Wednesday, May 27, 2009

minor natural hair update

So, I'm not gonna lie... you might not be able to see my hair growth... but I really like this picture!

Taken on my camera phone, it was a little foggy due to the steam of the shower, but it helped the pic!

I've now had my hair natural since March, and it is growing, so that's always nice. I'm trying to combat my feelings of boredom that I endure frequently...

i.e. I just soaked off my gel overlay (this is nail talk, obviously), and now I think I want to go with pink and whites... I just get bored, that's all.

Anyhow... see the sparkle in my nose? That's my lovely nose ring, in a much better spot than it was 3 years ago, and a much cuter stud (instead of that ball which was not cute). Now this, I'm happy with.

*sigh* What's a frequently bored gal to do?

...tock, tock, tick...

you have no idea what it's like
to wait on you
knowing that i shouldn't dare
trusting a heart
that stays in the region of the unrequited--
you just wouldn't be able to understand
if i even dared
to explain what waiting for you feels like,
so i won't.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

"these are the things I'll never say..."

i can't help

but love every

ounce of who

you are because

you accept every

mistake tear nasty

little word every

smoke induced jump

alcohol caused coma

sweet smile and

bitter complaint my

dear you hold

this girl so

close and you

don't even know.

"damn baby... you fluster me..."

i really hope he can't see my confusion.
it's hard, staring long into him,
knowing how unusually flustered it makes me--
i can't tell if i'm coming or going,
if i'm speaking or rambling nonsensical nothingness
am i actually sharing conversation with him
or just saying "mmmhmmm" to whatever he says?
his thoughts move so much faster than me, it seems,
each one pointed, intelligent, strong,
sexier than the summer fervor
of kisses behind tinted windows.
though, the thought of both makes me want to shield my eyes;
fearful of their betrayal
of my thoughts.

"Saturday night's the loneliest night of the week..."

Actually, it's not. Frankie said so years and years before I was born, but I'm enjoying my Saturday. Just me and the radio and my eyes burning (due to my time spent in the clink, which is happily coming to an end this upcoming week).

I've just spent a couple of hours on Facebook. Chatting. And waiting on things to happen in front of my eyes. It's so much more addictive than it was when I first used it, four years ago. Back then, you just pulled it up constantly, always checking it and always uploading pictures. Now, you just leave it running in the background. Lol. Addictive though it is, I'm still not on a college schedule anymore, and my laptop is never always on like back in the UF days, so I still probably check it every other day. It's serious, but not that serious. But I'm glad to be back on it, and now able to peer into the lives of all my friend peoples :)

My eyes are quite burning... that doesn't look right, but it sounded good in my head, so I'm leaving it. The light next to me isn't doing much.

It has occurred to me lately just how many opportunities God throws at me that I really don't deserve. To have people in my life that still love me and will talk to me like it ain't nothing and will support me when I've treated them like garbage. To love some very special individuals. To have the life I do. There's nothing I could ever do to really truly repay Him, so all I can do is say thank you all the time, constantly.

This post will be coming to an end soon... the eyes, man, the eyes...

I think I feel like writing some "poetry..."

Thursday, May 21, 2009

it will haunt me for the rest of my life...

The elephant.

No, not the pink kind that dances around in a room, while everyone pretends like they can't see it.

The lady that sits next to me in the clink.

She's an elephant because she's one of those people who refuses to, or simply doesn't realize that it is customary to remove yourself from a room when you need to blow your nose.

So she sits next to me, not only coughing, but blowing her nose... in that half-dry kind of nose-blowing that makes it sound like she's... well, an elephant.

I think this noise will haunt me for the rest of my life.

In other news, I'm still trying to figure out what to do with my life. Besides blog, that is. For the first year after college, it seemed okay to just kind of "go-with-the-flow," and actually, I won't lie... that was more like the first few months after I turned 21... oh man, I did a hell of a lot of drinking and hanging out... I definitely enjoyed myself. Not that I will cease drinking and hanging out, but around about December (maybe?), I started to feel that pressure again... that pressure that I needed to figure everything out.

