Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Very Talented

Y'all know that I'm talented at hurting myself in weird ways. What I haven't told you is that I'm very talented at making a mess too. My mother used to and still does call me a tornado. When I was growing up she was constantly telling me, "Why can't you be neat like your brother?" Ugh! If anything, that pushed me in the opposite direction of what she wanted. Max is my younger brother and just hearing that I should be like him was a blow to my ego. Plus the fact that he would rub it in my face later on.

Another reason I balked at cleaning my room was because my mom would tell me to do it. When someone tells me to do something that is a sure indication that I won't. I know that it's not the most mature behavior and I'm working on it. I just respond better to being asked. Of course she probably did ask me repeatedly, and when that didn't work she had to tell me to do it.

I would turn around and glare at her. "It's my room. Why can't I keep it the way I like?!!!!" I would stomp my feet as hard as possible up the steps to let her know my displeasure and then slam my door. I'd turn up my music loud enough to annoy her, but not quite loud enough to have her come to my room and yell at me to turn it down. I made sure that she was able to hear the words and I played the hell out of my Pink Floyd, The Wall tape.

I am laughing as I hear her voice in my head telling me not to speak to her that way. I say the same thing to DB when he uses those words to tell me he prefers to have everything he owns on the floor. And I realize that those many times I stormed up those stairs might have contributed to the creaks in them.

My mom finds it very funny that DB can destroy a neat room in the same amount or possibly even less time than I could/can. I know that she's thinking payback. But I get the last laugh when DB and I go to Kansas for Shabbos. We leave a wake in our trail as soon as we walk in the door... at least, now I clean up without her telling me too.

Whatever I Feel Like

Some of you have asked what's been going on with me and Cowboy. I can't really tell you because I don't really know, and I bet you he's reading this thinking the same thing.

I've just decided to do whatever I feel like doing (and saying). If it's a problem, I'm sure I'll hear about it. He's rarely at a loss for words, although, I'm almost certain it does happen on occasion. ;-)

Monday, April 28, 2008


Do you get scared before posting an intimate story, poem, or intense and questioning feelings? Do you feel compelled to share them anyway... to open your soul so that the world can embrace it or trample it at will?

I find it easier to expose myself to many people at once than to just one person privately. Maybe it's because there's a lower chance of rejection, ridicule, anger, disgust or even shame. Because there must be someone out there who has experienced even the tiniest bit of what I write.

I'm thinking about why I write. Yes, it's expression and I use it as a release, to clarify and then try to look more objectively at my thoughts and feelings. But I think I write for understanding, interaction, feedback and accomplishment.

My writing voice is much different from my speaking voice. The tones and word rhythms I hear in my head are more formal. Isn't that funny? You would think they would be more casual. But maybe its because I view my thoughts and emotions with such intensity that is deserving of a more serious and formal tone/voice to express them. I love to write and forgot how much I loved it... how it flows from my head to my fingers.

There was a time when I refused to write on my computer. I was used to a more visceral experience... of my pen pressing down hard on paper leaving marks of the letters on the pages underneath. Crossing sentences and words out because I disliked the way they fit was always down with numerous strokes which then used to annoy me when I felt that I needed that phrase or word in another part of what I was writing. I would have to stare at the paper to find the shapes of the letters hidden under the marks.

Then I started to use computers and saw that the words could flow more freely, quicker than with my right hand and the callus on my middle finger, that bump from gripping the pencil and carving my words. It has started to get smaller and not as noticeable. Believe it or not my brain still works faster than my fingers and when I have a thought of another line to follow if I don't write it down it's possible to lose it as I get involved in the thoughts I am writing at that moment.

It can get distracting sometimes. I prefer to finish the thought I'm in the middle of rather than to write down a reminder word or phrase afraid of losing the flow. And now I have done just that and am racking my brain trying to concentrate on these words hoping that the idea will decide to come out of hiding, as if it's punishing me for ignoring it.

