Lit blog

[LadynStFreknBed]

The extremely sensitive part sounds like me and my other daughter, Hanna. When Katy was born, the doctor didn't say it's a girl. He said, "It's a whopper!"

The nurses took the tiny dress (size 0-3 months) that I had taken to the hospital for my daughter and had a good laugh. There was no way she was fitting into it... nor the 1st size of diapers.

Funny thing is the ob/gyn was convinced that my daughter was going to be small. In delivery, he ordered the nurses to get the NICU ready for her. When she started to emerge, he changed his tune. hehehe

 

[hmmnmm]

So lately I found myself in one of those recurrent crises. You know, when you still feel like thirty or thirty-five, still think like nineteen or twenty. But mirrors arrest you to reality.

Well my wife kept chiding that I looked better and younger with shorter hair, but I always found longer hair more comfortable. So it was yesterday that I was in a mood and looked in a mirror and went into a frenzy. Something. Anything. Grabbed the scissors. Whack here, snip there, reach behind, guess, cut. A few of those... not quite even, but good enough, since I don't go out into the world very often.

Then she gets home. Face lit up with delight when she saw what I'd done. Then she's inspecting my work. Looked in the back, and said I'd missed some - of course - but then said the curliness looked a little 'girlie' which I didn't appreciate, but she has a way of cutting to the heart of matters. Her language is not too purple.

Well she lately happened to get a gig at the Sheriff's department. Dispatching. Officially she's a deputy. She wears a uniform. With pants. And sleek leather belt. A badge.

I couldn't help observe the contrasts after she said the back of my hair looked 'girlie' and looked at her and quipped, 'well you look like a man.'

We laughed, though there was slight presence of uncertainty in the laughter.

Later she attended to my hair so it looks (hopefully) more manly and less girlie. Of course after the uniform comes off and the civilian clothes go on, our union is more traditionally manly and womanly.

But it was a strange moment. Gotta be some story potential in it. Eh? You know, a fun fantasy.

 

[Safe_Bet]

I am laying here in bed waiting for Amy to come home and make me lunch. I feel okay right until I get up and then, the nausea monster bites me right in the ass.

So, while I have been laying here I’ve been thinking about “stuff” and I started to make a list of what I think Love is –

• Holding my hair out of the way when I’m getting sick, even when she is dry heaving along with me.
  
• Getting me crackers at 5:00 am - and encouraging me to eat them in bed
  
• Not committing child-cide when I hear – “Oh, that’s just Mommy puking again”
  
• Not blaming ALL of this on Amy
  
• Kids cleaning their rooms without being asked - so that I wouldn't be tempted to do it.
  
• The worst cook in the world coming home to make me lunch.

Yeah, it’s a pretty self-centered, limited outlook, but hey, it’s what I got for now – and I appreciate every little bit of it.

 

[Safe_Bet]

Have you ever been just sick to death of being sick? WTF is the deal? Morning sickness is suppose to be in the morning. The "rules" say so. Not 3 am. Not in the middle of the freaking afternoon. MORNING, damn it!

I managed to slip out of bed without waking anyone this morning. Spending some quality time - just me and my crackers. I am well into the "I HATE fucking crackers" stage and I need to get this resolved.

Yeah, yeah, yeah - I know - it's life; it's normal; it's to be expected. IT SUCKS! I HATE this part. I don't deal with vomit well. Florence Nightingale I ain't! Thank god Amy and the kids rarely get sick cuz my immediate reaction is to lock them in the bathroom until they get better - with music turned up loud. If I even hear somebody getting sick I start with the symphathy retching.

I actually am looking forward to the "blonde Budda with stretch marks" phase. At least then I won't feel like such a slacker when I take a nap in the afternoon. I'll have something to show for it.

