Exit 185
So I wrote this poem about going home. Wanna see it? Well, here is the first draft. It's going to need some revisions, in fact I'm thinking about making it two separate poems. I'll post the revision eventually.
Exit 185
The mile marker hadn’t changed.
The curve last hiding slope, its median sidled
with man-made forests to the middle
and nature’s wooded barrier
on the right has not changed
from the so many trips—from different cities
away from different reasons—that I had
made before. I’d gun the engine, free
from highway patrol officers, close
to home. The slope becomes
shallower, shorter. The sensations grip
my nerves as my fingernails dig
into the steering wheel: excitement
insecurity, love, separation.
At the top of the hill, the highway meanders
slightly to the right and straightens. The viaduct
before me and the fork with secret intuition
invites me to come home. The world stops
at Exit 185. The raft of concrete connecting
the lands separated by highway
is void of obstacles, yet my worldliness
is imprisoned; the world does not permeate
these borders. Two turns and I’m disturbed
at the most recent capitalist broken attempts
to modernize this microcosm—vivid signs
offering gas, thirty-one flavors, chicken, waffles—
a designer gown on a hooker. I speed
beyond them and, after a combination
of turns and straight distances, measured relief
stills my core before my long ago
dwelling-place of my youth.
When I was a girl standing outside
only the stars interrupted
the navy-violet void
two young trees appeared
as strong weeds towering
over a blend of green and tan fauna.
Tonight those trees separate my view
from the velvet sky. I’m surprised
they came from barely nothing
to exceeding my expectations.
Time did this to the trees
but what did time do to me?
Age lines my eyes and layers my body
weighs my mind and darkens my youthful
dreams with years of forlorn melancholy.
I have lived away from these woods
these woes once entrapped turned
to musings of fear unremembered.
Years interrupt my childhood from this night.
The astral light bulbs sprawl the sky, my
favorite night light casts a translucent sheet
of bright periwinkle about all I see.
The relations between earth and sky
are amiable, on one accord
and I agree with them.
My pupils widen, my vision
bullets beyond the tree limbs
into the stars, all muses of serenity.
No wild gusts of youth to blow away
my still and certain spirit. Those days
have matured to lessons, secrets of a woman.
Labels: My Writing, Poetry, Thoughts
Either I'm Normal or I've Met Another Abnormal Person
There's a friend that has confirmed that I do have a good sense of humor.
Well, at least one that she understands.
I have another friend that I tend to scare with my humor. When I asked her if she got my humor, she gave me a scared look as she said, "sometimes."
Like for instance, yesterday was such a wonderfully warm day that my afternoon class went outside. I along with several students sat in the grass and the rest were on concrete. After I got up and started walking, I tactfully blurted, "my butt is moist."
She cringed as I laughed at the look on her face.
The point is one person understands me! Yay!
Labels: Humor, My Writing, Prose, Thoughts
What Is the Problem, Now?
Two things on this blog (there's more, but I'm blocking them to avoid having to plead an insanity case for what I may do if I ride that train of thought) that I'm going to bug you about.
Nah, one at a time. I'll make this one first so it will be second and the next one will be first until the next one which will be after this one and this one will no longer be first.
Catch that? Good. I don't want you trying to read that again.
So my dad calls me. (I'm thinking about making a category called, "Yeah, this one is about my daddy again..." Who knows.) He says nice things to me like, "I love you," "I just want what's best for you," and stuff like that.
I didn't buy it. I knew he was about to say something that made me want to ask him, "What is that supposed to mean, pal?"
He said, "but my heart goes out for you."
What is that supposed to mean, pal?
Okay, you guys, you have read my conversations with my father before, so I ask you. What--oh yeah, I said that twice already, didn't I?
I know one thing. I have to do well here. I have to succeed. Want to know why? Because there are some times that I think about my father. Though I know that there are some men who have lived their whole lives without knowing their children's faces, I should be grateful of knowing my father's name among other things. At the same time, I recall some of the things he has said to me and I wonder. Am I the only person that he talks to like that? Is he seeing my mama when he sees me? Can he not find any redeeming qualities that warrant me to be a little more than mentally incapacitated? Would he even treat me the same way if I were the person that I am when I am away from him? What does he see in me that makes him think that I gave him carte blanche on verbally abusing me the way he does? How can I even remain to have emotional ties to a man who diminishes my spirit whenever he berates me about intangible things?
