Do you know what it is that you do to me? Cause I sure as hell don’t. I can’t quite figure out whether it’s the story in your eyes that communicate through your gaze, the captivating sparkle in the windows to your soul. It’s as if you polished them perfectly for me to peer into. And the pieces I have discovered are not everyday findings but treasures that others have searched and searched for and had come to find failures instead. I don’t know whether to boast it to the world or keep it to my humble self and embrace it behind the closed doors of my own soul. But oh the world can be such a nasty place and the beauty can be lost in translation through our everyday lives of daily complaints and obligations we take zero pride in doing. So maybe, if I were to share the subliminal splendor of your enchanting soul- the world would be a better place. And with the world being a better place we would call it ours. And those obligations would turn into moments to get to the future’s memories. And every day we would accomplish three impossibilities before the sun found itself in the west. And at night we would lie in tangled limbs of love on feather pillows and fluffy mattresses. And the fear of growing old would disintegrate with only the glitter left of the thought of growing old with you.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Yours
Tattoo my soul
With the surface of your fingertips
And each glide of your touch shall be an image outlined from your heart
And with every sweep of your flesh against mine will be another feeling
For anyone yet to experience what I experience
Your eyes tell a thousand stories
Stories yet to be lived
Within the borders of your lids
And amidst the green glowing maze of your iris
I want to be your narrator
Your plot
Your happy ending
Anything but your writer
As long as I am
Your climax
Your climax
Your drama
Your suspense
Your romance
Yours
Thursday, June 3, 2010
You Two Look Happy
Why didn’t I like you the first time? You know, the time I had you. There’s no need for ever saying first time… there will never be a second time. You were there. In plain sight, clear view. I mean clear sight, plain view. I don’t know anymore. My words are even starting to askew. And now I’m starting to rhyme. Am I just examining what I used to have because what I have right now lacks what I know I need? I know I need you. But you’ll never know. You could be reading this and not even know I’m talking about you. Yes, you. Were we ever together? Did we share a spark? I didn’t even mess this up. I just kind of…sort of… forgot about you. The forgotten will forget the original forgetter. I don’t think it hurt you, but if you gave me the chance, I could get you in the position to be hurt; emotionally, of course. And when I say I can get you in the position to hurt you, I’d be right there with you, sharing all the love vulnerability that love vulnerability can get.
She’s pretty, you know. And you two look happy. Why did I ever let it get this way?
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Growing Up
It's funny how I find myself in this crisis and during this crisis of "growing up" I found an example of how to get through it from a 2 year old.
Today, I spent the day with my Aunt Terry and her friends at their house in Kissimmee. We got there and I was immediately hungry so I of course found myself engrossed 3 feet deep in food. After that I mingled and met a lot of people who I will be seeing more of considering my recent move into my Aunt's house. One of the women I had met was named Michelle and she had two boys, one of which she brought by the name of Brenan. I noticed the dirty tattered bandaids on Brenan's fingers and asked Michelle what had happened. She responded that Brenan got cuts on his fingers from crawling on the ground. Brenan's version of a crawl was not in fact a crawl at all but rather a scoot across the floor with his one leg dragging and used as more of a bumper. Now, most kids by the age of 2 can walk on their own. Brenan here was the fastest little scooter we had seen. It resembled something close to one of those monkeys with the diapers you see at your local pet store. As bizarre as it was, it was just as cute. Michelle had explained that Brenan started to walk on his own but fell once and was scared ever since to walk on his own again. So with the help of a hand, or a table he walked with two legs. Without the help, he became a human scooter.
I overheard Michelle and my aunt talking about how not only was it a fear he had but he had also let it become a habit because it was easier; he had begun to understand the act of laziness. This method of scooting was a way for him to get around without him ever having to use his other leg or to ever have to face his fear of falling again.
Towards the end of the night, my aunt decided she was going to try to get him to walk on his own... even if it were the three feet she distanced him from his mom. Brenan did it. And not only did he do it once, after encouragement and praisal- Brenan did it again and again. With every foot that went in front of the one that had just stepped, a smile was drawn from his two year old left ear to his two year old right ear. As simple as that task was, I could only think about how that reflected many difficult tasks we encounter everyday.
As a society in today's time, we look for the easiest way out. Not only because we accept laziness with open arms, but because we are afraid of a fall, a failure. Brenan may not have known that by dragging his leg he could potentially off set his balance and bone structure being that he is so young and still growing but the fact of the matter is, is that if we continue to take the quickest possible way out of things- we can potentially off set the balance of a healthy routine and habits in our lives. The start of something good will always bring the better karma; the start of something bad only leads to a domino effect of worse things to come.
