rut a tut tut

I feel like I want to write so much, but have nothing to say
Maybe everyone should just shut up for a day. We can make it a national holiday--you know, one that every faith, race and sexuality can enjoy.

Christmas List

I want to live.
I want to read.
I want to eat persimmons.
I want to find joy in everything.
I want to love everyone.
I want to hug people more often.
I want to marry Michael Whisman.
I want to feel fulfilled everyday.
I want to scream at the top of a mountain.
I want to camp for days.
I want to get lost up in big bear like Pazely and I did years ago.
I want to tell people I dislike, to fuck themselves.
I want to tell bad people why they're bad.
I want to help people.
I want to learn about God.
I want to write something profound and lasting.
I want to be a part of theater.
I want to travel everywhere.
I want to go to parties and sing karaoke.
I want to run everyday.
I want to be courageous enough to look foolish in front of anyone.
I want to feed into Holiday Consumerism and decorate my house EVERY year
I want to use my money buying things for people.
I want to take road trips to the beach at two in the morning, just to catch the sunrise.
I want to keep my friends, no matter how long I haven't seen them.
I want to stay as hopeful as I am now, forever.
I want to make people feel like the world has hope.
I want to have two children: Vincent Michael and Penelope Marie.
I want to make everything I'm a part of better.
I want to be in a snowball fight and go sledding.
I want to cuddle on cold nights and watch movies to pass the cold time.
I want to cry for everything deserving of such a powerful emotion.
I want sick people to feel better.
I want my family to find peace with themselves and discover faith.
I want my mom to find happiness the most.
I want to drive with the windows down, a car full of friends, singing a song at the top of our lungs.
I want all things vanilla.
I want to stop wanting.
I want to appreciate being alive.
I want to taste, smell, touch and hear life and be worthy enough to appreciate something so incredible.

explanation

there are times when you want to explain something
but there would be so much explaining to do that you're at a loss for words
you would have to sum up years of experience in short, general phrases
memories could be hazy and you might get a part wrong
lines and stories may not add up
different emotions, feelings and words would get lost through translation
and you would end up cutting yourself short
knowing that there was so much in that time
so many things said and done
so many moments
you'd get so frustrated and heartbroken trying to explain something so profound
to someone who could never understand
that the only consolation to yourself would be a deep breath
and acknowledge that it's too much to say in one conversation
and so with one person confused, but unmoved
and the other, you, nostalgic and lonely in thought that can't find solace in empathetic ears
with this, all of this, a part of yourself gets buried and your mind tries to digress
memories and feelings that were once so important being stored away
little by little, in between short handed conversations and no way to express yourself
you get lost
   you forget who you are
           slowly, you disappear

Coming Clean

Dear Timothy,
      Your girlfriend Sofie found me on a Tuesday, several months ago, and since then we have gotten to know each other very well. I know things about her that no one else does. She turns to my comfort day after day and you still don't know. You don't know that I take care of her in ways that you can't.
      The truth is, Tim, I've seen you two together in rare moments and I watch your hands fumble around her. I noticed that you don't reach the places I can, nor do you take the time to touch or caress them.You rush and trip over your fingers. It's less about love and more about charades with you, it seems.
       I know things about your girlfriend that you don't. You don't take the time to, Timothy. But I do. For example, I know that she has a freckle on the back of her neck that you can't see unless she lifts her hair when you're close behind her. I know that her favorite smell is a warm vanilla cinnamon: I've known this almost as long as I've known her . I know that her favorite spot to get rubbed is her lower back. In soft, slow motions. I know that she has soft and slender arms leading to soft and feminine hands that guide me around her body whenever we meet. From her breasts, to her hips and thighs and right down to her toes, I've known our beautiful Sofie. Almost everyday, I know her over again.
      I realize this might upset you; however I couldn't keep doing this without you knowing how personal Sofie and I's relationship has gotten.
      I'm sorry Tim, but you're not the only one touching your girlfriend.
                             My regards,
                                     Sofie's Shower Loofah.

Fall

There is something about Fall that makes me feel so nice. It's like I get so excited that I die a little on the inside--in the best possible way, of course.

What got me thinking about this was that I was walking around the lake at the college with my pink little sweater on, hot drink in hand, and I felt so happy. I could see leaves fall and ducks swim around, pecking at each other, people wearing boots and cuddling themselves or each other for some kind of warmth. I wasn't expecting all of that to be as uplifting as it turned out to be.

I don't know what it is about Fall. The sun is out, but it's not as bright as summer, or as hot and violent. There's a coolness to the air that makes me feel like I could quite possibly be the most romantic person in the world. Which isn't true, but it makes me feel like I could be.

I start thinking about scarves and pumpkins and being with friends. Cuddling comes to mind and stay-at-home days when all we do is bake and watch movies, covered under blankets. It's strange to think how much happiness a time can bring. I have no idea what will happen this Fall, but I'm so irrationally happy at the simple fact that I'm living at this moment of time, that I could care less.

So, thank you, Fall, for making every year worth the wait to get to your season of loveliness.