(Looks like I got my boarding pass and have taken my seat. I might as well continue this train.)
It is my dream to have a dialogue with him that would leave me empowered for a change. It's like Lucy and Charlie Brown. Yup, I went there. Go with me on this. Why does he ever so rarely convince me that he is going to keep the football for me to kick and snatches it whenever I begin to entrust my emotions towards him? Why do people do that? Are some people's souls fed when make others feel as if they are beneath them?
Listen, people. This man is my sole flesh and blood in the universe. There is nobody else who is uniquely connected to me by my parents. So why in the Sam Hill (this is a family blog, you know...) is this happening to me? Am I supposed to be strengthened by it? Is it supposed to build me up? Well, guess what, people. It devastates me.
What's worse? I do love my father and I refuse to give up on him, but I know I will never get the love that I once felt from him ever again. How can my spirit get over something like that? How can I even consider that I can possess pure love--any kind of love--when the first man in my life cannot fulfill me?
Labels: My Opinion, My Writing, The Negatives, Thoughts
I'm Going to Hide
I often wonder if people feel the way I feel. I think that was confirmed last night.
Let me preface this by saying that I have yet to find an on-campus student who is as old as I am. The oldest that I have found is 25.
I had a person--well, more than one person do this, but this one was different--jokingly insult me. The thing is that what she said was right. She told me that nobody got my jokes because I was old. I didn't think that I would have been upset about it. Dare I say, I took it well. This statement was one of those things that stops time, everyone laughs out loud as they, "ooooohh," and congratulate the person who said it.
Sounded like everyone agreed.
I laughed about it, too, after I almost jumped on her. I couldn't laugh as hard given what had been going on with my father. But at this moment, I am hard-pressed to not let it get to me.
In one sense, I know there is this universality of at least okay with one's self. However, I know this--actually, I've known for all of my life--something that is really painful to me.
I'm one of those people who just don't get it. I've always felt as if I were standing outside a building that all of the people around me are standing in. I see myself pulling, pushing, and tugging hard at the door, begging people to let me in, but nobody has a notion to allow me inside.
I remember when I was in the first grade. I had my first "best friend," Lisa. We would play and talk and lots of things. One day, when I got to school, she was playing with three other girls, Pat, Bettina, and Gwen. At the time, she and I were the only black girls in that grade. And she hated me. She was definitely one of the cool ones--people liked her, she was smart, she had long, thick, pretty hair--and I think she might have deemed me as being competition or just unworthy. So she and the other two literally snatched Lisa away from me. LITERALLY. They had one arm and I had the other. I was pulling with all of my might to keep my friend, but they were relentless. Over the years, I've thought that Lisa wanted to go.
I've had things happen to me in my childhood that affected me. Let me just say there are men out there who are really sick. My mom's car accident affected me, also.
I think that if I let anyone around me read this, there would be either pity or dispute, but I know it's true.
Anyway, I'm not rich enough to buy a person to help me change my personality, so I guess that I'll just have to deal with it.
Labels: My Opinion, My Writing, Prose, Thoughts
My Birthday Post
Of course I don't have time to actually tell you about my birthday today, but I wanted to establish this post for when I do have a chance.
Labels: My Writing, Prose, Thoughts
Ten Things This Tuesday
"I hold it, that a little rebellion, now and then, is a good thing, and as necessary in the political world as storms in the physical." - Thomas Jefferson
Ten things that I'm afraid of this morning:
1. I will not lose weight this year. Mind you, it will not be completely my fault. I gave you a chance! I told you, but...
2. Nobody, or at least only a handful of people, will read and comment on my blog. I'm not doing a sit-up, I'm not walking, and it's all your fault because I really am exchanging working out for comments.
3. People here will not recognize my birthday. I don't want that either, mainly because I'm beginning to feel that...
4. My birthday has become just another day to even me! I'm no rocket scientist, but not being acknowledged... well, that's just a bunch of dookie, dad gum it!
5. Spanish class. For those of you who know, I'm scared. I'm terrified. I'm scared that I'm not going to do well in this and I really want to do well. I saw my Spanish professor and I'm utterly terrified. I'm feeling ill now because my semester starts within an hour with her! SCREAMING! SCREAMING, I TELL YOU, SCREAMING!!!!!!
