Et tu, Brutus?

Dear Reader. Here's the lowdown. The skinny if you will. MalloryMallory and I went to Kalebs house this evening(yesterday, really. Say about ten thirty) in order for me to get the next book in this series he's got me hooked on and so that MalloryMallory wasn't just driving aimlessly, wasting gas. So, we arrive and the roommates let me pass and all that jazz. Kaleb is playing COD ( I will NEVER understand) with his buddies (Man Night) and I'm sitting there chatting when it hits me. HE'S SUPER FANTASTIC. I mean, I'm there, with one of my friends, just smacking him in the face (intentionally) with my ponytail and he's ignoring it and letting me and at the same time, totally loving it. That would have driven Kain up the wall. There were all these things I couldn't do that are open to me now. His mom wants to meet me. His sisters like me (And wont try to get with my ex's), we communicate openly and see each other regularly. So, I think I'm going to go for it. I know, I know. I can see the scene now. You pull me aside and ask, "but, haven't you already gone for it?" "Well, in a way, yes. But love, I was terribly frightened of losing Kain." "Hadn't you lost him?" "Yes. Physically. But the idea of him. You must understand that memories are tangible and entrancing. I don't need them though. Kain has given me more memories and they're unpleasant. More unpleasant than the good ones can outweigh." "Oh" "Exactly. So for now, Dear Reader, we plunge into the deep end" *Inner monologue head tilt* "A slow motion plunge, if it pleases you."

A Pocket Full Of Horses.

Dear reader,
You've been so pleasant about this adventure. It's quite nice of you really. But you must be terribly confused. I know I am. So, with no further ado I give you for YOUR READING PLEASURE....
A Cast Of Characters.(And Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band)
Elizabeth- C'est moi, your brave and diligent heroine. Who is occasionally idiotic and overly emotional.
Milliebeth- Mon meillure aime, She is generally insane and believes in random capitalization. Also, creates much art. Overall radsaucefacetastic.
Brecca-mon camarade d'âme, Comes complete with a constantly changing hairstyle, life lessons and a fantastic sense of humor. Some assembly required.
Benny-notre beauté endormie, Understanding, ridiculously tall and the Benny to Breccas' June. Or the Will to her Grace.
Kameroon-mon cousin qui embrasse, He's occasionally grumpy and rather harsh(in a truthful manner) but more than loving and willing to lock me in a tower far away. Like buried treasure.
MalloryMallory- mon promeneur de corde raide, Girl on the edge, teetering towards the world. The world will catch her and raise her up. I have all faith in this.
Kaleb-Le héros, Makes me smile. Treats me as though I am precious. Like dihydrogen oxide. Or walnuts. We'll see
Joshua-Le lien à mon passé. He's gone for two years and I can't seem to write him. But I love him. The dirty little thing.
Kain-Mon enfer personnel ou, Ours. Formerly referred to as the antihero of these pages but more commonly known as the boy who broke my heart. Let's grow up love.
Jordan-Ma soeur de coude. She's pretty great. Once you get down there. Which is difficult. Try harder.
Jakers-L'oeil de l'orage. We're new at this friend thing. But it looks pretty much like we'll end up old hands at it. Thicker than theives. Plus, he has Daisy.
Daisy-La pomme de mon oeil. She's almost one. And is adorable. And I want to make her mine. Plus, her little bark grabbed me by the heartstrings. Cutest puppylove you've ever seen.

Of Cabbages and Kings.

Every evening you break my heart and every morning I am reborn, only to miss you once more. This violent delight will be my violent end as I whisper to the silence of the eternal inferno, I love you.

That's what was running through my head this morning as I looked at the pictures of him with someone else. Is that how he feels when he knows that I'm not kissing the lips I am missing? Is it wrong that I want him to feel like this? Also, I don't understand why she's treating him like this. If they broke up(and this is only to the extent of my knowledge) because of the way she was acting and treating him, continuing to act as though you're together and doing the same behaviors that pushed him away, wont help. And who knows, he could be texting her sweet nothings and telling her that he loves her. It's cynical and heartbreaking but I wouldn't be surprised. I feel lied to and am not afraid to say it. I wish I could say that he was only treating me this way because he wants me to sleep with me. But I can't. And it's no longer for the noble reason that I trust him. Instead I think I'm in the twisted little game of his. I feel like a toy. Something that he can go to if there's nothing else, but only if he's entirely bored with the rest of the world. Which isn't okay. But I let him. At least I know it's not okay. Admit, acknowledge, recover?


God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can and Wisdom to know the difference.