It only got worse as all my friends caught up to me and graduated... I felt like I had little to show for leaving school a year early... I hadn't moved anywhere, hadn't started pursuing any other degrees, hadn't gotten engaged, hadn't found myself in a (lasting) relationship... what had I done, really?

It's in these times that I have to remind myself that everyone's life path is sooooo different for reasons we can't even begin to fathom. Maybe I'm not supposed to be pursuing another degree yet (especially if I don't know what I want to do). It's definitely not time for me to be engaged, married, or expecting any little ones yet, so I can't be upset or feel pressured when I see my friends following this trend. It's hard to avoid putting that pressure on yourself when you see everyone else's lives seeming to take on these trends...

But, you know what, I've learned, which is the most important thing. I could be in Africa right now, saving kids' lives, or over in France, studying some great novel, etc., but if I hadn't learned anything in this past year, it would all be for naught.

I've gotten involved in some great things, I've learned some liquors (lol), I've met some amazing people (including one who will forever have a piece of my heart <3), I've experienced a couple of different job environments and situations that have taught me what I want and what I do not want...

But most of all, I look back at this time last year, and it's almost hard to remember that the experiences from then have been a part of my past year. It almost seems as though I'm remembering myself out of context; like those things really didn't happen last year. It tells me that the person I am today is so different from the chick I was then.

And that will have to stand as my testament to having not wasted a second of my year. I've grown, I've changed, I've seen, I've done, I've smoked, I've drank, I've hung, and I've hung :), I've cried, laughed, and wanted to throw plates. I've remembered why my friends are my friends :), and I've learned that not everyone who's nice is going to be your long-lasting friend. People come into your life for a reason, a season, and some, for a lifetime.

But most of all, I've emerged from this past year with the desire to never, ever, ever waste another second minute hour day of my life again. To always surround myself with funny, intelligent people. To always put my best foot forward. To always be involved in something. To make sure that this time next year (Lord willing), I will have even more to show for the life He has seen fit to grant me.


Wednesday, May 20, 2009

and just like that, it was gone...

One day, I had a bright idea.

I was going to get my tongue pierced.

Why, you may ask?

Maybe it's because I was bored, as I frequently get. I wasn't really ready for another tattoo, am in the process of growing my hair so I couldn't cut it, and I had just cut my fingernails and stripped them of their fingernail polish, again.

So, again surfaced the idea of piercing my tongue, the ultimate of all "I'm a bad ass" moves. (Saying "I'm a bad motherfucker" sounded good in my head, but I wasn't sure how good it would sound in your head... so I stuck with "bad ass.")

So, I got it pierced last Friday. And boy, was I so excited. I thought it would just be so sexy. One, because things that other people can't seem to understand, I find inexplicably hot. Like when I cut my hair, and no one seemed to be able to figure out something so relatively simple. I knew no one would probably understand this move... thereby, making it sexy as shit to me.

I got it pierced... and it didn't hurt that badly, and it didn't swell as badly as I thought. This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, I found myself thinking, not in Bogart's voice, though, only in my own. I mean, how sexy would it be, the combination of the girl who likes to stick her tongue out all the time, and the resulting tongue jewelry? Match made in Heaven, no doubt.

to me, it wasn't that sexy. Granted, I liked it, I thought it was cool, and honestly, I probably didn't give it enough time, as I was informed by various VIPs, but I don't think I would have gotten over the fact that my infamous tongue-sticking-out-of-mouth motion would now forever be impeded by the barbell in my tongue. I'm sure I could have gotten a shorter one, but if I had to live one more second with the bottom of the bar rubbing a sore on my gum, I don't know what I would have done. Not to mention while kissing (with closed-mouth, mind you), I spent so much time concentrating on not hurting myself that I robbed myself of the joy of one of my favorite activities (love-making with the tongue, that is).

I couldn't imagine it... never again would I be able to run the toothbrush straight down my tongue, and never again would I be able to stick food directly on the middle of my tongue without pushing the barbell backward... never again would I be able to spit without having to move the barbell out of the way with my tongue... I'd have to learn how to kiss all over again? I'd never be able to lick a lollipop again?

Okay, so maybe I'm being a bit dramatic. Needless to say, after trying to eat pizza (pizza is not made to be eaten on the side of your mouth, it's meant to be placed in the middle of your mouth), I got a pair of latex gloves, and grabbed the barbell in the picture above, and felt a flush of relief when I felt the ball on the end coming loose.

