every single thing was as it had been

(http://romantic-date-idea.com/roses-last-longer/)

when I pulled into the driveway

I could already feel you.

 

you followed me

to the front step,

always the same bossy musk

that kept me standing

when I got too starry-eyed

in the city.

 

I slipped the key

into our lock

and paused,

I pressed both palms

against the door

and felt for your heartbeat.

 

when I stepped inside

I walked the path to our kitchen

in the dark

 

every single thing was as it had been.

 

I turned on the light

your grocery list waved hello

from the refrigerator.

 

I put a peace sign

to each temple

and breathed in deep,

some unexpected sweetness.

 

there wasn’t a card

this was your way

 

we’d never used words

to explain the synchronicity

of our bodies.

 

I moved to the coffee table

you must have placed them there

expecting me home

 

the petals were as wrinkled

as my blouse,

the dozen hung their heads

like silent grievers.

 

I sat down

and grieved with them.

 ***

This is my take on today’s Daily Prompt:

You return home to discover a huge flower bouquet waiting for you, no card attached. Who is it from — and why did they send it to you?

 

Daily Prompt: The Heat Is On

Today’s Daily Post:

Do you thrive under pressure or crumble at the thought of it? Does your best stuff surface as the deadline approaches or do you need to iterate, day after day to achieve something you’re proud of? Tell us how you work best.

How I brainstorm at the start of a two week deadline.
(http://group2berwick.wordpress.com/visual-art/)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I was in college, I’d sometimes be up at 4 AM the morning a paper (or even a poem) was due, tapping away furiously at my computer; usually, this is when my best work poured out onto the screen. For some, deadlines are a relief, a “thank goodness I have five days to complete this daunting task” sort of feeling. For others, like myself, it’s a different kind of happiness; it means we can do whatever we want for four days, and on the fifth day we shall write the poem. Or the paper. Or create the PowerPoint, or whatever.

Personally, being given time to brainstorm and piece something together is more like an unnecessary torture. It allows me space to second guess myself, bounce between ideas and obsess over which path to take. With three days to go my mind would be wandering to that glass of wine and that favorite show that’s on, not to hunkering down at my desk and getting shit done. Oh, and froyo. Mmm.

But when there’s only hours to go before my piece is expected to drop into someone’s lap, I work. I can be expected to focus on nothing else except the task at hand, and the pressure of time has allowed only one idea to rise to the surface of my fast-paced brain with no distractions, and no room to question whether or not this was my best idea or not. It’s like an imaginary gun has been held to my head – FINISH NOW, or no more froyo. Ever. Or wine. (I’d write a novel in an hour if I had to.)

How do you work best? 

A tattoo! Or two…or three…

Happy First of December!

I’m pretty excited about today’s Daily Prompt, being that it’s right up my alley!

Daily Prompt: Tattoo….You?

Do you have a tattoo? If so, what’s the story behind your ink? If you don’t have a tattoo, what might you consider getting emblazoned on you skin?

I have quite a few tattoos, and the majority of them do hold some sort of special meaning for me. Only a few – so far – are simply because I love the artwork.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This tree was the first large tattoo I had done, at age 22. I’m not sure where the want of a tree/crows came from, but I wanted it for a very long time. The branches wind onto my collar bone, up onto my shoulder and a little onto my back. People tell me it reminds them of Tim Burton, or Poe; I love them both, so that makes me happy. My tattoo artist completely freehanded this tattoo, and I am so, so happy with the results. He’s a badass.

When I had my Bell Jar tattoo done, I wrote a post regarding the whole “brag” vs. “bray” controversy; while my copy reads brag, I did as much research as I could to find out what the majority thought – and it seems to be a pretty even argument for both sides. In my opinion, either word would work here, and I happen to like brag better. So there. I even think Sylvia may have used both words, perhaps changing her mind at one point and therefore striking up a never-ending controversy. Maybe she even wanted it that way. (And if you haven’t read The Bell Jar already, it’s a beautiful read and I highly recommend it.)

For me, this tattoo is a daily reminder to appreciate every breath in my body. The idea of my heart “bragging” with every beat is beautiful to me.