And yes, BTW - I AM dumping all of my shit here on you. Sorry about that, but I need my happy smiles for the girls in my life. Even though I've been up half the night, I'll climb back in bed before the alarm rings and will "wake up" when the kids come in and I will tell them "Gosh, I feel GREAT this morning" and I'll give Am's a great big smooch and tell her "Thanks, hun for making it all better". She likes hearing that (she is SUCH a "guy" sometimes)

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Do you ever have so many thoughts running through your head that you wonder why it doesn't split at the seams? It's the same old paranoid not good enough thing that's reared it's ugly head again and yes I do know where it comes from ... my mother God rest her soul still has a lot to answer for. I wonder if she has had to? ... but I digress I get to thinking perhaps it is me perhaps I am some sort of catalyst that makes things happen because I sure as hell get dumped on pretty frequently too much to be coincidence anyway. I feel so bloody guilty too there are so many of you on here that have such awful medical problems and hardly a moan from you and here's me moaning because my feelings have been hurt. And that's another thing why oh bloody why can't I grow a thick skin and shrug it off and go on my merry way? You would think at my age I would stop being so childish like some kid that's had words yelled at her in the playground. I will be honest with you because I do hurt so easily, even fights with Ron go too damn deep, I have thought of suicide the eternal sleep where nothing can hurt me again. Why haven't I? Mainly because I don't know how pills are no good and if you mess that one up you can still end up going in a horrendous way I've seen it and I am a coward at heart. There is a gun in the loft but it's in pieces and locked away anyway. I have stood by the edge of the motorway and wondered but what about the poor soul driving the car same goes for train drivers. They say folks that talk about it never do it so perhaps I am safe now if safe is what I want. I just want to stop hurting so much.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I told Ron how you came to me when I needed you so badly, not about the suicide thing though it would hurt him too much make him worry, anyway he is grateful to you too just thought you might like to know.

 

[Safe_Bet]

It’s not very pleasant to admit to myself, after a little introspection, that I am inherently a pissy assed bitch. I try to change but my true nature always seems to trump every attempt.

Crying jags over inconsequential things, unnecessary anger over a broken pencil tip or general ill feelings towards those who have only been kind, are just symptoms of a deep-seated meanness.

It’s easy to blame behavior on hormones, the “bad” things that occur or personal & medical issues. The problem is that “easy” doesn’t make it right. I can try not to act in a certain way, but all of it is a “change” from my true self. Sort of my versions of once a cunt, always a cunt; ugly is as ugly does or a bitch by any other name is still a bitch.

In my fucked up mind I must get some enjoyment from being mean and hurtful. I don’t consciously want to be, but it is always there lurking. It pops up its spiteful head whenever anything isn’t as I want. Even when it is, it seeps out in the form of overly sharp humor and biting sarcasm.

I do know that when I’m like that I have a much thicker skin than I do normally. Words and actions that hurt me “she” gets past. I admire that, I just wish “she” wouldn’t take the next step and hit back.

The biggest thing I don’t like about being like that, is that “thick skin” inherently has no sensitivity. Sure it keeps hurt out, but it also won’t let me feel the joy and happiness and goodness and love that is around me. That is a lot to give up in exchange for not being hurt easily. On top of it all, I REALLY don’t like that person. I guess that’s a lie though. If I didn’t like her at some level, I wouldn’t become her so easily.

It is hard work trying not to be who you really are. It’s tiring. It’s SO tempting to just let “She” become “me” all of the time. I have done that before and it isn’t real pretty. At my worst, I was a vile, mean hearted, spiteful person. In a word: hateful. I thought that I had changed and got past that person, but it looks like I haven’t changed all that much.

I know what I need to do now, but I just don't want to do it. Like last time, I need to pull away from the people who have become my friends and not put them in a position that I can lash out at them. They don't deserve to be treated like I am capable of treating them and I don't deserve the shame and heartache associated with doing it. Just wish I could do the same for my family, but they, I'm afraid, are stuck with me.

