Pick a topic.
Shoot yourself.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Boom. (For Nick)
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Boom.
We put our flutes down.
And just like that, Playtime. Is. Over.
I wished on every 11:11 that It would never end. Giddy at the turn of the clock. Two unlikely heroines out on the town! Quipping over countless men, worshipping goddesses who came before, and readin' bitches who ain't us! Toasting our charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and Talents!
But in my dark, I knew enough to know that champagne doesn't keep. The bubbles vanish and the party ends. (Should I have shared my fears with you? Would you have listened?)
We will always be. But this Golden Age is how my heart will keep us.
Forever young. Forever invincible. Forever laughing.
Perhaps champagne is a sometimes joy for a reason? We'll figure that out tomorrow, my dear, together.
We put our flutes down.
And just like that, Playtime. Is. Over.
I wished on every 11:11 that It would never end. Giddy at the turn of the clock. Two unlikely heroines out on the town! Quipping over countless men, worshipping goddesses who came before, and readin' bitches who ain't us! Toasting our charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and Talents!
But in my dark, I knew enough to know that champagne doesn't keep. The bubbles vanish and the party ends. (Should I have shared my fears with you? Would you have listened?)
We will always be. But this Golden Age is how my heart will keep us.
Forever young. Forever invincible. Forever laughing.
Perhaps champagne is a sometimes joy for a reason? We'll figure that out tomorrow, my dear, together.
vic.
vic.
The smell of cigarette smoke brings me back to him.
Marlboro Lights.
We played sports together. All kinds. Basketball, tennis, running. He had as much athletically neurotic, anxious energy to burn as I do.
He would play the lottery and floss with religious regularity.
He judged other people by their penmanship, and never by their cars.
He told me my singing would get me nowhere, and raised me on Phantom and Lea Salonga.
He molested me. Nightly. For years. He snuck into my childhood bedroom and did things to me that I still cannot talk about.
He hurt Me. A lot. And He left.
A camera, a cigarette, and running shoes. That was my father.
Sometimes he is. And sometimes - on better days - he was.
A (Very) Short List of Things I’ve Inherited from My Mother
A (Very) Short List of Things I’ve Inherited from My Mother
a cute and petite stature
an insatiable appetite for new foods and experiences
a razor-sharp, quick wit
an engagement ring
a brazen fearlessness towards "manly" house duties
an unrequited love for books
perfectionist tendencies
a soft spot for all things pickled
an embarrassingly low tolerance for alcohol
the ability to charm men
a well-worn public library card
a notoriously genuine laugh
a (sometimes) threateningly strong work ethic
an oversized panic button
intense detail orientation
the ability to measure the exact amount of water needed for cooking rice with my finger
big teeth
mad kitchen skills
a strong familial bond
willkommen!
I write these "things" and I'm never sure what to do with them. So here we are. Welcome to my collection of wordles.
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