Sunday, October 24, 2010

Everglades adventure, part II

Oh yeah, interesting indeed.

So, we're rowing our canoe out in the bay, and I'm pretty jazzed because I am rowing a canoe (something that I have never done before, ever), and my partner and I are moving along pretty swiftly. There was a solid breeze at our backs, which helped move us with the slight waves. The part of the bay closest to the shore was extremely shallow, and there were parts of the water that were comprised mainly of grasses, which caused our canoe to slow down as we had to push off the shallow ground.

The sun was out, the breeze felt nice, and I was guiding a canoe in the Everglades. I could see it now, me telling him about how I rowed a canoe, and him thinking it was hot. (You know, men like when women do things that are slightly masculine, like watching a football game and actually being into it, and women like when men do things that are slightly feminine, like making conversation about things that aren't necessarily critical to life, like an opinion on a dress. Shrug.) I couldn't wait to call my family and tell them that I rowed a canoe. I just knew this was going to be the most victorious experience of my life.

(mind you, we were set to row THREE miles to dock at a key, and we'd probably traveled all of half of .1 of a mile at this point when victorious thoughts started settling in.)

We'd almost made it past this island of trees that was to the left of a canal, and as we were approaching the end of the tree island, we noticed the thickening clouds back toward the shore. The sun was gone, and the wind was whipping around. It looked and smelled like a storm, even though there was only a 20% chance of rain. The decision was made that we should all turn around and start heading back to the marina. At this point, a few thoughts ran through my mind:
  • I thought of The Notebook. Yes, I was rowing with my coworker, not a frustrated love interest, but the way the sky clouded over, and the possibility that we could get rained on while in our canoe made me think of the movie. Don't ask.
  • I remembered another member of our canoeing party saying that canoeing back would be harder because we would be going against the wind.
  • Would we make it back before it stormed?

With these thoughts running through my mind, we turned around and started heading back toward the marina. The other two people we were canoeing with seemed to be making good ground, as we struggled in our canoe. My coworker and I were rowing as hard as we could, but with the wind and the waves, we were being pushed out into the open water away from the shore. Not only was it frightening as hell to be in the middle of a humongous bay, but there were extremely large sections of the water that were made up of the grasses floating under the water, which pretty much inhibit movement. As our canoeing partners seemed to get farther away from us, we were turned around by the wind, which left us facing the direction opposite of that which were trying to go. We kept rowing and ended up getting stuck in the other set of grasses, the one that came with shallow ground. The wind was kicking, and as my coworker said she didn't know what to do, the thought finally surfaced in my head that I had no clue as to what to do either, and that I had no experience whatsoever, besides watching Man v. Wild on the Discovery Channel. What would Bear Grylls do?

We sat there for a second in a bit of a silent panic. A few thoughts ran through my head:

  • Slave ships. Might seem strange, or even flippant, but during my short-lived rowing victory, I thought of the oft-used cartoon image of a ship of slaves having to row to the drum beat. During the victory, I thought, hey, rowing's not so bad clearly because I wasn't a slave rowing a boat, but a idealistic tourist and during my moment of quiet panic, I thought, this shit is hard.
  • What if we actually get stuck out here?
  • Did the other two make it back to the marina? Will they send someone for us?

As we tried to row again, the wind continued to push us aside, so we allowed ourselves to be pushed toward some trees, and then we stopped and pondered our options. My coworker decided to try getting out and pulling the canoe through the muck we were sitting in. Unfortunately, the muck was like quicksand, and we didn't get very far with this idea. You know when you're at the beach, burying your feet in the sand, and the tide washes over your feet? You know how it feels when the water gets down in the sand, and your feet get buried further? I imagine that's what it felt like. I didn't dare step out of that canoe; I was so terrified of what could be lurking in the muck. My coworker fell over in the muck, and we decided that pulling the boat wasn't an option.

We sat there, both silently scared, until we tried heading back out into open water again. When we got out as far as we could, we saw that our other canoeing buddies hadn't made it anywhere either. Relief crashed within me as I realized that we weren't alone. We all decided to pull over and dock our canoes in the muck until the breeze slowed considerably. At this point, it decided to rain. I sat there, life jacket firmly strapped to me (even though the canoe was stationary), legs and knees stiff as a board (canoes are not made for tall people), being rained on in the Everglades.

We all started to laugh uncontrollably.