If a 2 year old can regain the courage to walk after the only traumatic event in his life, a fall, then anyone can regain the strength to realize that we have the ablitiy to do anything. But with such great power, we are blinded by laziness and meaningless routines we end up calling priorities. Those who see past the tempting obstacles are the ones who truly achieve a life well lived and are the ones who deserve it most.
I may be just a college student and have spent the last year drinking like a fish but in life- its not about how many shots you can take at a bar, its how many shots you can take in life to get to where you want to be. Its not how long you can hold a keg stand but how long you can stand for what you believe in. A tequila shot can never get me where I want to be in life. Its only a feeling that can last so long. I don't know where I want to go or what I want to do but I want to figure out what direction, and if that's the hardest path taken, at least I know it will lead to the happiest ever after I'll ever know.
Today, I spent the day with my Aunt Terry and her friends at their house in Kissimmee. We got there and I was immediately hungry so I of course found myself engrossed 3 feet deep in food. After that I mingled and met a lot of people who I will be seeing more of considering my recent move into my Aunt's house. One of the women I had met was named Michelle and she had two boys, one of which she brought by the name of Brenan. I noticed the dirty tattered bandaids on Brenan's fingers and asked Michelle what had happened. She responded that Brenan got cuts on his fingers from crawling on the ground. Brenan's version of a crawl was not in fact a crawl at all but rather a scoot across the floor with his one leg dragging and used as more of a bumper. Now, most kids by the age of 2 can walk on their own. Brenan here was the fastest little scooter we had seen. It resembled something close to one of those monkeys with the diapers you see at your local pet store. As bizarre as it was, it was just as cute. Michelle had explained that Brenan started to walk on his own but fell once and was scared ever since to walk on his own again. So with the help of a hand, or a table he walked with two legs. Without the help, he became a human scooter.
I overheard Michelle and my aunt talking about how not only was it a fear he had but he had also let it become a habit because it was easier; he had begun to understand the act of laziness. This method of scooting was a way for him to get around without him ever having to use his other leg or to ever have to face his fear of falling again.
Towards the end of the night, my aunt decided she was going to try to get him to walk on his own... even if it were the three feet she distanced him from his mom. Brenan did it. And not only did he do it once, after encouragement and praisal- Brenan did it again and again. With every foot that went in front of the one that had just stepped, a smile was drawn from his two year old left ear to his two year old right ear. As simple as that task was, I could only think about how that reflected many difficult tasks we encounter everyday.
As a society in today's time, we look for the easiest way out. Not only because we accept laziness with open arms, but because we are afraid of a fall, a failure. Brenan may not have known that by dragging his leg he could potentially off set his balance and bone structure being that he is so young and still growing but the fact of the matter is, is that if we continue to take the quickest possible way out of things- we can potentially off set the balance of a healthy routine and habits in our lives. The start of something good will always bring the better karma; the start of something bad only leads to a domino effect of worse things to come.
If a 2 year old can regain the courage to walk after the only traumatic event in his life, a fall, then anyone can regain the strength to realize that we have the ablitiy to do anything. But with such great power, we are blinded by laziness and meaningless routines we end up calling priorities. Those who see past the tempting obstacles are the ones who truly achieve a life well lived and are the ones who deserve it most.
I may be just a college student and have spent the last year drinking like a fish but in life- its not about how many shots you can take at a bar, its how many shots you can take in life to get to where you want to be. Its not how long you can hold a keg stand but how long you can stand for what you believe in. A tequila shot can never get me where I want to be in life. Its only a feeling that can last so long. I don't know where I want to go or what I want to do but I want to figure out what direction, and if that's the hardest path taken, at least I know it will lead to the happiest ever after I'll ever know.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Why do I like you?
Why do I like you?
I don't even like me.
Aren't you supposed to love yourself before you even take a step towards the "L" word
to another body other than your own?
I really wished I liked me the way I like you.
And it wouldn't be conceited, because my feelings for you are subtle, and soft. Not obnoxious or too proclaimed. My body inside might shout it all, but my lips remain whispering words I don't even understand. Words that are one syllable, but have a multiplicity of words to define it. I really wished I liked me the way I like you. I'd feel secure, like the blanket I draped across your body that cold night in December.