 

[DocktorWu]

morning

A leaf fell on me this morning during my walk. It was accompanied by a cool wind and it froze me in my tracks as though something important had just happened. I had feelings of loss, a sort of melancholy joy that I carried with me all the way home. As I sat down with a cup of coffee I chalked up the apparition/inspiration as the end of the season. I remembered a thousands things that I associate with autumn and I begin trying to write a poem with the tentative title October. I didn’t care what it would be about or knew where it would go. I just wanted it to feel like the leaf falling, the wind and awareness of it all at a nexus some kind, a witness to something bittersweet. I feel lucky; moments of inspiration are rare for me these days. Now as I alternately sprint and slog through the act of creating this thing I feel its urgent weight.

It’s a good feeling.

 

[Angeline]

Autumn is creeping up on Maine. The landscape, the distant hills I watch from my window, will be technicolor in another week or so. The woods behind my house are full of busy wildlife preparing for the deep freeze that will begin here in November. The crows and squirrels are fat and very active. I saw wild turkeys at the edge of the woods a few days ago and a fox and her kits a day before that. I can't believe that another winter is coming and we're still here. I'm starting to think we'll never leave. We'd hoped to move south this past summer, but the economy has tanked and everything costs more than twice as much as it did a year ago. My meager investments are hanging on, barely, and I wonder how many people will be willing to buy the luxury of my editing time in the coming months. My Terry says, yes, of course we'll move as soon as we can, but here we are still. I'll have been here five years in April. I'm not even sure I mind so much anymore. There's a patient stoic beauty to living up here, as if we're all eroded rocks that weather the seasons, that I don't really want to lose.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

I have a hard time with not loving someone I once did. I can't kill that love, even when the person is cruel as broken bottles at a beach.

My ex lover, who welcomed me with open arms once, who once called me the "new hotness" has just now told me "You are a lying despicable, talentless, worthless piece of garbage — don't ever address any remark to me again. You are completely dead to me. And yes, you are now on mute."

Though I never lied to him. I never once lied to him. As to whether or not I am despicable and talentless, well I suppose that's a matter of opinion.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Thank you for the messages of support. You people are superb human beings.

(You know who you are.)

 

[bluebell]

It’s not very pleasant to admit to myself, after a little introspection, that I am inherently a pissy assed bitch. I try to change but my true nature always seems to trump every attempt.

Crying jags over inconsequential things, unnecessary anger over a broken pencil tip or general ill feelings towards those who have only been kind, are just symptoms of a deep-seated meanness.

It’s easy to blame behavior on hormones, the “bad” things that occur or personal & medical issues. The problem is that “easy” doesn’t make it right. I can try not to act in a certain way, but all of it is a “change” from my true self. Sort of my versions of once a cunt, always a cunt; ugly is as ugly does or a bitch by any other name is still a bitch.

In my fucked up mind I must get some enjoyment from being mean and hurtful. I don’t consciously want to be, but it is always there lurking. It pops up its spiteful head whenever anything isn’t as I want. Even when it is, it seeps out in the form of overly sharp humor and biting sarcasm.

I do know that when I’m like that I have a much thicker skin than I do normally. Words and actions that hurt me “she” gets past. I admire that, I just wish “she” wouldn’t take the next step and hit back.

The biggest thing I don’t like about being like that, is that “thick skin” inherently has no sensitivity. Sure it keeps hurt out, but it also won’t let me feel the joy and happiness and goodness and love that is around me. That is a lot to give up in exchange for not being hurt easily. On top of it all, I REALLY don’t like that person. I guess that’s a lie though. If I didn’t like her at some level, I wouldn’t become her so easily.

It is hard work trying not to be who you really are. It’s tiring. It’s SO tempting to just let “She” become “me” all of the time. I have done that before and it isn’t real pretty. At my worst, I was a vile, mean hearted, spiteful person. In a word: hateful. I thought that I had changed and got past that person, but it looks like I haven’t changed all that much.

I know what I need to do now, but I just don't want to do it. Like last time, I need to pull away from the people who have become my friends and not put them in a position that I can lash out at them. They don't deserve to be treated like I am capable of treating them and I don't deserve the shame and heartache associated with doing it. Just wish I could do the same for my family, but they, I'm afraid, are stuck with me.

I think that's kind of what Nina Gordon was talking about when she wrote the song Seether during her Veruca Salt days.
It's difficult to have revelations like this.