6. Spanish class. Yup, scared enough that it bears repeating. SCREAMING AGAIN! SCREAMING! OH DEAR GOODNESS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DESERT WITH NOT A DROP TO DRINK SCARED!!!!
7. Not doing well enough in my other classes. I have a ton of books to read and I feel overwhelmed. Hopfully I'll be able to get through them all. At least my Spanish class (SCREAMING!!!) may not require any writing papers.
8. My Spanish class will require writing papers. SCREAMING!
9. That I'm making the right decision. What if I don't get a degree after all of this hard work? You have no idea how smart the kids are around here. I mean there are people who have gotten 30-something on their ACT's and are here.
10. I will not get to accomplish any real goals this year. I don't want to muddle through the rest of my life. I feel like I have been and I just do not want that any more. I just don't know if I will ever learn the things that everyone else knows to make me have a normal life instead of struggling for the rest of my life.
Labels: My Writing, Ten Things This Tuesday
His Day My Way
On this holiday one year ago, I submitted an op/ed piece that I'd like to share with you today. Itgot posted in my local city paper as well as in a newspaper in a large city. I'm thrilled to have read it again. I almost cannot believe these are my words, so you know that means I feel like I was led to write them. I hope you enjoy them as well.
What are your plans for today? I am delighted that the college I attend will be closed for Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. It will give me a chance to prepare for my first classes after explaining policies and syllabi.
In the past, on the third Monday of January, i have done things that my ancestors of yesteryear were not able to do: walked in the front door of many otherwise racially exclusive restaurants and stores or rode in the front half of city transportation. It was my secret way of honoring Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and the era that allows me these now-normal actions.
I'd make sure that I wore my favorite t-shirt that displays Martin Luther King, Jr. and a quote:
"Violence as a way of acheiving racial justice is both impractical and immoral. It is impractical because it is a descending spiral ending in destruction for all. The old law of an eye for an eye leaves everyone blind. it is immoral because it seeks to humiliate the opponent rather than win his understanding; it seeks to annihilate rather than convert. Violence is immoral because it thrives on hatred rather than love. It destroys community and makes brotherhood impossible. It leaves society in monologue rather than dialogue. Violence ends by defeating tiself. It creates bitterness in the survivors and brutaility in the destroyers."
In a time where violence is used to express insignificant rationality as fervently as powerful causes, this quote is more exigent than when it was initially expressed.
I implore readers to take a few minutes andreflect how their lives would be different if a lady had decided to move to the back of the bus.
I implore everyone to consider how enriched we would all be without James Meredith's bravery and determination to become educated at the University of Mississippi.
I implore everyone to ask themselves if how they think about human equality is regressive or progressive.
I implore everyone to release the mental binds that restrict their humanity.
Finally, each of us should consider this holiday as an Independence Day in January.
I ask all who chose to honor this day to please do so with reverence. I know I will. I'll be the one in the black t-shirt.
Labels: Feel Goods, My Blog, My Opinion, My Writing, Thoughts
Ten Things This Tuesday...Oh no, not again...
Yup. I'm late again and I don't even have much time for this either, but since things are narrowing down to where I have to declare myself as "forty-something," I figured I better make this one count. I have one more Tuesday before my birthday, (would I be too narcissistic if I told you that I'll be 41 on January 17th, two days after Martin Luther King, and the same birthday as Betty White, Muhammed Ali, Jim Carrey, and James Earl Jones and that they are in wonderful company? Nah. Not me. Not my style...) so I will try to make my posts count worth something.
Okay, the other posts. This one will not mean much more than squat.
Ten things I am able to do that a woman half my age could not.
1. Have a man 10-15 years younger than me and it would still be okay. Hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it. Now all I have to do is try it.
2. Laugh out loud and not care about what anyone thinks when they hear me. Well, I was doing that before, but at half my age, I was trying to be cool. Besides, my mama would always get on my case: "Stop all of that loud laughing! You sound like..." Fill in the blank on that; she'd fill it with cow, whore, prostitute, hooker, or whatever embarrassing or humiliating thing that would appear to make me quiet. Nowadays, I think my laugh is a fantastic characteristic, dad gum it. Dare I say that the people who know me would agree.
3. Wear weird things. I'll have to take a pic of my newest cap and put it in here to let you see what I mean. I'm not even sure how I look to other people with it on, but I adore it on me. Isn't that's what is supposed to matter?
