Tag Archives: anger


My neck’s grown tired of always
holding up all the darkness in my head
but I am accustomed to backstroking
against this current; the absentminded
muscles I’ve developed tell me so.

Once I was a baby,
once I didn’t know the ache of unhappiness
but only the forgettable way my small mouth
formed words no one understood.

When I turned into a woman
my heart went all soot and damp earth.
People made it so. The ones I chose to love in fact.
Each unhinged my ribcage and stuffed it with warm deceit.

I’m a modern day Medusa
stuck staring at unwell-adjusted me,
busy chiseling the corners of my mouth
into the slightest of smiles.


Filed under Writing

Letter to Someone

Dear You



rotten, impossible you


my bones are tired as the

corners of my waterfall mouth.


I scream at walls instead of

your crumpled cardboard promises;

I call on the projectionist to

turn off the lights in your eyes.


If you’d only

remove stone fingers

from flowered ear canals,


If you’d only

uncurl the fists you

shake at nothingness


maybe then you could

reach out long enough to feel

how brittle I’ve become in your wake.




Filed under Writing

this time I felt it –

I dreamt you did it again

that ignorance you stew so well

and like before I held the only lamp

I own in one hand and opened my

mouth wide as a caroler’s I listened to the

heavy revving that came booming from my

own sore throat too tired to even form

words now besides they’re always just vapor

so I held the trophy lamp above my head

and this time my joints didn’t all turn to gelatin

this time there was power in it – meaning

this time I felt it leave my fingertips I counted

every piece of fixture and bulb that scattered

like raindrops across my living room floor only

things didn’t grow dark just brighter so bright

I lost you in all of the lovely profoundness

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Filed under Writing

Something I’m Afraid Of



My grandfather died just before I was to be married. He was sick, very, very sick. I didn’t see him just before he went, but when my mother told me he looked like a different person then, I was glad I only had the memory of a big, burly man to hold on to.

I love(d) my grandfather, as I love the rest of my immediate family; but the truth is, we rarely see each other. As a child, there were more gatherings, more visits, even dinner at someone’s home. Then things faded to holidays, and when I moved out, to nothing. Phone calls are rare now, except to say “Happy Birthday” or “I’m so sorry”; the “necessities”. And then, there’s barely that. At my grandfather’s funeral, the photo collage by the front door included a picture of me on his lap, young and plump. Nothing within the past…ten years or so.

We headed to a cigar bar after, for food and drinks and cigarettes. I’ve quit smoking, but I bummed one from my mother. It felt okay to indulge after the stiffness of the morning. As our shoulders loosened we shared stories. I smiled, laughed, and then I considered how each story I played a part in happened before I ever knew who I was. I was just a child. A silly, moody child that said all the wrong things, still scolded for making mistakes. Every scenario my aunt recounted involved a time she’d been babysitting while my parents were out with friends. She was still calling me “kiddo”. If I saw more of these people in the present, would they realize I hadn’t been frozen in time as a forever-twelve-year-old? The Jack Daniels in my hand and cigarette in my lips wasn’t enough to break the image.

Maybe I’m digging too far into things. Or maybe, just maybe I’m onto something. Now that I am twenty-five, a full-fledged adult with a husband and a house, I realize my part in it all. Communication needs two  outlets to work, and I’ve come to realize mine needs some rewiring. But then, so does the other side’s.

Life is too short; taking nothing for granted; cherish your loved ones; etc., etc. All of this is true. But who takes the initiative? Me, perhaps, since I’m the one considering it all, here. But when you’ve been hurt, do you bother? I’m good at holding grudges. (Not a specialty I am necessarily proud of.) While there is a lot of love in my family, there is also a lot of hurt. Every family can relate to this.

My grandfather died just before I was married. Death happened, mourning happened, recovery began. Several people once close to me – still closest to him – were invited. None came. Fine. This is the hardest of times.

None acknowledged. Not then, not now, will not, likely, ever. I am hurt. Am I selfish? I don’t know. But I will not feel bad for feeling hurt. The time of calling for the “necessities” has come to a solid, grim end. Death happens, we hurt, we heal, life never stops.

So now I slink backward into my hole and think, every day, about whether or not I am right, about what it all means. I don’t even wish to be right, I just want to know why things are how they are. Is this love? If we don’t celebrate our milestones, then how do we define this dynamic? I want reason. I shimmy back and forth between anger and sadness, all the while not doing a damn thing about it. Not speaking out, not making an effort to yell, to ask “how are you?”. For me, now, it’s pointless.