Oh, who am I kidding? It fucking sucks.
You start wearing the Accidentally On-Purpose Villain t-shirt a lot.

 

[WickedEve]

This weekend we celebrated, mildly, one year and one month. I told Hugo that the first year was a milestone, but something about the "and one month" was even more of a milestone. The first year was like a drug. We traveled, staying in penthouse suites. There was gambling, drinking, tattoos, pushing our bdsm limits. But we also grew and became, somewhat, better people. We even had a good amount of sex that first year. Okay, no surprise. The first year brought stress and the best times ever. In the first year, we were no longer alone. We were Eve-go. Or HugEve. Um, we were One.

Now the big first year is done and over with and it's a month later. "Hold still. There's a booger right there just inside your nose. Let me get it." Hugo sticks the tip of his finger inside my nose and I scream like a two-year-old and swat at him. Ah, the familiarity factor.

This week Hugo was at my house three times. Twice he left without spending the night because he was bored and didn't have "a project to work on." He asked my dad about ripping up my kitchen tiles and laying new ones the next time he comes over. Boredom. When did that happen? I guess there's more to do when you're in your own space. Right now it's his house and my house. Not our house -- yet.

When Hugo sleeps with me, I like to spoon with him and place his hand over my breast. Last night he mentioned the shape of nipple. "It's conical. It's always been flat on top." I was surprised that my Hugo knew that minor detail. Of course it made sense, but I thought it was odd that he knew the exact shape of my nipple and I didn't. He was aware of the change. "And one month later" he knows parts of me that I don't know. I just found that interesting. And we did figure out why the change. My nipples were swollen from earlier when we had nipple-pinching sex. Hey, I don't care what kind of sex we have. I was starting to miss it after over a week. Yeah, I'm that sexually needy. But I understand why there's been less. Life is more complicated. We're looking for a house. He's looking for a better job. There is the pressure of making his family and my family into one new family. At least I got my conical nipples before another week went by.

So when he left yesterday evening, I heard giggling through an open window. I kissed him and hugged him and kissed him again. We waved goodbye. We always part like it's our last time together. "Bon voyage! Enjoy your trip home on the Titanic!" After one year and one month, we still say goodbye the way we did in the beginning. I think that's a good thing. When I walked back down my sidewalk toward the house, I took a quick detour and peeked through the window. There were my two girls and their friend, all of them hiding in the giant toybox, giggling. I pressed my face to the screen and squished my nose and made a silly voice, "What are you girls looking at?!" Hanna let me know that she saw the kiss and that she could stand it better if we stopped kissing on the lips. No, thirteen months later, I'm not giving that up.

 

[normal jean]

nevermind

 

[normal jean]

.........

 

[normal jean]

in the grand scheme of things

.....................

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Penny drops god I am so trusting and naive even at my advanced age

 

[DocktorWu]

Viagra For Poets

I’m having a tizzy this morning. I wish there was Viagara for poetic dysfunction. Coffee and my various muses just aren’t getting it done. I took a sick day from work to make some progress on two pieces. Felt well when I sat down to write, at first I split my time between a mediocre third draft of a poem inspired by a Lit members name. A crappy first draft about the end of the world inspired by a sci-fi movie I watched yesterday. After a half hour and one too many cups of coffee I took a break and begin writing the simile exercise I posted.

Then in true insanity I used the simile exercise to create a skeleton for my end of the world poem, which I now wanted to reflect not the sci-fi theme, but the lit members name which I see as an interesting concept to explore. Let me explain the name. It’s like a two word version of the siren mythology and as I turned down that road I had one huge poetic chubby. I was elated, cheers and high fives all around! For a couple of hours I rode the muse and in fair play the muse road me, and now two hours into this inspirational orgy my instinct has inexplicable left me. I still have the will but the chubby is gone. Now I find I am in need of an enhancement. I can imagine the ad: “When the muse alone just can’t get you there” Maybe I didn’t write it fast enough, the muse and I spent a good deal of time in tantric positions that were fun but ultimately did not bring the poem to climax. That is what has brought me to post this desire for poetic Viagra. I need one of those rare but welcome 4-hour poetry erections that they warn you about at the end of commercial. I’d put up with the inevitable friction burn and I’m sure the muse would deal with a bit of soreness so that we can get a decent draft of this insane poem.

