A Completely Serious Prayer

Dear God,

Please, please, please, please, please, please, please help me out here; I cannot go back to online dating. I don't have any intention of going out on a date just yet, but when it happens, please let it be with someone who is a real person that I've met. I'm not sure if you're privy to the nightmarish reality of online dating, but rest assured, it is the seventh circle of hell. Everytime I reactivate my old OKCupid profile I am reminded that even if I "like" them I genuinely already hate them. I swipe through so many profiles, always to the left, always "no", and it's weird because in the back of my mind I want all of them to be Tim. I don't want to date other people, I want to date Tim. Please help me, O Lord, because I'm really feeling some serious neglect. Furthermore, I'd like to talk to you about these stomach aches I have, they're really awful and they've been a real nuisance lately. I'm almost done, but if you could help me sleep a little better so I'm not always such a grump that would be cool too, but if I have to pick and choose I'd like it way more if you could help me procure that job in  Manhattan so that I can get away from here. Here is painful and sad and I really just want to go back home now. Finally, if you could help me not be so pathetic that would be way rad. Send me a sign that it's going to be alright, because I'm losing steam fast and I could really used a boost.

Amen. <3




Alright I lied, this is the last thing, if you could make breakfast magically appear that would be the ultimate gift. I mean really, just tops.

Of Sailing The Sea and Seeing The Stars

Today was hard and unhappy, and I'm still reeling.

I thought about the first time I met you, it was a Sunday and I was walking around my new neighborhood and happened upon a friend outside your bar. I thought about the first time you kissed me, wedged in between my doorway with the sun out and the street busy. I thought about our first date, and when you kissed me on the roof of the building next door to my apartment. I thought about the last time I saw you, different from any other time I ever looked at you. And tonight, or this morning rather, I'll dream about you, and I'll say all the things I didn't say when I wanted to.One day you'll be just like the others, a pleasant thought, a favorite food, a fragrant flower- an object familiar. I won't dream of you forever, or maybe I will, I don't know for sure, but at least for now I'll make it sweet and when I wake I'll pinch myself.

Down In The Dumps

Yesterday evening my boyfriend of roughly 5 months broke up with me and it was the suckiest Monday in the history of the world.

Today I vowed not to wallow in my sadness, and while it hasn't been the raging success I envisioned, it was .005 percent less horrible than yesterday.

In literary terms its referred to as foreshadowing, but what do you call that ominous feeling that looms over what you're sure to be a dark month? He had changed, he no longer cuddled me when we slept, his touches were less tender, and when he spoke to me his words were colder. It wasn't a clean break, certainly not swift and in the end I'm left with more questions than I feel I can handle, at least right now, but I am trying my best. I feel shafted. He sat at the end of my bed and made small talk:
"Did you get new bed sheets?" , "How was your weekend?" it was as if he'd never met me, some stranger forcing him to engage in conversation. I stayed relatively quiet, because I knew that it was coming to an end, and although I had prepared for it for the last week I was still caught off guard by his simple words.

"I came here today to tell you that I don't think we should see each other anymore" (simultaneously inserting a double serrated edge dagger into my already bleeding heart)

My heart sank, my stomach froze, and my eyes welled. "I haven't been happy for a month"(twisting the dagger, delivering the death blow) he went on "I thought maybe it was just me or something but I don't think that it is" (at this point I was imploding and I no longer could think straight so the last quote is a summation of what I believe he said). I swear I could feel the universe collapsing.

Now, there is a back story here, and while I cannot share it, I will tell you that the preface to the week that lead to this blog post was what one would consider a "doozie". I sat there before him and cried, because when you lose someone you love, crying is completely appropriate. I tried my best to look at him and I began "why did you wait so long?" I was awash in what felt like thick ash and acid rain- my mind raced and just as quickly as I was distraught I was also infuriated. With all the time that we shared I feel as if I was robbed of an ending that suited the story of us. So little was said and in my blindness I let him leave with "Good bye, Julie".

I felt defeated right then and today I feel just as bad, but writing is helping. Maybe it's helping? Last night I left him a message that in so many words told him that I just tried to be a good girlfriend and that he matters to me and that I care for him so profoundly.

I don't know what's going to happen, but for now I'll be sad and I'll post the love letter that I wrote to him but never sent.

On this day before the day before Valentines Day

This is my Valentine's Day gift to my boyfriend, Tim.

Roses are red, Violets are blue
I'm 5'3 and You're 6'2
thanks for the kisses, the hugs, and the holds
thanks for the squeezes you give when I'm cold

Here's to the first Valentine's Day we will share
not on the 14th but the 12th day in Février

Here's to the memories I hope you will keep
so near to your heart, down, inside, deep

And last here's this poem, I penned just for you
 So try to be nice, I struggled straight trough

I stumbled on meter, on rhythm, and prose
but it came from the heart, and I know that it knows
what's said best, on paper or verse
what comes out these lips, all pink with slight purse

Happiest of all women that is to say,
I couldn't be luckier this valentine's day

Petite Narative

I remember the time that I died; I lay prostrate on the pavement in the front of an auto shop on one of the coldest nights of the year. It happened quickly and although the timing was imperfect and the scenario seemed surreal, I remember that it didn't hurt- or perhaps it did but my heightened senses refused to let me experience what I had come to know as pain. I can only recall one other time that I was injured in a manner that others would consider grave but that I was unable to experience the extent of those injuries; I was 18 and had just been hit by a pick up truck on my motorcycle. Life is funny like that.

