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Showing posts from February, 2015

When The Quiet Gets Too Loud

The woodpecker pauses only for a moment before he decides to drill again into the side of my house. I have been listening to him for the last hour as I lie in my bed. There is  something soothing about his dedicated rhythm and unpredictable rhyme that causes me peace rather than angst while he is pecking the shit out of my siding that desperately needs an upgrade.I have noticed he rarely will do this to my house. He will learn there is nothing nutritious or worthwhile in these walls. He will turn to the trees or the ground pecking away furiously for sustenance on these cold mornings. I knew he would stop soon and the quiet would follow.When I was younger, we used to visit my aunt who had beautiful, big  property. I was always in awe of it as it was a stark contrast to my living experience. We were used to living in apartments or duplexes where secrets were scarce. Even though our neighbors were segregated a thin wall away they were undeniably a part of our lives. When they fought we l…

Opened Up

There is never a clock in exam rooms. Old magazines, resource flyers, anxiety and fear are always abundant but never a clock to wait with you. I think, at times, that the consistent ticking and tocking of the clock would comfort me, soothe me. With each second the hand makes its voyage to become a minute, it would take me on a journey to a calm and collected land. It would help me focus and assuage my fears no matter how silly they may be. It would remind me that life moves forward even when we may be scared of the future. I sat waiting for my provider to turn the handle she had many times before. The handle she had turned time and time again with other patients, to give them wonderful news, to deliver crushing realities, to ask them to bare themselves and pull their butt to the end of the table so she can get inside them in a way we become uncomfortably comfortable with over the years.Maybe the clock in the room would not bring solace but irritation. Tick, tick, ticking away the mome…

Don't Pull Yourself Down

Recently I was told a coworker, a friend, thought my job was boring. Naturally, I was enlightened because so and so told so and so and it made its way to me. That is the amazing thing about gossip, it has no barriers, no fears, there's little to stop it but seemingly it feeds on almost anything. Almost instantly, I became defensive about my position. I was upset and wondered why she would say that to others rather than ever mention it to me...when many times she had expressed genuine interest about my job.Then I realized I was being sucked into a pulling, suffocating, vortex of unknown words, opinions and facts. I had to pull myself back, stop and think for a moment why was I becoming upset by what someone said. Or possibly said.Unfortunately, it is easier to be pulled down then it is to be pulled upwards. There are many factors that make it easier to bring us down including that we are predisposed to believe the worst in people, we tend to believe that once we are down in the dum…

Before I Was Me

Before I could be happy, I was sad. I was in a dark place. I found the light and appreciated it only because I tripped in the darkness many years.Before I was comfortable with myself I gave into the horrible belief I should hate myself until I was the unattainable, boring, model of perfection. I hungered for for thin thighs, big lips, a sexy walk, small waist, and a round ass. I did not realize I would always be hungry for self-acceptance if I tried to follow ideals of beauty manipulated and created by people who did not care about me, know me or love me. I found that I was only satiated once I made peace with who I was. Before I could improve myself and move towards my goals I had to admit I had a problem. I had to scrutinize my reflection and force myself to be honest. I needed to tell myself that I was lazy, eating unhealthy, unhappy and just bask in those truths. Once I could make peace with who I truly was, then I could finally move on. Before I was comfortable being me, I was lo…

Secret Subject Swap: February 6th, 2015

15 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts:Baking In A TornadoStacy Sews and SchoolsThe Bergham’s Life ChroniclesSpatulas on ParadeDinosaur Superhero MommyThe MomisodesClimaxedConfessions of a part-time working momSomeone Else’s GeniusSouthern Belle CharmThe Lieber FamilyEvil Joy SpeaksDisneyland in KentuckySparkly Poetic Weirdo Juicebox ConfessionSit back, grab a cup(of whatever you want to sip no judgement here), and check them all out. My subject is oh my gosh. It was submitted byEvil Joy Speaks.         °            °             °              °"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my gosh, oh my....", her repetitious attempt to take her omnipotent creators' name in vain was cut short by the grief that was racking her body. Silent sobs shook her w…

The Classics

There is a snobbery amongst book readers that I despise in a furious way. One I wish did not exist. One, that if I must be honest in this Sunday Confession, I used to participate in.I, your hippie-always preaching acceptance and tolerance-people loving-give the shirt off her back-has a hard time saying no-the one who refuses to make others feel bad-Sparkly Poetic Weirdo, was a snobby, snickering book judger.I know, I know! How cruel and foolish I was. But I, like many before me, got sucked into this sick elitist mindset that only the classics were cultural and anything else perused and appreciated was most likely trash. Ohh, the time I spent lamenting about the sad choices  my friends made with their books. When they spoke of Nora Roberts and Danielle Steel I shook my head in the most condescending way and asked, but did you read Steinbeck, Dostoyevsky or Rand?Their brows would arch, their scowl would start and confusion would color their face. What did these authors have to do with t…