Since I’m creating poetry Viagra why not create poetry lube also? No need for any discomfit at all.

addendum:

Almost 7 hours later I have finished a first draft. Poetry is indeed a cruel mistress.

 

[Maria2394]

..............

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Feel free lol I have never been worshipped by a tree frog before well not that I know of although I have come across a toad or two

 

[RhymeFairy]

Good Eve my friends ... I've been looking through the threads for a good 45 min. I cannnnooootttt find the " Perfect 10 " thread. I thought I had saved it to my subscribed threads. I used to have so much fun with it. I can't find it and it's driving me nuts. Anyone save it??

Bump it please ~~~~

 

[Maria2394]

.......................

 

[normal jean]

My daughter and I went shopping Sunday for a mate for Darwin. We found a suitable female zebra finch and K. named her Isabella. She has a deeper voice than Darwin and darker feathers and they didn't kill one another yet, so I think they will be fine together. Can't wait till we get baby finches!

as hubby and I sat out front this evening, a white cat came up and acted as if he lives here. He has a voice like my Nicky and laid at my feet and rubbed his face all over my toes. K. let him in a while ago and he hopped up and got on my lap and closed his eyes and went to sleep.

This beautiful white cat is not a stray. He is well fed and has a soft, well brushed and petted coat. He is loved. I tried to tell K. that it is not my sweet Nicky come back. He wouldn't be solid white, having been a tabby in his last 4 incarnations, would he? I could love this cat, but it hurts me to think that someone would lose a beloved pet. I put him out and told him to go home. He is still on the porch, meowing at the door.

I have read about some of you having such a bad day. well, I wish I could make it better, remember, any day above ground is a good day.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Cats chose their own people

 

[Angeline]

And now for my next trick....

My daughter and I went shopping Sunday for a mate for Darwin. We found a suitable female zebra finch and K. named her Isabella. She has a deeper voice than Darwin and darker feathers and they didn't kill one another yet, so I think they will be fine together. Can't wait till we get baby finches!

as hubby and I sat out front this evening, a white cat came up and acted as if he lives here. He has a voice like my Nicky and laid at my feet and rubbed his face all over my toes. K. let him in a while ago and he hopped up and got on my lap and closed his eyes and went to sleep.

This beautiful white cat is not a stray. He is well fed and has a soft, well brushed and petted coat. He is loved. I tried to tell K. that it is not my sweet Nicky come back. He wouldn't be solid white, having been a tabby in his last 4 incarnations, would he? I could love this cat, but it hurts me to think that someone would lose a beloved pet. I put him out and told him to go home. He is still on the porch, meowing at the door.

I have read about some of you having such a bad day. well, I wish I could make it better, remember, any day above ground is a good day.

I'll talk to the squirrels. Well one squirrel. Remember when we had that conversation about what sounds squirrels make? I said I wasn't even sure what they do because I've only known city squirrels who hang around Burger Kings. Well that is no longer true. There was a fat little fellow (or girl, who knows?) who sat right outside my window this morning as I was having my morning coffee. He was chucking and clucking madly, so I said "what's the matter little squirrel?" I swear he put his little face right by the screen and looked at me and said, "chuck chuck chuck chuck chuck." And the song from West Side Story popped into my head, so I sang "Have you met my good friend, Maria?" to him and he chucked and clucked right along with me! I couldn't believe he was doing it and I called eagleyez, who was in the living room, to come see. He came in and we both watched the squirrel watch us. I said "What's he trying to tell us?" and ee said "He's saying he's pissed he has to spend another Maine winter in this damn old barn." (Our apartment is on the second floor of what was originally a barn.) I know just how he feels, and apparently so does my boyfriend.

Or maybe he was just telling me to tell you hello.