We talked about being stranded, about how we should collect rain water so we'd have something to drink on day 35; I joked that it was ridiculous that my last meal might just be the ham sandwich I packed for lunch. One of our canoe buddies tried to step out of the canoe and her leg promptly sank about a foot in the muck, and we erupted into giggles. I snapped pictures of her muck-covered leg; of my coworker in the back of the canoe. We joked about Gilligan's Island, and about why the lady at the desk didn't question our experience before renting a canoe to us.

The laughs poured forth, because I think we all realized that we were only probably .3 miles away from where we started (and that number is probably 3 times reality), and because so many things were going wrong, that there wasn't much else to do but laugh.

At some point during our laughter session, the sun came back out, and the wind tapered off a bit. We decided to head out again, this time determined that we would make it back. My coworker and I got into a good stride, and made great progress across the waves, now shining a murky, minty green from the sunlight above.

We made it past the island of trees when the wind picked up again, though the sun remained out. The wind grew too strong for us to combat, and when it pushed us against a shoreline of muck that smelled like boiled eggs and poop, we decided that we had had enough. Right near a campground, we got out of the boat and tied it to a picnic table and decided we would walk the rest of the way back. It was at this time that my shoe broke (it was already on its way out, but the fact that it decided to break right then was hilarious to both of us), and a wave of people emerged from a path, on a nature hike.

The fact that we had gone from panic and fear of being lost at sea under a stormy sky to seeing 30 or so people emerge on a nature hike not far from where we thought we'd be lost forever was too much for us, and we laughed, and laughed, and laughed, as we all left our canoes anchored and walked back to the marina, to let them know that they would have to get the canoes for us; we'd had enough.

So, as I sit here today, with a neck that feels like I have whiplash and hands that ache like someone punched my palms repeatedly, I know I will always have a special bond with the Everglades, even though it wasn't quite the place I imagined it to be.

Not everyone can say that they were almost lost at sea and live to tell the tale.

My adventure in the Everglades, part I

Good morning, good folk. I'm writing to you with a sore-ass neck, and with a headache because when I walked into my kitchen this morning there were fucking alcoholic beverage bottles everywhere and the trash was full but not taken out because I live with people who don't care whether something is clean or dirty and if I didn't love my hair so much right now I'd pull that shit right out and drop it on them in their sleep in revenge.. (Pray for me.)

Sometime last week, the idea was proposed by a coworker that we should all head to the Everglades, and rent a canoe, or something along those lines. I immediately said yes, even though I was chilling at home with my family and not even trying to think about anything that would happen after my arrival back in South Florida.

Now, if you don't know anything about the Everglades, here's a little info for you:

The Everglades are subtropical wetlands in the southern portion of the U.S. state of Florida, comprising the southern half of a large watershed. The system begins near Orlando with the Kissimmee River, which discharges into the vast but shallow Lake Okeechobee. Water leaving the lake in the wet season forms a slow-moving river 60 miles (97 km) wide and over 100 miles (160 km) long, flowing southward across a limestone shelf to Florida Bay at the southern end of the state. The Everglades are shaped by water and fire, experiencing frequent flooding in the wet season and drought in the dry season. Writer Marjory Stoneman Douglas popularized the term "River of Grass" to describe the sawgrass marshes, part of a complex system of interdependent ecosystems that include cypress swamps, the estuarine mangrove forests of the Ten Thousand Islands, tropical hardwood hammocks, pine rockland, and the marine environment of Florida Bay. (http://www.wikipedia.org/)

I have wanted to go to the Everglades for a while now. It was a desire that had been on my radar for a while, along with things like going to Mallory Square in Key West and getting a puppy. Living in South Florida, I now don't have the excuse of distance preventing me from being able to go. So, without second thought, I agreed to the adventure.

I admittedly didn't know much about the Everglades. I knew about the forests of mangroves, and about all the water, but I formed my view of the Everglades based on what I'd imagined from stories like Their Eyes Were Watching God. I think in my head, my vision of the Everglades resembled a massive lake, with alligators close enough for you to touch (though you definitely wouldn't touch) and crooked trees covering most of the landscape.

When we arrived yesterday at the mouth of the national park, I wasn't very impressed. And that's probably because my expectations were formed based on my imagination (and because every square inch of the Everglades isn't necessarily similar). And you should know by now that my imagination is wild.
We drove the 38 miles from the mouth of the national park, to Flamingo, where Florida Bay is located, and where we would embark upon our canoeing adventure. As we drove through, we encountered plenty of sawgrass and birds, but no panthers or gators crawling out of the wilderness. We passed many different ponds and places named in the Native American fashion. (That's one of many things I love about Florida; most of the cities and lakes, etc. have Native American names.)