The residual hole in my tongue is very nice, in the sense that it's neat, and it's quite cute, but I hope that by Friday or Saturday, it's gone like it never existed. It was fun while it lasted, but I missed my tongue and all its notorious glamour.

I still have my nose piercing, after all.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Randoms, North Central Florida Edition

From my former home of three years, Gainesville, Florida, writing you from my friend's bedroom while she blowdries her hair:

  • I don't miss Gainesville, really. It's a lame little town, lol. I do lament over the fact that I didn't do so many things while here. That's why I come back to do things lol.
  • I can't believe that it's been four years to the day (05.17.05) when I graduated from high school, and already I'm a year out of UF. Time isn't slowing down for anyone, especially not me.
  • I'm feeling numerical... I have 2 tattoos, 7 piercings, 3 rings, and 1 very, very big heart.
  • I really need to shower.
  • I've always said I don't like cats... but I think I kind of want one. They are quiet, and speak when necessary. That's kinda cool.
  • I loved The Soloist with Jamie Foxx and Robert Downey, Jr.
  • I love my friends.
  • I love my eccentric little life.
  • I really like you... and you :)

Thursday, May 14, 2009


*Disclaimer* My random thoughts should not be seen to stand as testaments to a life-long condition of opinion... my mood shifts often, my opinions start to waver on certain things as I grow, learn, and gain. They are simply... random.

  • I like ellipses... a lot.
  • "LOL" has transformed from laughing out loud to "smile." Anytime I say it, it's usually just because I'm smiling.
  • Right now, I've fallen out of love with the idea of getting married.
  • I still want my puppy, my bed, couch, and apartment.
  • I'd like my tires to stop being nail magnets.
  • One week and a few days until I get to go back to my kids.
  • When God is with me, who can be against me?
  • I now can type without looking at the keyboard whatsoever.
  • Kissing is my favorite... nothing is more arousing than a great, hot, sexy makeout session.
  • Frank Sinatra is my hero... seriously. There are certain aspects of his life and his swagger (because yes kids, it was a word before Wayne used it, and "ya dig" was actually in existence before Juelz Santana and every other rapper alive used it) that I love love love. And he loved orange... how can I not love a man who loved orange!
  • my nails are starting to bore me... but I don't know what to do with them... I've already cut them, how much shorter can they get?
  • the perfect job for me would be to sit outside on a blanket, underneath a tree, with the air blowing warmly, and read. Read read read read.

Which is what I will do... as soon as I give my hair an oil treatment, finish watching this game, do my laundry... by the time I get to read, it will be time to sleep :( *sigh*

hasta luego!

"such is the story of my life..."

I was reading my book on Frankie Sinatra this morning (I love him... he's literally my idol), and the author was recounting different stories and quotes from Frankie, and one of them once, "this is the story of my life," which has been in my head all day, because I am one of those people to whom interesting events occur, which seem to overlook all others. Hence, when these events occur, I say, "such is the story of my life."

Today was one of these days.

I was at work, when one of my coworkers came up to me and told me that one of my tires looked a little flat. The other day, I noticed this, and then forgot about it, or put it aside to think about other things. I went to look at the tire... it indeed looked a little flat. I was in Lake Mary. It's 20 miles from Lake Mary back home to O-town. My father told me my tire might be flat by the end of the day. It was hours until I got off from work. So, I got permission to leave for a second to go put air in my tires.

I got to the gas station up the street, and someone was using the air machine. So I waited until they moved... and discovered the air machine cost seventy-five cents. I didn't have seventy-five cents. I exclaimed, "shit!" But then, I looked out my window and discovered that the air was still running. I jumped out of the car, only to discover I couldn't get the cap off (my little tire cap). I'm right-handed, so I thought using my right hand would be useful. I used my left hand and it came undone immediately. And immediately, the air machine went off.

