface.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

tis the season...

for colds. stupid cold damp english weather.

i'm eating a red bell pepper like an apple. they have twice the vitamin c as two oranges. plus i find it oddly indulgent to eat a whole bell pepper without cutting it.

the hubby is making some vicks medicine tea stuff. and he's going to make our lunch... though it's a late lunch. hot dogs. mmmm. just the thing to battle off a cold.

now, he's not just making lunch and taking care of me because he's wonderful. well, he is. but i think it's also because he feels guilty...

guilty for being so damn hawt.

no. guilty for giving me this cold in the first place.

stupid cold damp england.

**after googling bell peppers i found that a green bell pepper has twice the vitamin c by weight than citrus fruits. and a RED bell pepper has three times what a green bell pepper has. golly.**

Monday, January 3, 2011

better than prozac

the crinkle of waxed paper as it gently pulls away from the creamy yellow treasure within.

the crunch as grain after grain of sweetness is whipped into a heavenly foam.

the satisfying crack as a an egg releases the building blocks of patisserie.

the soft whisper of flour against paper.

all these things have a way of combining and easing away the odd sense of emptiness which creeps into my heart sometimes.

melting chocolate. the matte finish. smoothing into dark pools.


it's my prozac.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

post: in where i bitch about many things and nothing


so i've rejoined the evil site-which-shall-not-be-named. i'm blocking applications and trying to only check it once a day. but then i realize i haven't seen all the photos of what people have been doing so i go back. but then i realize that i don't really care so i leave again.


today i've managed to bathe. make the bed. and give myself a pedicure. it's a grey day. and my head is blue. so much going on inside. i will blame it on jet lag and the residual hormones from last weeks lady time.


i've been going over a lot of weird things in my head. i don't want to discuss them. i want to be able to go inside my brain. wielding a broom. and sweep all the crazy out. but i don't think i can do that. unless i shrink dennis quaid and send him in to do the job. but then martin short would screw it up somehow.

meh again.

maybe it's just a weird case of homesickness. sick for so many homes. california. massachusetts. even here. sometimes i just wish i could figure it all out. go back in time. fix it somehow. perhaps i should just let it go. don't dwell. wait for everything to work itself out or not.

i don't know.

i wish i did.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

smells like...

teen spirit?

or a crapload of vodka (and a couple of bottles of wine) split between your friendly neighborhood gay...

damn. i have to be up for work in 6 hours.

this is not going to be pretty.