4. Be myself. It's a little hard to do sometimes because there are parts of myself that I'd rather change.
5. Reinvent myself. Isn't 40 the new 30 anyway? Besides, I look so good for my age that I don't even have to...
6. Lie about my age. But I'm thinking about it. Especially since the average age people think I am is 24-34.
7. Reflect. I can take a look back at my life and be proud of what I didn't accomplish. Doen't make sense, huh... Yeah, I know. I'll have to do another total blog on that one.
8. Look forward with different eyes. The future at 40 is totally different than the future at 20. Let's face it, when we realize that we are adults or are no longer young, we see things in a totally different life.
9. Ask questions. There are some people in my life that I can ask questions about now that would seem disrespectful when I was half my age. I'd like to go have drinks in a smoky club with some of my older relatives.
10. Admit to mistakes. There's no sense in my having pride about things that I've done wrong. Truth be told, by the time people get to 40, we all would have made at least one error in judgement. If we are lucky, we may even be able to laugh at them, like the time I had five shots of Jose' Cuervo 1800 tequila and then ate an order of buffalo wings slathered with ranch dressing (huge mistake)!!!
Labels: Feel Goods, Humor, My Writing, Ten Things This Tuesday
Look at What They Made Me Do!
I checked my email the other day. Among them was a friend who invited me to Facebook.
I cringed at the sight of it. Something about social circles freak me out in real life as it is. Now having to do it online? Good grief. Did I succumb to that demon? Yup. Sure did. It took me a while to set up my profile and stuff--I did some at my job and some at home. I finally did it, though. I had even thought about setting up one through my online name, Gina Kohl, but that may get confusing to me. Not that I don't mind, but my real name is so blatantly unusual that I don't like using it here.
I'm not sure that I would be able to completely get into divulging all of the information that they ask for. In fact, in the "interests" column, I wrote, " My interests interest only me. Why bore you with them?" I asked myself if I would I want to know everything there is to know about every friend I have? No. I don't think I do. I don't want to know what Brenda's interests are, what type of music she likes, what groups she's in, what other people say about her, what their interests are, how she knows all of these people... well, you get the point. What did I find myself doing? I clicked on just about every person I knew on this campus, asked them if they would be my friend, and when they did, I entered how I knew them, and... Let's just say that I had to slowly back away from the computer. I have a life! I have priorities! I was in the middle of watching the "America's Next Top Model" mega-marathon, for crying out loud!
So, will Facebook take in my soul? I will forbid it to do so and you want to know why? Because I love you! I won't let that dastardly monstrosity take up all of my time and let it try to keep me away from you! You mean the world to me! There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about you!
Labels: Humor, My Writing, Prose
Ten Things This Tuesday....Wait a Cotton-Picking Minute!
Nope, I haven't lost my mind. It's Wednesday, but I am awake early and you want to know who was on my mind? You! Yes, you! Particularly the one relate-tive who says he looks forward to my TTTT. So here you go.
Ten things that I yearn for:
1. To hear Wilson Pickett, Lou Rawls, June Pointer, Billy Preston, Gerald Levert, and James Brown (and if you promise to not tell anyone, Buck Owens) sing one more time. (For Buck, I just want to hear him say, "Hee Haw" just one more time. I don't need a song from him, really. Is that wrong? Yup, it is, but then I'm no country-music fan, either.)
2. To see Mike Douglas and Edward Bradley (the sexiest man in journalism!) perform one more intriguing interview.
3. To read one more new novel from Bebe Cambell Moore.
4. And while I'm at it, to be able to have such a successful career like she did.
5. To have another accidental president like Gerald Ford. At least the only accidents Ford appeared to be like pratfalls. Should our current president make only those kinds of mistakes... (Yup, I said it, but I still love you, my dear reader.)
6. To see Bruno Kirby (look up the name, you will know him by face), Shelley Winters, Tony Franciosa (good grief, he was a good-looking man), Al Lewis (another name you may have to look up), Don Knotts, Dennis Weaver, Darin McGavin, Maureen Stapleton, Kasey Rogers, Red Buttons, Jack Warden, Peter Boyle, Jack Palance, and Mike Evans (I just realized that you may have to look up a lot of these people. Don't worry, I got you.)
7. To have been smart enough (and excited enough) to have listened to Louis Rukeyser.
8. To have remembered the Spanish I learned. I passed, but I really need to talk the talk and it is very frustrating not to be able to use it anywhere. I really want to know it as fluently as I know English.
