Archive for December, 2013
It’s my birthday, again
So, today is my birthday, again, for the thirty-third time. I’m thirty-three. I feel… old.
I don’t feel like writing much else just now.
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A week off
So, I took a week off, blew my vow, but I don’t feel too bad about it. I think I need to strive toward quality rather than quantity.
Something to do next your…
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Post-Christmas
So, I got some really spectacular presents, and I have absolutely no idea what I did to deserve them. Randy (ex-step-dad) was beyond generous.
I know of one person who might be reading this and almost certainly thinking that I should take my presents and go die in a car fire, which is comforting.
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Merry Christmas!
Christmas morning…
Just before the opening of the presents… We’re waiting on my brother, then we find out if Santa brought more than coal.
Good waiting music…
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My favorite Christmas song
So, this song is so beautifully written, part of it is tattooed on me. It’s not a “I’m one of those Christmas lunatics, I have ho ho ho tattooed on my face,” thing, the lyrics are just that good. Tattoo good.
The song, Calling On Mary, is one of two original Christmas songs written by Aimee Mann for her Christmas record, One More Drifter in the Snow. I know I’ve mentioned the record before, it’s a Christmas staple for me. I feel like Aimee really captures the melancholy beauty of Christmas. In adulthood, Christmas still retains its magic, its fun, but there can be romance, loneliness, lost love, introspection, experiences that come with age. Drifter embodies all the facets of Christmas through eyes that have seen decades of Christmases.
There’s still time to enjoy it, buy it on iTunes!
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Happy birthday…
Kitty Jesus
Happy Birthday Kitty Jesus!
May we all learn from His adorable teachings of love.
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Shopping!
So, today we finished the Christmas shopping, my brother and I always go at pretty much Zero Hour. It’s just his way. I personally like the craziness, the decorations, most people look cheerful to be part of the last minute rush. Some dread this hustle and bustle, I think it’s fun.
Though, every year, while waiting in some line or another, I think, “If the zombies came right now, this would be less fun.”
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Fleeting
Kind eyes, midnight eyes meeting my melancholy green.
A conversation in glances, in magnetic looks, learning each other without words.
Her eyes are beautiful and warm and so right now, seeing the me that I am, laid bare, the me without masks, without the choice of presentation. Soothing stormy eyes, calm in a tempest eyes, seeing the me that maybe only God sees.
Soft finger-tips brush my cheek, my chin, my lips.
Then a fleeting kiss.
A fleeting kiss.
A fleeting kiss.
A flash of perfect moments kept in existence with imperfect words.
Lovers not to be, want to be, maybe.
Who knows?
I don’t know.