Defeat looming over my head, I begrudgingly put the cap back on (still with my left hand), and got back in the car. I drove back to work, and called Roadside Assistance. I was informed that they would arrive in about half-an-hour, near the time of my actual end-of-the-day break. This excited me, and I went back inside the building to get back to work. After I'd sat down for a second, I realized that although the assistant would put my spare tire on my car, this still wouldn't solve the problem of my actual tire. I sighed.

Exactly half-an-hour later, I was outside, getting my spare put on by Roadside Assistance. This was greatly helpful. I'd also received directions from a coworker to the nearest Wal Mart in Lake Mary so I wouldn't have to drive on my spare on I-4 to get back home to go to Wal Mart. As soon as I got off work, I was the second person pulling out the lot, headed to the Wal Mart. I was initially excited to be exploring Lake Mary... until I discovered I was riding parallel to I-4, heading further away from Orlando and closer to Sanford.

Nevertheless, I kept riding. Until I pulled up to the Wal Mart... that was a Sam's Club instead.

So I turned around and headed to I-4... and rode going 75 mph on a spare tire. In the rain, because of course, by this time, it was raining more steadily. I hit traffic at Lee Road, and promptly got off the highway. I started riding deep into my side of town to go to the Wal Mart I was trying to avoid driving all the way toward, and then the sky opened up... and I had to pee, and I was still on a spare.

Eventually, I got to Wal Mart... only to be told that I couldn't get my tire fixed because the nail in it was too close to the side of the tire.

This is probably the fifth nail I've gotten in a tire on my car. The tire that I will now have to replace is also a brand new tire.

Such is the story of my life.

But, story shared, know that there was nothing bad about this day... just recounting this for you makes me smile... if this wasn't the story of my life, believe that my life wouldn't nearly be as interesting :)

The rain has stopped on my side of town, and some of the clouds have cleared... now I can shower all the day's grime off me, and relax in bed with my Frankie Sinatra...

thank the Lord for small miracles :)

Monday, May 11, 2009

it must be hard to date a writer

It must be.

Writing is the one thing I've never been scared to do. For a girl who internalized so so much, and let people say all kinds of stuff to her, and for a girl who pocketed so much anger and resentment and sadness, I've never had a problem putting it on paper. I've given so many fuck you's that I wouldn't have been able to utter otherwise.

But the downside of writing (at least in my life) is that it's so cathartic and it happens so fast, and it feels so good to write the things that piss me off about others... but, the problem is that, when you don't share these things that have upset you with the people that have upset you, and they read it through your writing, I know that shit hurts. I've had the experience, and it incensed me. It literally felt like my body was on fire. Granted, I don't respond well to someone's anger with me/disappointment in me, etc.

Therefore, it must be freakin' hard to date a writer. Or to be a friend of a writer. We can be like loose cannons. I don't like that. I'm going to work on that. I'd prefer not to add to the list of people I've burned with my words on paper (and thank God, either I'm lucky, or they're very nice, because we're all still friends... friendship is an amazing thing!)

in the clink... third week

Log number 875:

I've gotten used to the harsh conditions of the foreign living environment known as "the cubicle."

The stupefying coldness has died down as the days have gone on, and my eyes have grown accustomed to the fluorescent horror of the lighting... my eyes have ceased to burn at the end of the day.

Although fatigue still threatens to send me under at times, I fight the waves of sleep with standing up, frequent trips to the restrooms that smell of bubble gum, and semi-pointless trips to my vehicle.

The "cubicle" mercenaries caught on to the fun my coworkers and I were having in our survival square of cubicles, so they've partially separated us, under the guise of training three of us for new "RIBS." Why they call the test sections that we score "RIBS" I will never be sure.

My body has accustomed to the cubicle-induced oral fixation that caused me frequent sugar shock in the early days. I've started to sneak in grapes and carrots, cookies and fruit bars. I've cut my candy consumption by 98%.

I don't have long left... not counting this week, I have one week and three days left in "the cubicle." Whatever new developments occur in this foreign terrain, I'll make sure to update for you.