I'd probably buy myself treats, but not candy. Candy is too tacky for this level of feeling. Treats like a ticket to the theater, a mixed CD with all the songs I felt about myself, homemade clam chowder, the red kind. All for me. And maybe I'd write a book. I suppose that would be called an autobiography, with the typed words in the front "This book is dedicated to myself, Colleen Ladd" And I'd read this book to myself every night, beneath the stars, under the moon, on top of a blanket that was lying among sand and waves- only if I liked myself like I like you.
I don't even like me.
Aren't you supposed to love yourself before you even take a step towards the "L" word
to another body other than your own?
I really wished I liked me the way I like you.
And it wouldn't be conceited, because my feelings for you are subtle, and soft. Not obnoxious or too proclaimed. My body inside might shout it all, but my lips remain whispering words I don't even understand. Words that are one syllable, but have a multiplicity of words to define it. I really wished I liked me the way I like you. I'd feel secure, like the blanket I draped across your body that cold night in December.
I'd probably buy myself treats, but not candy. Candy is too tacky for this level of feeling. Treats like a ticket to the theater, a mixed CD with all the songs I felt about myself, homemade clam chowder, the red kind. All for me. And maybe I'd write a book. I suppose that would be called an autobiography, with the typed words in the front "This book is dedicated to myself, Colleen Ladd" And I'd read this book to myself every night, beneath the stars, under the moon, on top of a blanket that was lying among sand and waves- only if I liked myself like I like you.
A Rant From the Past
Is it quite possible to love someone you barely know?
Well of course, I mean, I know it's possible, but really... am I capable? I have only known him for like two months. There is just no way. But those butterflies... I can feel their wings and their whimsical music fills my stomach like a blown out speaker from my crappy car. It can't be 'love', that word is overplayed. It's what an English teacher would call a 'dead' word. Like the words 'good' and 'happy'. I've always loved English. Ha there I said it 'loved'. Maybe the word 'lust'. Yeah, it's just lust... L-U-S-T. Hmm. "Lust. n. an intense sexual desire". No. Not that one. It's there but it's lacking... lacking a truth beyond those letter clusters. Infatuation. Hmmm, perhaps that's the word. 'Infatuation. n. the state of being completely carried away by unreasoned passion or love.'
How is it possible one word can define so much and be so precise to the very detail of my own body chemicals that give feeling towards this man? This gorgeous, intellectual, captivating man. Is it foolish for me to feel so quickly about another person or is it a sublime utopia of a world that the world has hidden from me 'til now? And why now? Is there even such thing as a reason for everything? Sometimes I think it's an excuse for optimists to fall back on. But don't optimists stand for things? They would never need something to fall on. My glass is clean. Not half full, not half empty. It's clean. What does that make me?
You know the song, "It's a Small World After All" ? Sorry if I got it in your head, it's clingy and creepy. The man I am 'infatuated' with, plays over and over in my mind. Just like that song. Only instead of it being satiating, it's soothing. Like a lullaby. Only I get insomnia, not a dream where I could try to feel close to him like I once was.
That's the reason for these rants.
Well of course, I mean, I know it's possible, but really... am I capable? I have only known him for like two months. There is just no way. But those butterflies... I can feel their wings and their whimsical music fills my stomach like a blown out speaker from my crappy car. It can't be 'love', that word is overplayed. It's what an English teacher would call a 'dead' word. Like the words 'good' and 'happy'. I've always loved English. Ha there I said it 'loved'. Maybe the word 'lust'. Yeah, it's just lust... L-U-S-T. Hmm. "Lust. n. an intense sexual desire". No. Not that one. It's there but it's lacking... lacking a truth beyond those letter clusters. Infatuation. Hmmm, perhaps that's the word. 'Infatuation. n. the state of being completely carried away by unreasoned passion or love.'
How is it possible one word can define so much and be so precise to the very detail of my own body chemicals that give feeling towards this man? This gorgeous, intellectual, captivating man. Is it foolish for me to feel so quickly about another person or is it a sublime utopia of a world that the world has hidden from me 'til now? And why now? Is there even such thing as a reason for everything? Sometimes I think it's an excuse for optimists to fall back on. But don't optimists stand for things? They would never need something to fall on. My glass is clean. Not half full, not half empty. It's clean. What does that make me?
You know the song, "It's a Small World After All" ? Sorry if I got it in your head, it's clingy and creepy. The man I am 'infatuated' with, plays over and over in my mind. Just like that song. Only instead of it being satiating, it's soothing. Like a lullaby. Only I get insomnia, not a dream where I could try to feel close to him like I once was.
That's the reason for these rants.
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