July 2010
18 posts
“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”
– ray bradbury
“Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the spaces between the notes and curl my...”
– Maya Angelou
CURVE-SPIRATION.
So I’m sure a lot of you ladies out there have heard of “thin-spiration”… which is when girls that are trying to lose weight or diet cut out pictures of thin celebrities to motivate them to keep up the routine or whatever. I personally never really understood this concept. To me, it only intensifies the already crazy media ideals that lead many girls (and boys) to eating...
Found a piece I wrote about a year ago...
My sister Tori spent the night last night, and I found something I wrote for class that reminded me why I appreciate her unconditional love so much! <3
My Sister and I
My sister Tori and I have always been pretty close. She’s almost seven years my junior, which always seemed to be the perfect interval of ages; We were close enough for witty interplay over our family dinner...
eating to live!
**DISCLAIMER: THIS LITTLE JOURNAL ENTRY IS VERY RANDOM, HORRIBLY COMPILED, AND IS IN NO WAY INTENDED TO OFFEND. HAVE A NICE DAY!**
Many people close to me have had a lot of questions over the past seven months since I’ve drastically changed my diet. And by ‘diet’, I am referring to my habitual nourishment patterns, not ‘diet’ as in a fad to lose weight. Most of the questions are out of...
“I think of the days we were gods and goddesses, playing ball with planets. We...”
– Yoko Ono
i have a paralyzing fear.
I have a fear that I am going to fall in love with the “perfect” guy, have the white picket fence, 2.5 children… and wake up one day to realize I made a terrible mistake. The man I’ve lived with for 25 years is a work-a-holic who has never asked me how I’m feeling or tried to get to the heart of any matter. My life has passed by and consisted of mundane household...
Ray Lamontagne is such an amazing writer. For...
Empty
She lifts her skirt up to her knees walks through the garden rows with her bare feet laughing I never learned to count my blessings I choose instead to dwell in my disasters I walk on down the hill through grass grown tall and brown and still it’s hard somehow to let go of my pain On past the busted back of that old and rusted Cadillac that sinks into this field collecting...
love turned conditional.
it was told to me you held my tiny finger through the crib
desperate for me to sleep soundly, touching something safe.
but as i grew you no longer gave me hugs, but looks of disapproval.
i no longer was wordless and perfect, but a growing human who saw your flaws.
you couldn’t look to me to forget your own demons any...
A Complex Contrast (poem i wrote a while ago)
Her body is severe Not containing the gentle slope of a woman’s hip, but made up of pointed corners that boys stub their toes on The jut of her jaw suggests a more masculine tone and boys see in her, themselves- and mistake the likeness for sexual attraction… What a vain species. After they leave, does her furniture fold itself back up? Or does she lay sprawled across her bed with her...