9. To have successfully completed a different resolution. Resolving to not have any resolutions was a little too easy.
10. (Dare I say it...) A hug from my mama and to hear her be "Nikki."
Let me say that this is the link where I got to reflect on all of the people who died in 2006. It will give details on who all of those people are.
Labels: My Writing, Ten Things This Tuesday
- Cher
So this is something I wrote in response to a challenge. The challenge was the poem was supposed to be about not getting something you wanted in your childhood or being disappointed about something in your childhood at Christmastime. Maybe y'all can tell me about your grumpiest Christmas--hopefully something you can look back on and laugh about. I just wrote something that came to mind, not from my personal history.
Enjoy!
“He’s real! He’s real! I know it for sure!
I know he’s as real as the snow is pure!”
Some idiotic parent told their kids the truth
and now I’m dealing with dreams gone poof.
“Honey, Santa’s real. You’re the one who’s right,
but only by faith, not by touch, not by sight.
He’s real in the snowflakes, he’s real in the stars.
But most of all, honey, he’s real in our hearts.”
I could bear no more as I saw a trail appear
upon that cherubic cheek from one single tear.
Her eyebrows furrowed when she said, “Aw, shucks.
How else will my lil’ brother get those Tonka trucks?”
Labels: My Writing, Poetry
I Screamed
I thought that this poem might be appropriate. My stats say that this would mark my 200th post. I beg to differ since I've posted more than one unoriginal thought. This is my poem, though, and I hope it awakens you. I have to remind myself that this is a calling I made within me for so many reasons. I hope this inspires you as much as it inspires me.
I Screamed
I screamed.
I screamed at the whole, wide world.
I screamed at a handful of people.
I screamed at myself.
I screamed at the ruthless nemesis that lies within.
My scream opened at the dark, hovering, clouds
Getting some spirits’ attention.
My scream cracked the earth’s crust
Informing some demons to take notice.
My scream reached through time
Angry at my forefathers’ slack
Demanding my offspring that of excellence
Exclaiming one to have wanted more
The other to accept no less.
My scream reached
Through dendrites
Through capillaries
Through epidermis
To atoms
My scream adjusted spirit.
My scream adjusted soul.
My scream adjusted consciousness.
My scream shook them.
My scream funneled them.
My scream made them agree
That enough is enough.
That finger-pointing is no more.
That progress and discipline are psalms of praise.
I screamed.
I screamed.
I screamed.
I screamed.
I screamed.
Until all I could do was inhale.
Labels: Feel Goods, My Writing, Poetry
Ten Things This Tuesday
Ten things I miss about sleep:
1. My pillow. It's a thick, deep, egg-crate puckered slath of spongy stuff.
2. My second pillow. It's become a flat thing, but it's not it's fault.
3. My sheets. The ones I have on my bed are cheap, powder blue sheets, but they are so soft.
4. My afghan. It's a purdy thing. It's multicolored and in that zig-zag style. I made it.
5. My blanket. My grandmother made it. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
6. My comforter. It reminds me of Yolanda. She and her mother gave it to me. I like it. It matches all of the sheet sets I have.
7. Waking up when it's daylight. I have my bed next to the window, and if the alarms don't awaken me, the sunlight from the bed does. It's so hot.
8. My eyes. They were once so brown and clear. I didn't feel them as much. Right now, they feel like sandpaper against my eyelids.
9. My sanity. I've lost my mind. It's somewhere around here, I know it is. I'm gonna go check under my bed.
10. Time. It seems to be going so fast. Next week is finals; a month break and it starts up all over again.
I'm going to try to perk myself up with soap and water. I promise to not forget deoderant.
Labels: Humor, My Writing, Ten Things This Tuesday
Ten Things This Tuesday
A whole pack of gum for anyone that can elaborate on that quote. I'm not taking any philosophy classes here for nothin', I tell ya!
So, what do I have for you this Tuesday? Nothin. I gots nothin'. Nothin' at all.
Okay. Now I do.
Ten things I will not accept for Christmas:
1. Dog accessories. I have no dog.
2. Cat accessories. I have no cat.
3. Hair accessories. I have hair, but I haven't combed it in a while. Let's face it, I am making all of the women around me look good just because I'm not a size 6 and I don't comb my hair. It's cute to me and that's all that matters. Well, that and I don't want to even think of the pain I will have to suffer from combing my hair.