For me, my zombie girl is a way of revealing – and dealing – with an ugly side of myself. I got this tattoo while I was going through a horrid depression and I wanted a permanent way to remember it. It reminds me that while I was in the darkest of places, I was able to fight my way out. Should I ever be there again (I hope not), I will come back from it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The quill is an easy one: my passion for the written word!

I think these ones make themselves pretty obvious. 🙂

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After the wedding, Joe and I also had a skeleton bride and groom inked on us – complete with our wedding date!

That quote on my back reads “The more we take, the less we become.” (Is this just a shameless way for me to plug more wedding photos? Maybe, maybe not…hehehe….) This was my very first tattoo, at age 19. It’s taken from Sarah McLachlan’s “World On Fire“. I absolutely love her. The song and the video are beautiful.

For me, this quote means the more time we spend relying on others for everything, the less time we spend building character within ourselves. Let’s not be lazy, or greedy, let’s take the initiative because it is so very rewarding.

That sugar skull on my leg down there matches one on the leg of my very best friend. Besides loving sugar skulls, I love her very much. So much so that we decided to ink our flesh with matching designs! (This photo was taken a week before my wedding, at a Color Run 5K. By the end, we’d tye-dyed the shit out of that dress!)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THIS little beauty may just be my favorite. (Don’t mind the Xbox controller in the healed photo.) It’s an illustration from a book I loved as a kid, Scary Stories To Tell in the Dark. This one comes from a short story, “The White Satin Evening Gown“. If you click on that link, you can read the story and check out how dead on my artist is to the illustration. I also recommend doing a quick internet search for other images from the book(s) (there are three volumes, I think), because they all have this same thready, creepy look, and some are really, really out there. I am in love with all of them, and I plan on starting a little leg piece with a few more.

Alright last one, I promise!

I ran my first marathon this past May, and of course I commemorated the event with a tattoo. This has always been my favorite line from Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself, and I thought it fit perfectly.

I do have a few more, but these (most of what I have), mean the most to me. And I’m not finished yet!

Any tattoos/tattoo ideas you’d like to share?

Daily Prompt: How’d You Get In?!

It may be from yesterday, but who cares. Here’s another Daily Prompt!

On the interview show Inside the Actors’ Studio, host James Lipton asks each of his guests the same ten questions. What are your responses?

• What is your favorite word?

I’m honestly not sure, but I tend to say “delightful” a lot. So, let’s go with that.

• What is your least favorite word?

Moist. “Mmm, this cake is so MOIST!” This word should be reserved for rapists and porn stars.

• What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

The unexpected, the macabre, something that brings me to tears. I want to feel what I am reading.

• What turns you off?

Contradiction, misspelled words. Misspelled words, especially in a book I just spent money on, make me sad.

• What is your favorite curse word?

Fuck fuckity fuck! There I said it.

• What sound or noise do you love?

A train, at night, in the distance. Never fails to comfort me, and make me a little sad at the same time. It’s a strange feeling, but I love it.

• What sound or noise do you hate?

A bristle brush against fabric. It makes my teeth ache. Strange, I know.

• What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

Forensics. But Science was never my strong point.

• What profession would you not like to do?

Math teacher. The devil invented Math.

• If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

FUCK! How’d you get in?! Ah well, let’s party.

 

House of Revolving Style

Today’s Prompt:

How important are clothes to you? Describe your style, if you have one, and tell us how appearance impacts how you feel about yourself.

pinkpinkpink

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For a person with self-esteem issues, clothes are very important to me. The right outfit (and some makeup) can make me stand a bit taller, walk a bit faster, and smile a little more.

I change my style, a lot. My hair goes from brunette to red, from medium to pixie short, and one day extensions are thrown in. Depending on my mood, I’m either channeling Molly with a wool fedora and hot pink lipstick or spending the day in a bookstore in a turtleneck and floral skirt. A cute jean jacket and collared shirt make me feel fun and flirty; the skirt and modest long-sleeved shirt make me feel serious and intelligent. It’s amazing, what clothes can do.

Unsure how I’d describe my own style, I turned to the husband.

Me: “Charlie, if I had to describe my style, how would I?”

Charlie: “I don’t know. No idea.”

Me: “Come on, think of something.”

Charlie: “I’m gonna change the channel, OK?” ::goes back to watching television::

Me: “Thanks for the material. I’ll take back that porkroll sandwich I made you!”