This story doesn't have an ending yet! If you have any questions, comments, suggestions, etc, etc--tell me!  Constructive criticism helps out!

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          There's a man. A little man. He teaches biology. He has black hair, brown skin and a black mustache. He consistently wear khakis and button up t-shirts that look like they were inspired by graph paper. He wears different outfits everyday, but they all follow the khaki and graph paper t-shirt guidelines.
          At first his students came to the class prepared, terrified of the subject they were going to tackle. They were unsure of how hard each test would be and whether or not they could remember everything. Nerves got to the students and their hands grew hot, some with perspiration on their foreheads, some with anxiety growing in bellies that wish they would have eaten the second half of their bagel this morning. Nevertheless, the students waited. And waited. Some making idle conversation and little jokes, but none overstepping the unknown boundaries of the classroom.
          Then the little man who knows so much about Biology, but little on people, came into the room with his notebook and brown leather messenger bag. He situated these things on his desk then looked up at the nervous and anxious students. Thirty-two pairs of eyes looked back at him, scrutinizing his mustache and choice of clothing. One girl questioned his leather bag while another tried to think of what he would look like naked. One boy decided the teacher was too small to teach such a large class and immediately stopped paying attention even before the lecture started. He later failed the course. Some students had notebooks and pencils out, ready to write down whatever the teacher may have to say. However, the majority sat down watching him, waiting for something to happen.
          Then he spoke.
          It was a simple, "Good morning." The two simple words that would define an entire man. In his eyes, he simply greeted the classroom. However, what the students saw, was something entirely different.
          The students saw a man who avoided eye contact, gazing down as he said good morning--a greeting more directed to the ground rather than the students. He put his hands in his pockets and when he wasn't looking at the ground, he was looking around at everything and nothing at the same time; anywhere but directly at a student. His mannerisms and persona screamed nervousness, shyness, a lack of good self esteem or confidence.
          It was in this ultimate moment of judgement that the teacher had lost his classroom. Half the classroom stopped listening to him and started thinking of him as a joke and quickly wondered if he would let them out early. Some looked at each other as if something funny just happened and they should laugh together, roll their eyes and take a sigh of relief--this wasn't a REAL class, this was one of those classes.
          A few felt sorry for him, but consequently couldn't pay attention to what he was saying because they were too busy paying attention to how sorry they felt for him. One girl hoped she could find a wedding ring on him, as if that could give him a happiness the girl didn't think he had. (She didn't find a ring on any of his fingers.)
          The rest were overachievers who tried to track everything he said about the class, but soon realized he was repeating himself and what they had already read in the course syllabus. As a result they shrugged him and his entire class off as an easy A. In their academic minds, he had been crossed off as a source of help.
          The only person who liked the teacher was the girl who imagined him naked. She liked him because she was an art major and thought that since he was a small man, he would be interesting to draw.

another day in the dumps.

Charles' day was going along just like any other.
He woke up, walked his dog, had a protein shake, showered, got dressed, kissed his wife goodbye and left for work.Nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn't until after he gave his hello's and how-are-you's to fellow co-workers, got to his oak wood desk, sat down and opened his first e-mail that Charles started to feel strange. His stomach gurgled in a painful kind of way. He wasn't hungry, so he figured it was unimportant and ignored it.
Then, the pain came again and his stomach turned in an awful kind of way. It was like a fist grabbed the inside of him and twisted a handful of guts and muscle.  The sharp instant pain was new to Charles, so he inhaled a surprised breath then groaned.. Charles put his hand to his stomach as if it would calm the agony growing in his belly.
The phone rang, but the constant wailing rings were nothing compared to the constant painful churns of his stomach. It was when Charles fell out of his chair in an attempt to call for help that he thought he might die. Pain like this couldn't be for the living, he thought. Charles' nose started to bleed and he gave a little cry, trying to yell for help. However, Charles had a very nice office with very nice doors that he special ordered so that when his very nice looking mistress came to bring him lunch, they could have sex in peace, without notice.
Charles cried again, the pain intensifying even more. The blood from his nose had stopped flowing, but dried on his face, crusting itself onto the pores of his skin.
Now, if you could imagine just for a moment what it would feel like to get stabbed in the stomach by a thousand needles, then having to live in the climax of that pain without any relief or break from it, you might be able to imagine what was happening to Charles.
He feebly curled into the fetal position, praying for the first time in his life.
Dear God, please help me! I can't stand this-Ahhhh! Oh--Oh--oh!!  I'll spend more time at home! I'll give my wife the children she wants! Just please-oww--pl--uhhh-PLEASE! Make this stop. I won't cheat! I'll go to chur--   Then silence.

The stillness before a painful climactic end. Charles' eyes bulged and his mouth dropped.

Just as he was going to pledge his life to Jesus and monogamy, a thunderous sound coming from his ass filled the room. Confused by the noise and gradual relief, Charles moaned the entire time. No more pain? Some moments later when the sound ended, Charles breathed in heavy, short gasps looking towards the lower half of his body.
Charles had painfully shit himself.