4. Clothes. I'm just not in the "new clothes" mood. Besides, I'm trying to make all of the women around me look better than they do. If I get all gussied up, I'd drive all of the men crazy. Okay, I mean in a good way and not the way I drive them crazy now.
5. A car. I'd probably have to pay more for insurance on it. Now, if you've got the insurance on that, I may have to reconsider. Yet even then, I don't really want ...
6. A really cute or big car. I mean I'll be happy with a funky car that runs really well. No sense in pushing up my standards any higher than I'm accustomed to. No sense looking like a hillbilly on Rodeo Drive if I don't have to.
7. A plasma television. I'd have to hang it then I'd have to watch it day and night. I'm working hard enough as it is trying to keep up watching, "Ugly Betty," "Gray's Anatomy," and "ER," as it is.
8. An Ipod. Now that's a big, fat, hairy lie. I want one. I want one really badly. They are so neato!
9. Exercise videos. Now ain't it enough for me to tell you that I'm overweight? Now you gotta give me some exercise videos? I'll accept a treadmill, but some Billy Blanks? Perish the thought!
10. Lots of money. Yup. That's another big, fat, hairy lie, too. I'll take money, contributing to my PayPal account, gift certificates, wire transfers, armored trucks... any form of legal tender that will allow me to buy stuff legally.
Labels: Humor, My Writing, Ten Things This Tuesday
If at First You Don't Succeed, Speak, Speak Again
Something's been crossing my mind over the last couple of days. The school campus had a focus on what is liberal and what is conservative. Between that and my having to write an ethics paper (I chose to write against Save Haven Laws), I began to believe that the difference between being liberal and being conservative also may lie on who we push off our opinions.
Yeah, yeah, I know. I really have to work on that. Don't beat me up about it. It's not about me.
You see, I've always been murky about what's conservative and what's liberal. I'm not a political head; I've always voted democratically not necessarily blindly, but always with the notion that deep down inside, I did not want to vote republican. That said, I considered the abortion laws.
Come on, y'all! You know I love you! Just hear me out before you groan and moan.
Thanks.
Maybe I shouldn't say this, but for those who wish to have abortion laws abolished, there is the argument that if a woman did not want the baby, but had to keep it because abortion became illegal, who would keep the unwanted baby? I can't keep it, can any of the right-to-lifers? I'm just wondering if those same people who are picketing could not use their time more wisely by promoting safe sex and abstinence or providing programs that would let well-qualified people (you know what I mean, gone through the rigamarole to adopt a kid) be able to let women bring children to term and take them instead of aborting them.
Is what I may believe strengthened when I can justify it or when others agree with me? Am I that much vehement about my opinion when I can impose my beliefs based on my life onto other people? Does that make me more liberal or more conservative? Does others accepting my opinion make me more liberal or conservative?
Labels: My Opinion, My Writing
Thanksgiving Advice
I wasn't going to even use that quote, but it really matches well with the poem that I wrote. I hope you like it and take the advice given.
Thanksgiving Advice
A day again for giving thanks,
an appreciation day in itself
but may I make a few suggestions
as you overstuff yourself?
Say grace before you begin to eat
and savor each morsel of food.
Let not your heart be troubled.
Keep good spirits and a good mood.
Take a reflective look around
at all who sit at the table.
Appreciate all who are present.
Reflect on who is no longer able.
Place your heart before your tongue.
Pass the love when you pass the sauce.
No complaints this day about your job;
some people wish they had a boss.
Be joyous at this grateful time
and Happy Thanksgiving Day.
Go to bed early and set your clock
for Friday is Shopping Day!
Labels: Humor, My Writing, Poetry
Ten Things This Tuesday
So, how could I possibly make this Tuesday any more thrilling than the other Tuesdays?
I can't. I simply can't do it. All I can do is try.
Ten things you can tell a random stranger only because it's the holidays (only if you want to get punched out):
1. "Try to remember that there are others at the table when you get a fourth serving."
2. "Do they make belts your size?"
3. "A little too much rum in the fruitcake this year, huh..."
4. "Don't forget; WalMart doesn't have layaway this year. You actually have to have the money up front this time."
5. "A little mouthwash can go a long way..."
6. "... but a lot of mouthwash would be best for you."