Now, if only I could fix my fingers in that cool way they did on Space Trek... that was Space Trek, right? You can tell I don't watch... lol.

i just call it another lesson learned...

don't mix business with pleasure

Okay, now today I was talking about never mixing business with pleasure. This one is simple, and I don't have to go into much detail. Do not sleep with anyone you work with. Do not sleep with anyone you work with. I'm sure you think it's harmless, or maybe you don't care, or maybe you think you all will be cool forever... take it from someone who knows--don't do it. Business will always outlast pleasure, and trust me, you will not want to look at that same dude you thought was so great a year or two later after you've learned all he likes to do is fuck you and sit on the couch. (hey, life's lessons can be tough.) That also being said, you don't want any of your exes/conquests/menfriends/loves to look at each other. It's fine if you know that Joey and Jim are your menfriends from past or present, but you do not want Joey and Jim to be aware of one another.... no, you don't.

So remember business will always outlast pleasure. Trust me on this, please?

Sunday, May 10, 2009

as it comes into focus...

So, I had this great fucking post... and Blogger didn't save it like it said it did... so now I'm very upset. Like, really really upset. Thanks a lot!

*she's pissed*

So, now that I don't feel like trying to recreate the blog that took me like half-an-hour to do in the first place, I guess I'll have to give you the nitty gritty of it all.... fuckin' A man...

--my friend had a grad party last night... and I had such a great time, and I love love love his family... which is rare (meaning it's rare for me to get comfortable and chill with someone's family like that). We took whiskey shots with his dad, his mom made me piña coladas, I talked to his aunt and his hilarious (!) grandmother, we danced to old school music, new school music, and some sexy spanish music, and we had the most delicious guacamole made from scratch... and it's official... in my next life, I want to come back as Spanish-Caribbean (no, it's not politically correct, but it makes sense to me...). As in, like Puerto Rican... I don't feel around my family the way I felt around his...

--it's funny how we are so selfish in life... thinking only about how others make us feel, but never about how we make others feel... in talking to my friend's aunt, I realized just how much I meant to him and how much he had talked about me to his family... and I felt so embarrassed because I simply never realized that I had mattered that much or had such an impact... when she told me, he never had anything negative to say about you, that made me want to crawl away somewhere, because he had all the right in the world to say terrible things about me to his fam, because I did and said some badddd things. That conversation really changed my viewpoint.

--Going along with that, it's funny how we in life will search for people (like "nice guys") to want us and like us and be with us, and in doing that we leave in the dust the men whom have actually, really been there for us, and have really earned our trust for putting up with our bullshit and all the ups and downs in our lives. And in the end, we end up with neither of the two: the indian-giver* of a "nice guy" always decides, conveniently, that when you need him to be there, he just can't do it anymore and he can't be your backbone, and the man you left in the dust has been scooped up by some girl who saw the light in him that you neglected to acknowledge. Funny how these things work.

--We frequently give our trust and love away to men whom we think have earned it with well-placed forehead kisses, kind words, and genuine smiles... and by all means, they are probably deserving of trust. These men aren't enemies, for sure... but we bypass the men whom have really put in the work... those men do the work, and then we give the reward to someone else, who has not earned it. Therefore, it's only fitting that after a while, they discard the gift you've given them. Since they haven't done the work, they can't really appreciate the reward.

--I really missed my friends. I didn't realize how much I missed them, but I really did.

That was pretty much the nitty gritty of what I said. It was said so much better in my other post, but I guess the Blogger gods decided that one was a no-go. I'm still salty about that, but it's okay.

Happy Mother's Day, Happy Sunday, Happy beginning-of-Florida-summer, and I hope you're happy.

*indian-giver: this term speaks to the phenomenon of someone giving something to someone else, and then wanting it back from them. Commonly known from Rugrats fame as, "You can't be a taker-backer!" I've encountered this phrase working with the kids... they like to give away chips and quarters, out of the guise of kindness, and then a few minutes later, want it back. It's like a man giving you his support and guidance and presence, and then wanting it back from you. In the simplicity of childhood, that shit makes you a fucking traitor. I think the kids know what they're talking about.

*EDIT 05/11/09 @ 9:22 pm--I was pretty upset when I wrote this... but as always, further explanation has shown me that maybe the indian-giving wasn't what I thought it was... we are all human after all... *sigh*

Sunday, May 3, 2009

prelude to messy sleep

You know, this blog is really coming along since I so humbly (and unexpectedly) began on that day in January when I was sitting at the front desk, being aggravated by a coworker.