As I lay there on that cold pavement succumbing to my injuries I felt a wave of fear overcome my conscious, then I began to sympathise with my attacker; he must have been desperate, right? I grew colder, and the fear subsided and was replaced with serenity and then the most bizarre thing happened, I had forgotten I was dying and could only think about the inconvenience of being outside on the coldest night of the year to date. I mean, I was beyond irate that my assailant couldn't have killed me in a more convenient, at least for me, place.  

I swear to God that I must've been dying for over an hour, but time seems to register more slowly as you become one with the universe and slip into the bigger picture of ions and atoms and all things quantum. From the time my boyfriend scurried back to the car to grab his pack of cigarettes to the time I fell to the floor spilling what seemed to be quart after quart of precious hemoglobin, it couldn't have been more than two tangible minutes.

The discovery of my body made by my boyfriend was perplexing; he wore this mask I'd never seen before- it was all the emotions he'd never shared with me, or perhaps, never got the chance to, showing themselves to me and I felt uneasy because I couldn't console him properly. His mouth opened wide and he began to speak, maybe yell, I couldn't really comprehend at this point because I was too involved with what was going on with me to pay mind to him; tears began to roll down his face and it was at this moment that I knew I was going away.

I had recalled a conversation I had with an ex-lover of mine long past, we'd spoken of the moment of death and I'd divulged that the thought of death had frightened me, but his reply resonated with me at this moment "it's nothing to fear because you die and then its over" and he was right.

Drifting still, I returned back to the scene, my death, and noticed that my mate was pleading with me to hold on, to stay, and as he held my hand I remember how irritated I was that he was asking for a lot of me when he knew I couldn't deliver. What a jerk.

I really wanted to sit up. I tried to sit up, but god damnit I just couldn't talk to the rest of my body. It was fucking cold out there and so before I decided to take a nap, I looked up at my boyfriend and I told him, that it was cool, "like, it doesn't hurt or anything" and then he just stopped and so did I.

If I could do anything

If I could do anything, anything I wanted, anything at all:

I'd work short evenings at the bar, because it makes me happy

I'd skate at least 3 times a week, I'd compete in the national competitions, and I'd get paid to do it

I'd make pickles and preserves during the day and sell them at local farmers markets around the city

I'd paint more often

I'd write more often

I'd sleep more often

I would spend more time with my family

I would spend more time with my cats

I would spend more time with my friends

I'd travel around the world

I'd eat great food

I'd solve world hunger

I'd solve the world water crisis

I'd hug those who need it

I'd cure terminal illness

I'd ease all the pain

I'd hold all the hands

I'd put more hours in the day

I'd make all the jokes

I'd laugh all the time

I'd cry tears of joy

I'd pet all the animals

I'd get over my fear of sea life

I'd go swimming more often

but most of all, I'd just try and live the life I've always imagined.

But I live in the here and now, and while I would love more time to do the things I want, I'm incredibly happy and blessed to do the things I get to do with the little time that I have.

I've just got to remember to make every second count.

Senor Genjibre

Its one of things that no one dare admit; I care about what you think of me, Mr. Hook-up.

Courting is so weird when you actually think about it, I mean honestly think about how you met your significant. WEIRD, RIGHT? Right.I suppose what I'm getting at is that I hooked up with someone last week and while I normally wouldn't think twice about ol' mister what's-his-name, he did something that's being nagging me since.

He said he liked me. 

WHO DOES THAT?

I should give precedence for this anecdote if for anything just to visualize and get to the heart of the issue for myself.

Three weeks ago I sat alone in a bar in Downtown, I was wearing my favorite paisley dress and sipping club soda and angostura bitters. I was killing time, waiting for my brother to get off work so I could give him a ride home. Absolutely nothing exceptional was happening. I turned my gaze to the door that leads to the patio and saw my friend Nico walk through the door. While I was completely content to remain seated alone at the bar, it was nice to run into a friend I don't see too often; he ran over, hugged me, invited me to the patio party they (his group of friends) were having.

Nico is this young, beautiful 20 something with great hair and a since of sweet naivety about him. Introductions commenced, I must have met 15 people in 30 seconds. Ask me who was there that evening and I'll draw blank, save for one.

This is how I met Mark.

Mark is an unassuming man; slight build, freckled face, strawberry blond hairstyle from the late 90's, with the reddest beard I've ever seen. I can't remember what was said, but I recall telling him about my book project, and I may or may not have made fun of him because he is from Dallas.

He told me he had a degree in Spanish and I swear to fucking God I almost died.

Quite possibly the whitest person I have ever met has a degree in Spanish and lives in Texas. Take whatever time you need to at this moment to contemplate, research, and whatever else you have to do to come to the conclusion I did at the moment following his statement.

I could tell that making a "useless degree" joke would be alright because I'd already made fun of him and he was being a great sport. I proceeded with "you have a degree in Spanish?! That's almost as useless as my degree in English!" (All joking aside, I think any degree attained is an accomplishment and kudos to you for pursuing what makes you happy). We chatted for a bit longer and decided to bar hop with the rest of the party, which we'd at this point completely ignored because we're self indulgent assholes who are terrible at being inclusive


and I'm going to stop telling this story right now because it's fucking pathetic and boring and its starting to piss me off.


I am just bummed about a boy. 

If you ever get the chance to be completely honest with someone, I strongly suggest you throw caution to the wind and do it because there is nothing more cruel than leading someone on.

If you hook up, just hook up, and refrain from insisting that you genuinely like the person you're hooking up with, you had your night, let it be done.


I'm gonna get over this in like, 10 minutes- till then I'm going to listen to Against Me! and feel sorry for myself.