7. "Hey, baby, I'd like to spread a lot of good cheer all over you!"
8. "Did you put on any exercise equipment on your wish list?"
9. "I think you should."
10. "Don't forget about what the holidays are for, pal. Now give me that Elmo, *&(^#%!"
Labels: Humor, My Writing, Ten Things This Tuesday
The Hours
So, lately I’ve be cognizant of every hour that passes by. I’m not sure if it is because of the number of hours I actually study or if I will soon have to say I am forty-something. I yearn to stretch the period when I can still say I’m forty. When I first turned forty at the beginning of the year, I told people that I didn’t think of it as forty; I thought of it as “twenty-twenty.” It worked for me. And, dad gum it, it still does!
So an hour has transitioned since I’ve written this. I should have been working on my Spanish homework. Now I will be working on my Spanish homework instead of getting dressed for breakfast.
That hour will never return. I see it slip away from me like a fond memory.
Labels: My Opinion, My Writing
Ten Things This Tuesday
- Randolph Bourne
I have nothing for this Tuesday. Nothing at all.
Now I do.
Ten things to do with the Thanksgiving turkey if it is inedible:
1. Use it as a bowling ball.
2. Attach a chain to it and use it to knock people upside the head to wake them up after their tryptophan nap.
3. Flag football. Remove the legs first or things could get really dangerous.
4. Soccer. I'd use steel-toe shoes for one and all.
5. Find out who else in the neighborhood has an inedible turkey; you might have enough for bowling.
6. Set a trend by putting it in a bassinette and calling it your pet turkey.
7. Get two more turkeys, make them inedible, then learn how to juggle.
8. Take the food stuffing or dressing out of it, put batting in it and make it your stuffed turkey.
9. Make it a part of the family. It may be able to do some lighthouse cleaning.
10. Send it to your most hated relatives as a Christmas present like that fruitcake.
Labels: Humor, My Writing, Ten Things This Tuesday
Ten Things This Tuesday
Well, Happy Halloween, people. I just had some bite-size Snickers. I'm scared about what part of my gut the fat will show up at. And speaking of scaring me...
Ten things that I've realized scare me.
1. Taco Bell. I heard that even the meat is hydrated before cooked. What in the world do they do with the tacos?
2. My English professor. He had us sing "Happy Birthday" to Keats. I adore him as a professor, but that was awfully peculiar. I'm beginning to wonder if there may be a Keats cult somewhere on earth. Wouldn't surprise me. Let's face it, if there is a cult on...
3. Charles Manson, who is an awfully scary guy, why not on someone as nice as Keats! They would subversively call it a "society" of some poetic notion, sure, but still... I'm just sayin'... It could happen.
4. Saws. The movies and the instruments. I went to the movies with a few people. They went to see "Saw 3" and I told them that the requirements to see a scary movie were the following: I have to get drunk (top-shelf drunk, thankyouverymuch), a man has to be strong enough to handle my screaming, and I have to have a man sleep with me for the next week. I went to see "Jet Li's Fearless." (I refuse to think that someone was trying to tell me that no man would sleep with me. I'm just sayin, people.)
5. Me naked. Okay, I have to defend myself. I've got purdy legs and a nice jaw line, but in between... well, I'm sure I could make a movie from what's between that would scare the bejeezers out of someone.
6. Masks. Yup, people. Masks can be really creepy. There is a window in my dorm that has a green head in the window, and if you took a really quick look at it, it would scare you, too. I have seen people jump out of their skin seeing it. And yes, women with too much makeup qualifies under this scary thing.
7. Women with too much makeup. No, I'm not being redundant. They scare me just that much.
8. The next month. I can't believe it's November already. I'm afraid of how my classes are going to come together. I've got half a mind to drop a class because I've got a C- in it. I'll have to take something like that again next semester, though, so I might as well get it over with, huh... Fine, I won't drop it, but if my grade gets any lower, I'm blaming all of y'all for it!
9. The fact that there is a guy on this campus that is so darn cute that I'd consider doing the horizontal hustle with him, but I know he is too dang young. My motto is "don't 'date' anyone that is old enough to be my father or young enough to be my son." However, since my mama didn't get pregnant with me until she was 24...
10. Any blond who has brunette eyebrows. I mean what's the point? Bonus scary if their roots are showing. Trifecta bonus if they are male.
Labels: Humor, My Writing, Ten Things This Tuesday