Hello my lovelies 🙂
I have so enjoyed the season I have spent ‘wordpress blogging’, but I would like to inform you that I have switched to a tumblr account. For all of you lovely followers, please come visit me at:
Will see you again soon!
I had a dream the other night that someone gave me a wooden Crosely record player. The dream was so real, that when I woke up the next morning I actually searched my room for my Crosely and was at a complete loss as to why I could not find it! Much to my dismay, about halfway through my search, it dawned on me that my wooden-gift-of-wonder was only a wish that had been momentarily satisfied in my drowsing state of unconsciousness.
I admit that I felt rather silly that I had just spent 15 minutes searching for something that had only been the figment of my imagination.. Yet I wiped off my embarrassed silliness and went to a local Thrift Store where I searched through the myriads of Record Albums to console my melancholy.
Much to my excitement I was able to find for .73 cents my favorite Tchaikovsky 1812 overture. Don’t you just love Thrift Stores? Of course I won’t be able to play this record for some time, but at least it can sit on my shelf and I can look at it with anticipation.
Well, I am signing off.
Until we meet again my Wooden Crosely.
One of my favorite things to do is brew a cup of earl gray tea and amuse myself with a game of Scrabble. There is something so festive in playing a game with wooden letters – makes me feel like I am intelligent, or I’m some big important person, or something silly like that.
There you are with a random selection of 7 letters and you have to create a word that not only is in the dictionary, but can win you a plethora of points! haaaa…
I have one slight problem though… whenever I play the game, I always seem to come up with imaginary words. It happens to me all the time. There I am with my 7 letters and suddenly a word pops in my head that I could swear exists, but once I lay it out on the board, much to my dismay, my competitors assure me that it is imaginary.
This confirms it. I should have memorized the dictionary after all.
“You can turn off the sun, but I’m still gonna shine” – Jason Mraz
People say I have an ‘old soul’ but, I don’t really know what that means. I almost feel like they are trying to get something from me when they tell me that. They say it means I feel things deeply – and sometimes I wonder if thats why I always seem to get hurt.
My soul does feel old – cracked. Its just so sad when things in life don’t go the way you’ve wished them to go. I know all the excuses; that its a part of growing up, but that doesn’t make any of the pain go away. You still have to keep on living with the pain of regret in your stomach, going on with daily routine knowing it could have been different. Sometimes I don’t know how you just go on living normal life when you’ve experienced the pain of an unfulfilled dream. You can hear as much truth until your head explodes, you can say all the right things and go through all the right motions, but your heart still knows – your heart still feels – your heart still remembers.
If that is what it means to have an old soul then I wish I didn’t have one. I sometimes wish I didn’t feel deeply. I Sometimes wish a lot of things.
People are always saying change is a good thing but what they’re really saying is that something you didn’t want to happen at all… has happened. Some foolish person will probably say that change is a tribute to life – that life keeps moving on and you can never count on it, or something like that. I know that, because thats the sort of thing I’m always saying. But the truth it, I’m heartbroken. I feel as if a part of me has died, and my dog has died all over again and no one can ever make it right.
Life does move on, and it is beautiful how it can teach you things along the way. Maybe one day I’ll learn what it means to have an ‘old soul’. But, for starters, I think I’m going to make myself a cup of tea Earl Grey Tea and snuggle up with a good book..
Goodnight you beautiful, varying world.
“If there is sin against life, it consists… in hoping for another life and in eluding the implacable grandeur of this life.” – Albert Camus
“Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life – well, valuable, but small – and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven’t been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn’t it be the other way around? I don’t really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So good night, dear void.”
The other day I was looking through some of my old art journals and as I was scanning their pages, a torn piece of paper slipped out of the journal and fell onto my lap. The writing was barely discernible, but I found this little poem etched in ink. For awhile I couldn’t remember the inspiration for writing the poem, but I finally remembered: I had been sitting in a crowded coffee shop reading. Out of the blew, in my mind, I had a very vivid and intense picture of a baby still in its mothers womb. I knew the parents had decided to abort the baby, and the baby only had a few more hours to live. This mental picture had a strong effect on me so in the middle of the crowded room, I quickly grabbed a piece of paper and etched down these words. The poem is abrupt and disconnect, but I’m going to keep it in its original form and not mess with it.
Sinking into a blank oblivion
amidst the hum of sub conscience.
Purposeful drifting, trying to forget
the pain of knowing
Knowing you’ve forgotten
Knowing you’ve left me to fight on my own
Knowing you aren’t beside me
Knowing your purposeful neglect.
Consigning yourself to oblivion,
you watch me fall
drop by drop
from memory, forever
omitted from your wide shut eye.
Build me a home in this blackness,
where forgetting comes easy
where time runs in circles,
this darkness where I belong.
Leave me in the numbness of thought
Let me forget the