so here's 6000 words
Friday, March 18, 2016
all my crayons were different colors
I remember a lot.
I remember when times were a little bit simpler yet a little bit more hectic.
I remember my 20+ boyfriends in elementary.
I remember sitting in my room in front of my mirror explaining to myself why I loved the color pink so much.
I remember lunchtime when everyone would give me there pickle cups because I was the only one that liked them. Or pretending that I ate the skin to the kiwis that sometimes replaced the pickles on our trays.
I remember that one girl who loved cats so much she would sit in the corner and hiss until she got what she wanted... once I played with her and she made me drink milk.
My cousin used to hate milk. He would have water on his cereal and I was convinced that he was cool.
I wanted to be picky. I wanted to be picky about tomatoes and onions. I wanted to be pickier than the boys finger in my fourth grade class.
Although, he was cool too.
I remember when he liked me so much that he couldn't figure out a better way to tell me other than kissing my elbow in front of the class.
I also remember when I 'broke up' with him.
Him and his brother pulled out their bee bee guns and chased me out of the house.
You could say he needed a new way to express his feelings.
But I thought he was cool.
I thought she was cool because she shaved her legs at age 7. And her mom was cool because she got in a fight with a lady with braids, and because she didn't let us chew gum in her house.
They were cool because they were in my band. We were the 'Angelz'. Until I wrote the songs and they kicked me out. But that's ok because I saved all the good lyrics for my solo career.
We threw plums at cars, sold overpriced rocks with sap spread on top and mud pots with dried cracks. But it was ok.
Cuz we were cool.
We were as cool as the sprinklers we played in on the above 70 degree day, because if it was below 70 the neighbors couldn't play.
We were as cool as our sledding hills that we named "titanic" and "twilight zone" because they were the scariest.
And they were the scariest until one day the easiest hill made the kitty korner girl slide under the truck and the easiest hill became "danger".
But danger was our forte as we sat in the claustrophobic closet down the hall that was only big enough for two coats, until we made it big enough for our dreams of becoming astronauts.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1, BLAST OFF!
Off went the lights when the bishop told us to conserve energy.
Off went my favorite pregnant tree out of the ground when it got to big and grew its roots to deep into our pipes.
But that was cool because it gave me a story to tell on the bus ride to school.
I had a lot more stories than anyone could guess.
There were the stories I would tell about the town trouble maker who would sit in front of my house and pretend there was string going across the street to make cars stop with a loud screech.
There were the stories I kept a secret about my adventures with jack that just so happened to involve our lips.
There were a lot of those.
There were some when we were two. Some when we were three. And some from then to six. But they stopped when we became to old for the embarrassment when our sisters would spy and tell.
Sometimes I wish they never stopped.
Because now it would be to different to start again.
Because now it's different to express your feelings in an open way. Because now it's different to be picky in food and picky in clothes and picky in nose.
Because now if I told you I wanted to be an astronaut you would be expecting a pretty good report card and research behind that decision.
That's what's different.
That back then we were asked what.
Now we are asked why.
When we were little we could do anything and be anything with no explanation why.
But now I have to explain why I have crayons and why I didn't take my crayons out before and why I took them out the way I did and why I chose this color and why I'm drawing that and why I'm not coloring inside or outside the lines and why I'm taking them out now.
Why?
Because I realized taking my crayons out now is easier than taking my crayons out later.
Later when the question is no longer what and no longer why,
but when?
I remember when times were a little bit simpler yet a little bit more hectic.
I remember my 20+ boyfriends in elementary.
I remember sitting in my room in front of my mirror explaining to myself why I loved the color pink so much.
I remember lunchtime when everyone would give me there pickle cups because I was the only one that liked them. Or pretending that I ate the skin to the kiwis that sometimes replaced the pickles on our trays.
I remember that one girl who loved cats so much she would sit in the corner and hiss until she got what she wanted... once I played with her and she made me drink milk.
My cousin used to hate milk. He would have water on his cereal and I was convinced that he was cool.
I wanted to be picky. I wanted to be picky about tomatoes and onions. I wanted to be pickier than the boys finger in my fourth grade class.
Although, he was cool too.
I remember when he liked me so much that he couldn't figure out a better way to tell me other than kissing my elbow in front of the class.
I also remember when I 'broke up' with him.
Him and his brother pulled out their bee bee guns and chased me out of the house.
You could say he needed a new way to express his feelings.
But I thought he was cool.
I thought she was cool because she shaved her legs at age 7. And her mom was cool because she got in a fight with a lady with braids, and because she didn't let us chew gum in her house.
They were cool because they were in my band. We were the 'Angelz'. Until I wrote the songs and they kicked me out. But that's ok because I saved all the good lyrics for my solo career.
We threw plums at cars, sold overpriced rocks with sap spread on top and mud pots with dried cracks. But it was ok.
Cuz we were cool.
We were as cool as the sprinklers we played in on the above 70 degree day, because if it was below 70 the neighbors couldn't play.
We were as cool as our sledding hills that we named "titanic" and "twilight zone" because they were the scariest.