Charlie: “It’s not porkroll anyway!” (So it’s turk-roll. Excuse me.)

Love him. ❤

All I’m missin’ is Ducky!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Still unsure how I’d describe my own style, I guess I’d settle on eighties eclectic. Although I consider my style diverse, it seems every outfit I put on somehow reminds Joe of his teen years, and that’s okay with me. I do love the eighties.

Sometimes, though, I like to attempt more of a classic look, with a glam yet gothic edge. This is what I was going for on our wedding day, and I was so happy with the results. I felt beautiful and glamorous.

One of my favorites.

The best friend and I.

Clothing gives me the ability to be a chameleon. I can drape myself in colors and textures that reflect my mood and make me feel powerful.

Constantly revolving my style keeps me excited about me – looking in the mirror each day and seeing the same thing doesn’t gain me any confidence; being whoever I want to at any given moment does.

Daily Prompt: Inside You Were Sinking

Today’s Prompt:

Create a short story, piece of memoir, or epic poem that is 26 sentences long, in which the first sentence begins with “A” and each sentence thereafter begins with the next letter of the alphabet.

Ashes were all that I found, swimming through the corners of our house.

But you were there – bones never make music beneath our feet.

Crawling down the hallways I counted the nails in the floorboards.

Did you hear me, all breath and skin from above?

Exhaling formed a crop-circle of dust just above your head.

From below you called to me, like a siren under water.

Growing up the walls, it shook our foundation.

Heart pounding, I felt for you, eyes shut.

Inside you were sinking.

Jewels of light squeezed in.

Kings and Queens watched us, loose on the mantel.

Loaded with dreams I curled into myself.

Myself, what I’d known, was leaving.

Notches I’d left for you, I remember with shaking hands.

Opening my eyes I watched your words arch over me.

Pressing the walls I felt every syllable.

Quaint as our home, our hearts were quiet with love.

Reaching for you now has never lessened the emptiness.

Silence stays but in this moment I am wrapped in the nothingness of you.

Tracing our past pulls you to the surface, if only for a moment.

Unity, movement upon movement.

Variety is all we have now, a carousel of aging memories.

White is all I can stand, no color to rip me from the view of us.

X-rays of rainstorm lit up our hallway as night fell, and you faded.

Yelling out won’t bring you back to me.

Zig-zags of breeze bring morning in.

Daily Prompt: “Because it’s the halves that halve you in half.”

Take a quote from your favorite movie — there’s the title of your post. Now, write!

I thought I understood it, that I could grasp it, but I didn’t, not really. Only the smudgeness of it; the pink-slippered, all-containered, semi-precious eagerness of it. I didn’t realize it would sometimes be more than whole, that the wholeness was a rather luxurious idea. Because it’s the halves that halve you in half. I didn’t know, don’t know, about the in-between bits; the gory bits of you, and the gory bits of me.

This movie makes my eyes and nose leak every. single. time. Young love, first love, long-distance relationships, this film covers it all. The soundtrack is beautiful, the actors are amazing, the hurt in her voice when she calls just to hear his…just thinking about it gets me choked up. We’ve all been there. After I watched it for the first time, I turned to my best friend as the credits began to roll and found we both had the same look of dumbfoundedness on our faces. We didn’t know whether we should hug or laugh or continue to sit there with wet cheeks. I grabbed us each a tissue and ran upstairs to hug Joe very, very tightly. That’s how worked up this movie got me – still gets me. ::sigh::

There is more to love than that wholeness of it. That wholeness is a stage of love, before it is ripe enough to slice down the middle, to inspect the insides. Those gory bits are what matters most; never perfect, hopefully worth it. Mine are worth it. 

 

❤

Daily Prompt: A Blogging Chameleon

Explain why you chose your blog’s title and what it means to you.

When I first decided to create a blog, I struggled with the title. I think my first idea had something to do with me and my favorite pair of black boots. (I have a serious obsession with boots. I wear them year-round, and when I find a pair I love, I wear them until the soles are falling off.) That didn’t seem to flow. Then I think I tried to go all poetic, intelligent-sounding, some crazy sophisticated oh-wow-she-must-know-what-she’s-talking-about title. I thought the title said it all. 