Writers Block - A poem in three parts

A piece of paper, unmarred and crisp. Blue lines in sharp contrast to the smooth white. I pour myself onto it. Close, tight muscle movments. I think too fast for the paper to ever know what's happening. Those who write of love could never write of me. I occur too quickly for myself. I write not from arrogance or a necessary sense of self preservation. These are the words of a desperate woman. Or a scared girl. I'm not entirely sure which one I am. On one hand I am seven. Diry and enthralled but trapped by my age. On the other I am seventy. Well versed and alive but trapped by my age. Dear reader. Look beyond my age and into my soul. I am more than my seventeen years. I am a teacher, a mother, a fighter and a conscientious objector. I who have loved more passionately than you could imagine. I dare not to say you have not loved as I have but rather that you cannot imagine that I could know love at my age. The sense of love is with us all. From birth we love. And we are able to love, a thousand times over and over, the incorrect and correct persons. You cannot put a ban on love. It cannot conform to your standards or your rules. They mean nothing to it. Love is an inconvience. It will not be there when you want it nor when when you believe you need it. You cannot expect it to check your schedule first. You can only surrender now or fight it and surrender later. There's no point in labeling it or transforming it into something formulaic. It is never at first glance what it will be when you walk away. This paper, fresh and new, is now love. Consider everything multifaceted. Dear reader, are you in love yet?

Cause this paranoia is getting old.

I'll be eighteen soon. A big girl. I can vote and live on my own and pay taxes. But, more importantly, I wont have to adhere to city curfew! And, I don't need a permission slip to get a tattoo. Which is what I'm here to talk about, dear reader. I chose an owl because they're symbols of wisdom and wealth, two things I can really use to be reminded of. But they're so much more than that in multiple cultures.


THE RUNDOWN ON OWLS
Native Americans associated the meaning of owl with wisdom, foresight, and keeper of sacred knowledge. This may largely be due to the fact that the owl is a great foreteller of weather conditions.The shaman would call upon Owl medicine for insight into the truth of ill-intent. Plains Indians wore owl feathers to protect against evil spirits. West African and Aboriginal Australian cultures also saw the owl as a messenger of secrets, and companions to medicine people.

In the celtic tradition, the owl (cailleach-oidhche), represents wisdom, clairvoyance, stealth, initiation, change and detachment. Always aware of its surroundings, the owl uses intuition courageously, with insight into hidden truth, and a guide between earth creatures and Underworld deities. The owl is an effective hunter. The owl can help to reveal those who would take advantage of another or deceive others.

In the mythology of ancient Greece, Athene, the Goddess of Wisdom, was so impressed by the great eyes and solemn appearance of the Owl that, having banished the mischievous crow, she honoured the night bird by making him her favourite among feathered creatures. Athene's bird was a Little Owl, (Athene noctua). This Owl was protected and inhabited the Acropolis in great numbers. It was believed that a magical "inner light" gave Owls night vision. As the symbol of Athene, the Owl was a protector, accompanying Greek armies to war, and providing ornamental inspiration for their daily lives. If an Owl flew over Greek Soldiers before a battle, they took it as a sign of victory. The Little Owl also kept a watchful eye on Athenian trade and commerce from the reverse side of their coins.(http://www.owlpages.com/articles.php?section=owl+mythology&title=myth+and+culture)

Over the centuries, owls have been known as protectors and guides, safely creating passage from one area of life into the next. As I pass into my next stage of life, I'd like to have the protection that the owl offers.

Kevin Costner as Robin Hood?

I've actually never seen this before. I guess I'm just on a roll. So far it just isn't measuring up to Robin Hood; Men in Tights. But that's beyond the point Mr. Martin. Did you ever watch the old Tom and Jerry cartoons? Well, right now I feeel like I'm stuck in one. Although, I'm not sure if I'm Tom or Jerry. I seem to be the one in charge, cornering him, knowing I've won when suddenly the dynamite goes off and I'm left dazed as he runs into his hole and I have to wait. Or he'll be in charge, forging ahead when I realize I can't do what he's asking, and I run into my hole after a diversion involving a giant hammer and little birds tweeting around his head. I don't want to be either. Why should we be Tom and Jerry if we could be Fred and Wilma? Life could be so much easier if he'd just relax for a second and realize that he's not happy and keeps coming back to me to try and become happy. The math is extraordinarily simple. I make him happy. He makes me happy. Together we are happy. Apart we are mediocrely pleased. Does anyone else see the flaw in this logic? And wouldn't the guy who plays Dr. Cox on Scrubs make an interesting Robin Hood?

Life, as I knew it.

It's like my skin doesn't fit quite right. I want to stretch but am confined. I find myself dissatisfied with everything that occurs. I am on the road to recovery right now. I fell in love. It ended melodramatically and continues sociopathically. If someone loves you, leaves you, comes back, loves you, leaves you, comes back, loves you, leaves you, comes back and is loving you again, do you wait? Or do you leave first? What if they don't leave this time? Allegedly, the third time is the charm. If they aren't happy and return to you, do they love you? I only have questions, and I need answers. I plan on finding the answers. How do you know you love someone? If you are willing to dedicate your time to them, do what they need to be happy, sacrifice personal comforts to help them achieve their goals, iron their shirts and want to spend the rest of your life seeing their face when you wake up, are you in love? I'd like to present to you, dear reader, that I love him. And that he loves me.

"Everybody has a different idea of love. I knew a girl once who told me, 'I knew he loved me when he didn't come in my mouth'."-Andy Warhol