And they were the scariest until one day the easiest hill made the kitty korner girl slide under the truck and the easiest hill became "danger".
But danger was our forte as we sat in the claustrophobic closet down the hall that was only big enough for two coats, until we made it big enough for our dreams of becoming astronauts.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1, BLAST OFF!
Off went the lights when the bishop told us to conserve energy.
Off went my favorite pregnant tree out of the ground when it got to big and grew its roots to deep into our pipes.
But that was cool because it gave me a story to tell on the bus ride to school.
I had a lot more stories than anyone could guess.
There were the stories I would tell about the town trouble maker who would sit in front of my house and pretend there was string going across the street to make cars stop with a loud screech.
There were the stories I kept a secret about my adventures with jack that just so happened to involve our lips.
There were a lot of those.
There were some when we were two. Some when we were three. And some from then to six. But they stopped when we became to old for the embarrassment when our sisters would spy and tell.
Sometimes I wish they never stopped.
Because now it would be to different to start again.
Because now it's different to express your feelings in an open way. Because now it's different to be picky in food and picky in clothes and picky in nose.
Because now if I told you I wanted to be an astronaut you would be expecting a pretty good report card and research behind that decision.
That's what's different.
That back then we were asked what.
Now we are asked why.
When we were little we could do anything and be anything with no explanation why.
But now I have to explain why I have crayons and why I didn't take my crayons out before and why I took them out the way I did and why I chose this color and why I'm drawing that and why I'm not coloring inside or outside the lines and why I'm taking them out now.
Why?
Because I realized taking my crayons out now is easier than taking my crayons out later.
Later when the question is no longer what and no longer why,
but when?
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
eating salsa and reading your creativity
(do robots eat salsa?)
i finally figured out how to read everyone's blogs. and i think that im going to be doing that for the rest of my life. www.writersparis.com , creative , writers , read , feel content with life.
i think i have mastered the salsa to chip to sour cream ratio. yummy
clicking and scrolling with my right hand and dipping with my left. sounds like this is going to be a good day
.......there is no undo button and that's what is so incredible.
.......They say old love doesn't rust.
Maybe old love is all I want,
to live and to die holding her hand.
.......sometimes you have to taste defeat and then brush your teeth.
dip, lift, crunch.
....... I cant read this line because its yellow.
..........But there are things I see and smell that I haven't stopped to spend time with.
Wheat bread and worn out shoes.
..........If you hate to love or love to hate then that makes you a hater regardless of the fact that you are a lover of hate
dip, lift, crunch.
.......how dare you.
........I'm running out of illnesses to fake to get out of school.
i finally figured out how to read everyone's blogs. and i think that im going to be doing that for the rest of my life. www.writersparis.com , creative , writers , read , feel content with life.
i think i have mastered the salsa to chip to sour cream ratio. yummy
clicking and scrolling with my right hand and dipping with my left. sounds like this is going to be a good day
.......there is no undo button and that's what is so incredible.
.......They say old love doesn't rust.
Maybe old love is all I want,
to live and to die holding her hand.
.......sometimes you have to taste defeat and then brush your teeth.
dip, lift, crunch.
....... I cant read this line because its yellow.
..........But there are things I see and smell that I haven't stopped to spend time with.
Wheat bread and worn out shoes.
..........If you hate to love or love to hate then that makes you a hater regardless of the fact that you are a lover of hate
dip, lift, crunch.
.......how dare you.
........I'm running out of illnesses to fake to get out of school.
Tricking my mom that I'm sick so I don't have to tell her that my heads just too dark and cloudy today.
Lately that's everyday.
I feel like I was born missing a layer of skin
Because every part of me is a little too sensitive.
.......rfelkjsdzmshfjme;cdoaelwkrzhgfbn kndkjfsuoiersdklsj cENRSFKLUDJFOIJAW4UE .. ..............GRFHSDKJBDSDWEOIURYBFHJDLKNEIOWRUGYFHJKBDKSEWOIRHUBFJKDNEWHROIUFGDKBJKEIRUHI. OFGJB;IEKRSFDN;IHKFRHIULKJEHIUEFIJOIJO;IJJIJR
PRETTY MUCH HOW MY BRAIN FEELS RIGHT NOW...
PRETTY MUCH HOW MY BRAIN FEELS RIGHT NOW...
dip, lift, crunch.
.......i have learned that there is so much more to life than simply surviving it.
..........I'm not a robot because if I were, I would be able to tell my heart to shut up and it would listen
............cover your eyes so you cant see anything.
.............Be broke, because you paid for their love.
Be rich, because you have their love.
............no, i'm not a robot.
i'm a miracle
dip, *clank* , *look down*
dang it im out of salsa.
goes to fridge.
frowns.
no salsa left.
closes fridge.
walks away.
wait. hmmmmm
walks back. opens fridge.
smiles
we have whipped cream.
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyznowiknowmyabcsnexttimewontyousingwithmeabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyznowiknowmyabcsnexttimewontyousingwithme.........fluxandflow......salsa......food.......i am aiming for the longest title in the whole world to we are going to see if thus bar cuts me off at 250 characters long.
Longest title in the whole world #different
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)