When we arrived in Flamingo, we were told that we had the option of taking our canoes down the canal, or that we could head out in the bay, and head toward one of the many keys, where there was a little beach located. It was decided that we would head out in the bay.

At this point, not even the least bit of hesitation or fear had kicked in, which is unnatural for me. This is the same girl who told you that she can't walk into the ocean without looking down, and the same girl who swam in the springs for approximately .2 seconds before swimming back because I was scared. (Don't judge me.)

In fact, I don't think it kicked in until a while later that I was getting ready to paddle a canoe (having had no experience) into the vast, open water of the Everglades (you know, where all those animals from my imagination actually do live, even if you don't see them all at once). But, I had nothing to worry about. Though it had been cloudy on our drive through the park, when we arrived in Flamingo, the sun was out and shining on the water, giving it that pretty look of diamonds bobbing in the tide.

The boat guy pulled the canoe onto the dock, and my coworker stepped in, and I held on for dear life as I stepped into the front of the canoe. When I heavily stepped into the boat, it hit me for the first time that I was sitting in a boat, on top of water, and that if it turned over, I was going into the water with it. Despite that second of panic, we were both in the canoe, and we started to paddle out into the bay.

This is where things got interesting.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

unable to convey

i sit here in the shirt i made you give me

and my eyes are so heavy from the tears

i can't even finish this sentence.



time is moving way too fast
for me.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Things I don't fucking get, part II

Editing note: I am now posting this at least a couple of days after I initially wrote it, so I don't even feel the same about it anymore, but it was definitely at its funniest when I was sitting in my car, eating my lunch on a cloudy day.
-M

-------------------------------------------------
Part two of Things I don't fucking get. Not going to lie, I am writing this after having had an amazing evening with some great coworkers, and someone I really respect, so my sarcastic edge might not be the same as it was this afternoon during the frustration of work, but I'm going to give it all I got.

11. My simultaneous love/dislike of my womanlike1

I'm 23 now. When I was 17, I was slim. I'm still slim, but I was slimmer. My thighs were barely enough to speak of, and my breasts were petite handfuls. My booty had sprouted enough to spark conversation from those who had nothing better to talk about (i.e. little boys thinking they were men), but I definitely wouldn't have considered my body womanlike, not at all. Looking back at pictures, I definitely wouldn't consider it womanlike.

Like I said, I'm still slim, but the womanlike has definitely made its arrival. My thighs are definitely soft--not like a tub of lard2 soft, but like a firm pillow soft, and my breasts are thicker handfuls these days that bounce when I'm walking at a fast pace. My booty is now my ass, my ass that I can feel moving up and down as I walk. Occasionally, I'll take a glance when I'm walking out of my bathroom at all the mass that now belongs to me. Sometimes, I think it's sexy. Really sexy. Like when I'm throwing it back on him--yeah, I said it--or when I'm walking naked around in my room. It feels powerful, sometimes.

And then, there are other times when I am self-conscious. Like when he's running his hand down my stomach, and I worry about whether he'll be turned off by the softness. Or when I saw that picture of me from one of the first events I went to in Miami, and immediately thought damn, that's how big my legs look when I sit down? I love these moments of powerful embrace much more than the moments of oh my God, that's me much, much more. Especially since I'm still definitely in the category of slim.

12. Still wanting to have a baby after working with kids for 5 years

Well, in looking at this list, I realize that I do really get why, and I'm going to spare you all the details of why. I was just being snarky when making my lunchtime list and yelling at myself for being so damned honed in to my maternal instincts that my breasts practically lactate when he lays his head on my lap. #Justsaying

13. Why people see email as a representation of yourself (i.e. need to use proper grammar, etc.) but not texts

I am a proper texter. I hve nvr txted ne1 a msg tht looks lke this. I judge people when they send me a message that looks like that. (Thankfully, 99% of the people I text never send messages like that.) I just don't understand. If you wouldn't send an email that looks like you were typing with one hand while trying to fight off a bear with the other3, then why would you send a text like that? Just because it's immediate doesn't mean it should be stupid-looking. (Maybe people really do email like that, and I'm just blissfully unaware.)