Then I thought, and thought, and thought some more, and so words&otherthings came to be. It’s simple, isn’t it? This blog is all about the words….and other things, more than the words. It’s the stories behind the words. For me, it was a way of leaving my blog open-ended; there’s no specific theme happening here. I have the freedom to bitch about work, share some poetry, even get all serious if I want to. That’s when I learned it isn’t all about the title. Sure, it plays a role in getting other bloggers to click on that link. For example: Oh My Gawd Just Do What I Say? Now what the hell is that all about? ::click:: Immediately, you’re interested. But what you’ll find even more interesting is Ginger’s sense of humor, her wit, her beautiful way with words. Stuph Blog? Who is this guy and why does he spell “stuff” wrong? ::click:: Because he’s frikkin awesome that’s why! Edward Hotspur? Does this guy think he’s HAWT shit or something? ::click:: Oh wait…HE IS! And these are just a few.

So what does my blog’s title mean to me? It means I can be whatever I feel like being, on any given day. I don’t have to stick to a theme, I can write about whatever I want, whenever I want. I can (try) to be funny, I can cry on my keyboard while I pour my heart out, I can drink too many glasses of wine and bang out a poem at midnight. I’m a blogging chameleon!

What does your blog’s title mean to you? 

A few other Daily Prompt posts:

Daily Prompt–All About Me

http://edwardhotspur.wordpress.com/2013/02/11/how-will-i-know-a-daily-prompt-post/

http://hastywords.wordpress.com/2013/02/11/again/

http://stuphblog.wordpress.com/2013/02/12/why-stuph/

Daily Prompt: All About Me

http://toofulltowrite.wordpress.com/2013/02/12/daily-prompt-all-about-me-the-mostly-true-origin-story-of-toofulltowrite/

http://thecheekydiva.com/2013/02/12/daily-promptall-about-me-did-you-think-id-let-this-one-slip-by/

Daily Prompt: Put the phone down!

Describe your relationship with your phone. Is it your lifeline, a buzzing nuisance, or something in between?

Aw, man…I was really hoping I’d never be asked this question. I know I could avoid today’s prompt, but something inside me is pushing me to confess!

I don’t consider my phone a buzzing nuisance, it isn’t quite my lifeline, but it isn’t something in between either. I think it’s cozied up next to “lifeline”. Does it say something that it’s next to me right now? I’m not expecting any phone calls, yet there it is. I rarely write posts from my phone (with the exception of Early Morning Musings), but I do read other posts, creep around on Facebook, make Twitter posts, and of course text my friends. Once in a while I’ll even talk to someone on the thing! You know, the reason they were invented in the first place! For someone who can barely find their way out of a paper bag, the GPS constantly comes in handy. And the “Local” application is great too; I can find a nearby restaurant, Target, Wawa, etc. complete with reviews and directions.

This little bit of technology is one of the best and worst things that has ever happened to us! It opens us to a whole new world of fast-paced communication; it puts us in touch with one another in a matter of seconds. I feel safe being able to travel with a way to contact someone, anyone. But then there’s texting while driving. Not so good. There’s the customer who won’t look up at me while he tells me his order because he’s busy texting his girlfriend. There’s the person who walks into me because they’re looking down, completely unaware of the REAL world around them. (I find it funny my computer’s dictionary didn’t recognize “texting” as a word. With LOL and OMG now in the Oxford Dictionary, shouldn’t “texting” be somewhere in there?) It’s a blessing and a curse. But I guess that goes for a lot of things. 

So yes, I am a little obsessed with my phone. But I think there’s a time and a place for it. When someone is speaking to me, I like to make eye contact. I think we all should put down the phone more often, and breath in the world around us. We may be missing out on more than we realize.

A Few Other Awesome Daily Prompt Posts:

http://edwardhotspur.wordpress.com/2013/02/05/big-phonale-a-daily-prompt-post/

http://hastywords.wordpress.com/2013/02/05/we-called-each-other-all-summer/

http://stephrogers.com/2013/02/06/daily-prompt-call-me-maybe/#more-280

http://stuphblog.wordpress.com/2013/02/05/daily-prompt-call-me-maybe/

Call Me Maybe, Call Me Surely, Just Don’t Call Me Late For Dinner

http://soyouthinkyoucanthink.wordpress.com/2013/02/05/conversations-with-my-phone/

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.