I've now added images from my Flickr (which is also coming along since I so unexpectedly started that sometime in the '08), so feel free to check them out... I really enjoy taking pictures, and my sad little Sony is determined to come along for the ride... poor thing, it almost fell off the Brooklyn Bridge (that one was not my fault), I take it to the beach and get sand all in its private areas (I haven't decided if it's a girl or boy yet), and just today, in my haste, I dropped it on my floor. My floor is tiled. (Ooops... sorry Sony).

Well, in other news, my eyes aren't burning anymore. But tomorrow's Monday. Meaning it's back to the clink for another week... meaning my eyes will be burning until next Saturday. :(

I really miss someone. And I felt like saying that out loud... even if it's to whomever might be reading this. In the amount of time that I've been missing spoken individual, I have never said out loud to anyone, other than my reflection in the mirror, that I miss him.

I miss you.

I really don't want to go to work tomorrow.

I'm plotting my escape from my current address. If anyone in the Orlando area needs a roommate/couch dweller, let me know. (No funny or shady business, mind you. I will thrash you if you try me!)

Despite my serious silence right now, I'm feeling kinda playful (hence the sentence construction).

I really enjoy doing things by myself. So how come everytime I get into one of these "relationships" I stop doing shit by myself? Maybe if I could find the happy medium, you might get a wedding invite from me in a few years here... [don't hold your breath, though.]

I really don't want to go to work. I'm going to be hella tired when I get up tomorrow, not only because I'll know it's time to go someplace I don't want to be, but because I can't sleep for dreaming/thinking all night.

But, complaints aside--I'm alive and healthy. No swine flu for me (and if I have to let go of my daily ham sandwiches, I will. Please note that was sarcasm). I've got someplace to stay. I still have work despite budget cuts. And I live in Florida... aka my paradise. Can't really complain too too much.

[though, I still miss you. and i hope you're reading.]

p.s. I don't like signing my name at the bottom. I don't know why, but it just doesn't feel right. This isn't my journal... it's better... it's my blog. So until I come up with something, I won't sign anything at all. I'll just stop writing like right

what a dif'rence, a [year] makes

This exact time, last year [May 3, 2008], I was walking around my graduation party, in my black, cinched-waist dress and black Nine West heels, and my graduation cap, the center of attention for my family and friends in attendance. I was a UF graduate.

This exact time, this year [May 3, 2009], I've just gotten home from a department meeting, in my turquoise and jeans, sitting silently at the table eating my dinner, pondering what I need to do before waking up tomorrow at six-ish for the beginning of another week. I'm still a UF graduate, just a year later.

And no, don't take the contrast in the two statements for the solemnity with which the second might ring--I just wanted to point out the disparity in years. My mentality is different. My situations are different. I am different.

But the thing that stays the same, from year to year, graduation to meetings, is the same thing that Robert Frost discovered oh-so-long-ago about life--

--it goes on.

Saturday, May 2, 2009


lunch at Hard Rock,
your bedroom,
ice skating in Maitland,
standing on the wall in the park,
holding hands in Lake Baldwin,
a wedding at Honeymoon Island,
drunken debates on Beyoncé as my lesbian crush,
making love over (drunk)
and over (sober)
and over (high) again,
picnics in Delaney Park,
relationship talk while stumbling through the darkness
to ride Dueling Dragons,
getting high after I slipped off
the red Nine West pumps,
the night we met--

and now, one of my first Saturdays
without you.

they are burning

The saddest part of working in a cubicle, I have discovered, is not the risk of blood clotting and the desire to vomit from all the sugar I have to consume in order to stay awake, nor the fact that I'm missing the majority of the day's sunshine while being trapped inside, nor even the fact that I can't even spend my time reading, as my heart desires...

the saddest thing of all is that when I get home, and even on the weekend, as it is right now, I have no earthly desire to look at the computer.

Well, scratch that--I do have a desire, but it sets my eyes on fire (ignore the rhyme, unless it makes you giggle).

My eyes are burning right now. But I troop through the pain, to bring you a blog.

What can I say? Love trumps comfort.

Unless otherwise indicated, all words here are property of Miss Malorie Registered & Protected