14. Why people can't fucking write

You can blame it on my bias because I am a writer, but I really take offense when people can't write. And I don't mean, when your handwriting isn't up to par. But I mean when people are asked to write something to be seen by others (in most cases, by many others), and it reads like shit. Incorrect punctuation, terrible grammar, missing words, ADD of writing style... it really pisses me off. I understand that writing isn't everyone's thing, but if you are writing something that you know is going to be read by at least ONE other person, I would think that you would take the effort to make sure it is up to par. Clearly having never learned the rules of writing is one thing, but appearing as though you didn't give a shit and just excreted all over the paper is another.

15. Why I chew on ice when I'm always cold

*sings* I get it from my momma. Next.

16. Why things operate the way they do

Oh yeah, I was definitely on it at lunch time. Just spewing shit on to the paper as I held on to my hamburger in the other. I generally spend a lot of time wondering why things operate in the manner they do. Why do schools operate the way they do? Why are kids taught for the FCAT and not for anything else? Why do teachers make shit so boring? Why don't people care more? Why do we have to work for money and not for the passion of what your job entails? Why does cash rule everything around me? Why are kids so angry?

I could go on and on, but I spend a lot of time pondering these things.

17. Why schools are built on tons of land but barely use a third of it

On my way home from lunch, I saw a school yard with so much grass; so much space... you could have a small circus on the amount of land that was being unused. The school I work at is the same. I'm sure they probably have at least an acre--keep in mind, I have never physically measured an acre, and probably don't know what an acre looks like, but I know it's a lot of land--of land, and they barely use it. Children should have the experience of running through the grass, being silly and enjoying themselves... especially if they have plenty of grass with which to make this happen.

18. Why people bitch about unfixable things

I don't like to say things are unfixable... but, some things are. Some things are out of your control, and that's a fact that is good to know. Can I fix the fact that I tried to think of something really clever to say but was ultimately unsatisfied with my effort so decided to write this sentence instead? possibly, if I just sit here for a long time and keep thinkingProbably not. Does it help for me to sit here and bitch about it, or just keep writing? Exactly. Bitching without plan or ability to fix is simply complaining.

19. Why people ask people to do shit when the latter group of people have to do shit

My father actually brought this to my attention, during one such day when I was actually holding a hamburger from the same place, sitting in the parking lot, considering the status of my lifewhen we were having a chat. He said that an old boss told him to never ask people to do you a favor when it was something they had to do. I had never considered this before. I'm sure I have vocalized something in that way... it just seems lighter than telling someone that they have to do something, but in my current role as a supervisor, this is something I have to give significant thought to. I'm glad my dad dropped that nugget on me. I will make sure to not ask anyone to do me a favor if it's not actually a favor. Hell, it's hard enough to get people to do things when they are mandatory, let alone when they are favors.

20. Why I like kids better than adults

No need for thought here. I get this shit. Kids are cool. Adults frequently are not.



1womanlike is a term that's really not a term at all, but something that he said to me one time when we were hanging out... he said that I was "getting all womanlike," and the term stuck (with me).
2is lard even soft? I've never touched it to see.
3don't ask. I don't even know where I was going with that.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Things I don't fucking get: 10.12.10 (part I)


As I sat in my car, eating lunch by myself, not wanting to drive back to work; in fact, hoping that some black hole in the ground would open up, thus sending me into some technical mixup in the space-time continuum1, thus restricting my ability to go back to work, therefore actually sending me back to the beginning of my weekend, so I could relive it all over again, Maxwell's "This Woman's Work" came on. I sat there, a little irritated after having gone from real jazz2 to "This Woman's Work," and I started to attempt to enjoy the song, until I realized... I don't like this song.

Granted, I know the song is a cover, and no, I've never heard the original. But I do know that I do not like the Maxwell3 version. In fact, I don't even know what the fuck the song is about. And every time the song comes on, I can feel my brain searching for an answer. Why is he singing in falsetto the whole time? Why does she only have a little life in her yet? Why should he be crying but not letting it show? I even started to excuse my dislike, blaming it on the lack of my used-to-be habit of looking up all song lyrics and reading through them while the song is playing.4 But I allowed my dislike to fester, and thus came up with a long list of things I don't fucking get, all VSB style. At length, I will continue.

2. Why I don't carry a pen in my pocket

I'm a writer. I write all the time. I came up with this list while I was sitting in my car eating lunch. I felt myself up searching for a pen, until I realized I'd left it at my job. Frantically I went through the different hiding places in my car, until I found one that I'd left in the passenger-side console... specifically because at some point in the past, I knew that I would be looking for a pen and would need one.