Some who may get a hold of these words may be upset by them. But then, if they are, they’ll only feel that way if they were the ones who ignored the most important day of my life. I’ve never posted something I was afraid of. I didn’t need an audience – a man died, an important man, death shadowed everything, how can one celebrate a new life when one had only just come to an end? But words – so important. One word makes all the difference. Congratulations. Instead, nothing.

There may be some form of love there, but still, we go on in damaged silence.


Filed under Uncategorized, Writing


So I bought this sweet journal today.

Of course I was drawn to the cover. I have many opinions. So many, many opinions.

I was creepin’ around the mall, specifically for a new nose ring since the little tiny ball on the end of my hoop fell out while I was sleeping. I’m convinced it’s in my brain now; I cannot find this damn thing anywhere. So I found the nose ring and some other jewelry (of course), and wandered into another store where I purchased this gem.

Each freshly lined page is flanked with a quote. Here’s one of my favorites:

“What can we know? What are we all? Poor silly half-brained things peering out at the infinite, with the aspirations of angels and the instincts of beasts.” – Arthur Conan Doyle

I’d love if I could get this printed on the back of a tee-shirt and wear it to work every day. Every blank page is encouragement not just to vent, but to make that day’s “definitive conclusion about humanity” (four boxes with four different pictures below them: thumbs up, peace sign, thumbs down, middle finger). I scrawled a few paragraphs down and quickly checked the “middle finger” box. The top of each page reads like this: “WHY PEOPLE ARE LIKE THAT TODAY:”. I won’t share my writings in detail (they aren’t so nice) but I will share my conclusion:

“People suck. Hell is d-bag customers, morons who act like they’ve never been in public before. ‘People are like that today’ to piss me off.”

Don’t worry, the vino has put me back in my happy place. All hostile-ness aside, this journal is probably a good thing. I’ll jot down what annoys me and attempt to turn it around. Why is that person the way they are? Maybe something happened. Who knows what they’re going through? I don’t know them, they don’t know me. Maybe that woman cut me off because her husband is in the hospital and she’s just trying to get to him faster. Does it make it okay? Maybe not, but it might make me feel better to consider this. I’m still working on deciding why customers flail their hands and demand drinks ahead of others because they have a “plane to catch” in an airport, or why they answer my “how are you” with “HEINEKEN”. No really, I’m smiling right now.

Anyway, I suggest this thing to anyone. Let’s try to channel our anger and turn it into something positive. Plus it gives us some awesome blogging material, right?


Filed under Uncategorized, Writing

Daily Prompt: Chill Out

You need to make a major change in your life. Do you make it all at once, cold turkey style, or incrementally?

Well, it depends on what the change is. Some changes can be made all at once, but some take time, too. When I quit smoking a few months back, I went cold turkey. No “weaning” myself off of cigarettes, no patch or gum to help me along the way. I just did it. This isn’t as easy for everyone, and I am very lucky to say I kicked the habit on my own. Other changes, like losing weight, obviously take time. I’m hoping to tone up while I’m busy marathon training, and there’s still three more months of that ahead of me.

If I could make one major change in my life at this moment, it would be the amount of crap I let bother me on a daily basis. I’ve always been sensitive, I’ve always been fairly short-tempered, and in those moments I forget to bite my tongue on the smallest of things, it immediately bothers me after. In the business I work in, this is something that needs to be nipped in the bud ASAP. I deal with jerks on an every day basis, and that isn’t going to change. But I choose to be a bartender (at times it is very rewarding – I meet lots of interesting folks), so I have to deal with it. We can’t sweat the small stuff, right? So what if someone is angry with me because they missed their flight. I know it isn’t my fault, and it’s likely I’ll never have to see them again. So, ah well. It sounds easy, but when you’re so jaded it’s really hard not to complain sometimes. 

I’ve love to say I could make this change cold turkey style – head up, shoulders back, a smile on my face at all times – but that isn’t realistic, for me at least. So, I’ll make this change incrementally. I’m really going to try…wish me luck. Life is too short to spend any time miserable, especially over another’s stupidity. And when I find myself complaining about work outside of work, well then we  have a real problem.


Filed under Uncategorized, Writing