3. People thinking bad ass kids are funny/cute

There ain't shit funny about a bad ass kid. There's nothing remotely cute about a bad ass kid. I have heard some of everything from kids, from them talking about how they are going to cuss someone out, to them actually cussing, to them showing out somewhere public. And I have never understood why people in these situations (often parents/caregivers/other supposedly lucid adults) smile, or laugh, or say some inane shit like that's my baby, when I'm standing in the corner, feeling spontaneous combustion inevitable.

4. Why bullying doesn't have more effective policies

I understand that teachers/caregivers/supposedly lucid adults can't be everywhere at once. I can't walk home with the kids I work with; I don't get to see what goes on in their houses; in their neighborhoods. I am not their teacher; not a police officer; not their parent. But why does it seem that everyone has relinquished control to some invisible person(s)? Kids tell teachers that they are being bullied or that things are going on, teachers tell counselors, counselors tell administration, parents tell police, kids tell afterschool staff, kids tell each other... I mean, there are so many people that get told about bullying, but who actually does anything about it? I mean, I can't do anything about it, because my solution is to beat a kid's ass. Back in the day when my mom was growing up, anyone had the right to beat your ass. And that was because everyone had your best interests at hand. And now, no one has the right to beat your ass (it seems, not even your parents), and it seems no one has your best interests at hand. I think society needs to bring that back. The beating of the ass seemed to keep kids in line. Now, kids fear no one, especially not adults, and they are bullying/beating the shit out of each other.

5. Why adults allow kids to call them by their first name with no respectful appellation

If a child ever approaches me and calls me by my first name, I give them one of my classic stares, and correct them. It's Miss Malorie, or nothing. In fact, the kids I worked with formerly said it so often that I started calling myself that. I enjoy being called "Miss." It's a sign of respect, rather than a stranger saying hey, you! or a child calling me by my first name. I know some Northern people or strange women feel as though being called "Miss" is disrespectful (hence why I don't fucking get it), but with kids this should be the exception, never the rule. It starts small, and the reason why kids don't fear adults is because they haven't learned to respect them. If I would have ever called an adult by their first name when I was a kid, I'm certain my mother would have morphed into the Hulk and eaten me. I'm pretty sure of it. But now, I hear kids all the time referring to people on my job by their first name... and the people being called by their first name have no problem with it. Shaking.my.head.

6. Any of the "Real Housewives of..." shows

Don't get me wrong... I have been waiting for the Real Housewives of Atlanta to come back to tv. In what I'm sure was a regular season of television, I became so scared of the fact that RHoA might not come back to tv that I started to contemplate writing a letter to Bravo5... or simply asking other people if they knew when it would come back on tv.6 Well, it has come back to tv, and I don't know what happened between this season and last season, but maybe I've just gotten older... but their drama is so... stupid.

Maybe it was my personal drama from last year of having to deal with a crazy bitchfriendperson, but when I sat down to watch the first episode of the season (last Monday), I realized that they were all crazy. NeNe is as fickle as she claims Kim to be, as ghetto as she accused Kandi of being, and she spreads her business all over the place; Kim has been "chasing dick since [she] came out the womb" and now thinks she bisexual7; Kandi doesn't actually bother me that much anymore, though she's lumped in with everyone else, unfortunately; Sheree is too bougie to speak of; Phaedra is so hung up on this idea of being a Southern Belle that she can't see how fake she really seems to be; and I haven't seen anything yet of the supermodel, but she looks like she married her granddaddy, so... that's enough to be problematic.

In thinking about it, all the Housewives shows are built on the same premise: of displaying how fucking trivial and sad life is for the rich and "fabulous." Out of the numerous housewives that are featured, it seems only a few are actually married, and only a few seem to have sense, or to be people that I would actually not run from if I saw them in the mall. It's kind of sad that I have spent this amount of time thinking about this, because I have a feeling this is going to hamper my ability to watch the show and enjoy it for all its shameless glory.

7. Fantasia consistently making music that reminds me how weak I am as a female for loving someone that's no good/for constantly thinking about him/just for having a vagina

8. Why I feel like I'm somehow being punished for wanting the most mundane things

To write. To be published. To be fabulous. To travel. To have beautiful, smart, well-versed babies. To have a stable, healthy, marvelous relationship with a husband. To write. To write a book. To be happy. To have a garden. To have a yard. To be healthy. To have my parents live into old age, healthy. To live into old age, healthy. To be all Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee with my man.

Yeah, I guess I don't want much. I don't have to be an ass-kicking lawyer; I don't have to be a magnificent brain surgeon. I don't want to be a teacher; don't want to be a diplomat. Don't need to be a movie star, and don't need to have wealth beyond my means. I just want to be comfortable enough to be able to travel when I feel like it, without having to save and save and save for years, to write, and to have a family. Is that too much to ask?8

9. Why passive people have aggressive jobs

Why the fuck would you become a police officer if you are afraid of shooting someone? Why would you be a teacher if you can't read? Why would you be a hairdresser if you hate the smell of burning hair? Doesn't make sense? Didn't think so.

10. Why it feels like everybody's working on something but nothing's happening

It's midterm election time, and people are making these ads left and right about how this person is a crook, and how this person is evil, and how this person is that, etc. Politicians want to be elected because they say they are going to do this and that, but what is really being done? I know change doesn't happen overnight, and I know it takes a lot of work to overhaul things that affect an entire country, but still... is change going to come? Ever? Or will things just stay broken so people can get elected via promises of changing things?9

Wait for Part II. It's coming... I just didn't want to make y'all have to read to the bottom of the page.

1Oh yeah, I loved me some Back to the Future.
2real jazz exists in the realm of radio stations that have NPR radio and commitment drives to raise money, and don't have fancy jingles. I love real jazz.
3Don't get me wrong. I love Maxwell. I think he's sexy as shit. He was sexy with hair, and sexy without hair. He's so sexy he could drink my bathwater. When he said in "'Til the Cops Come Knockin'" the phrase "eat you" I think I almost offered my vagina to him. I just don't like that ["This Woman's Work"] song, and don't fucking get it.
4I got lazy. I don't do this anymore, but I should. But CDs should also come with lyrics printed, dammit. (All of them don't.)
5I was never really contemplating this shit.
6I probably wouldn't have done this either. My pride wouldn't let me.
7I have no problem with ol' girl being bisexual, nor anyone else... it just seems she goes with the wind.
8Not complaining. Legitimately asking.
9Not talking about any particular individual or politician, just in general.

truth of me, part II

Please, speak the truth about my life... it's good to know that I'm still considered interesting to someone.

http://www.stuffnoonetoldme.blogspot.com






me, in a drawing (or many)


So, so true. I ran into this fantabulous website, Stuff No One Told Me (but I learned anyway), and I found all of these drawings that represent exactly how I feel. No, I didn't draw them at all, before you get excited. I'm gifted with the pen, but not in that way.

I'll be posting more of them as I find them :)

Monday, October 11, 2010

true love in the night's sky

As I stood in the kitchen, making a ham sandwich for dinner, my roommate called out that the dusk sky was pretty. Despite being privy to many a late summer, Florida sky, I am never immune to the grandeur of God's colors splashed uniquely across the horizon.

As I started at the pink and electric orange--with a splash of baby blue--I couldn't help but think of you, and how ephemeral life's experiences really are--just days ago, you were here with me. I wonder if I made the most out of our time together. I think about things we could have done, places we could have seen, things we could have talked about.

I can't help but liken the sky to the short term of our experiences. I went back to continue making my sandwich; when I came back to the window two minutes later, the sky had already begun its nightly transformation; the colors growing deeper and darker, receding from downtown's high rises.

I can't help but wonder if pure love is like that--like a dusk's sunset, a flash in the pan of an experience; always majestic; sometimes a swirl of many vibrant colors, but a quick flash nonetheless, always burning brightest right before it disappears into one haze of blue.

09.30.10

thief

almost two years later
and it took a song and a headache
and a general distaste for my less colorful reality
to point out to me
that we've been stealing moments
and while you steal for sport
I think I've been stealing under the guise
of future gain, of upward mobility,
of the chance to escape the technicolor
of our stolen fantasy
and give it new life
deep breath
to smear its color furiously against
the gray of what's real for me
but like any thief
what's perceived, what's desired
never translates to actuality
and I continue to thieve with you,
convinced that a life of crime
inside the life that is blessed enough
to possess you
will always beat the
straight and narrow
of what is without you.


09.29.10

still around, I swear

I have

so

much

to say.


When my internet gets back up and running correctly, I promise you, you'll know just about

everything

I have

to

say.

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

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