I even reread all the above to see if it would kick start it, but it seems that it's gone. But instead I go back to how I used to shuffle the papers around. And I've just remembered that I wanted to write about how I would agonize over first sentences, how I would write and re-write them. Or even start with the second sentence knowing that something a certain rhythm, cadence of words naturally belonged in front of it. I used to place the papers with different sentences and switch them around till I felt they fit together.

Do you write with a rhythm in your head knowing that a certain word comes next with two syllables and the emphasis on the first one? I do. If I can't remember the word I want I don't usually fill it in with a synonym instead I leave it blank and come back to it later. Re-reading and drumming out the beats of the word in my head until it comes to me or until I use a thesaurus. I do this when I write prose as well as poetry.

I just read an essay on poetry and on the rhythm of syllables. I need to read it again so that I understand it better and can actually use it and the terms describing it that were written there. When I read different authors the words on paper set a rhythm in my head. I like the way it feels, different than my own thoughts.

I guess people would call it a style of writing but when I hear that word it reminds me of the characters and descriptions a writer uses not their____. I also find that writing late at night or very early morning the words flow easier. Is it less barriers because my mind is tired after a long day and thoughts and feelings come out??? Don't know. I'm getting a little too tired to write now it's about four in the morning, and I've been listening to the slight click of my fingers on the keyboard.

What a difference from the sounds of typewriters or even older keyboards. Maybe it's easier for me to write with a computer now because the sound is less distracting to the rhythms in my head. But I remembered one more point about how I also write using an informal voice. That's when I hear my talking voice in my head. It's when I feel as if I'm having a conversation, maybe a more relaxed or joking conversation with the reader. And that made me think that maybe my formal voice I also use my formal voice my writing voice when I speak. Hmmmm.

Too tired to continue and the thoughts are not fighting for attention in my head anymore. My eyes are closing so I'll end this post. I'll read it later to edit it for spelling etc., but this one just wouldn't leave me alone until it was done. Good night or should I say good morning the birds have been singing for over a half hour now. That makes sense considering that its now 6:30. I thought I started writing a little earlier. Guess not. G'morning to you guys I'm off to get some much needed eye rest.

After reading this over again before I posted, I remembered another thought that I lost while I was writing. It's that I don't listen to music when I write. I like quiet. That way I can hear the rhythms more clearly... so maybe that's another reason why I like to write late at night or early in the morning the world and my life is less noisy.

I'm A What?!?!?

You Were Born Under:

Full of spunk, you are the original party animal.

You bring fun, activity, and stimulation to any event.

Self-control is not one of your strong points; you have been known to over indulge.

Cheerful and energetic, you can turn the most boring thing into something fun.

You are most compatible with a Rat or Dragon.

Friday, April 25, 2008


That's what I am... plain old tired. Some intense emotions, not too much sleep last night, and then the drive to Kansas.

I was just too tired to lug home the basketball hoop and set it up tonight. I'll do it tomorrow morning when I'm probably just as tired, but after I've had a nice shower to wake me up.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

I Hate Love

It hurts too much.

I hate limbo because I don't know what I'm expecting then I'm not at ease and can't experience what I really feel. All that I feel then is anxious. It colors everything a pukey sea green kind of color that reminds me of hospitals where I've done a lot of anxious waiting through my life.

I'm horrible at making decisions, not all decisions just a few and of those only the ones that impact on me singularly. I would love for someone to make these decisions for me, but then what would be the purpose of me being involved in my life at all?

I don't know whether to cry or yell so I do neither. The pain is muted right now. I have too much going on in my life to feel it completely or maybe I just don't want to face it.

I feel like I'm losing a best friend, and he's not even lost. It just that things are in limbo, but I have this feeling. Anyway... I'm sure my tears will come. But my eyes are dry right now. I guess, I'm trying to push it down. I've never felt this way about someone. Maybe it was easier to care about him like this because he was so far away. So that this wasn't "real." Then why does it still hurt?

I have too good of an imagination. I let dreams get the best of me. At this point in my life, I should know that there is no such thing as "happily ever after." But I do know that. I don't want perfect. I just want to share. I want to share smiles and tears, arguments and make-ups, family dinners and slamming doors.

I wish... I hope... I dream... and I curse myself for wanting the impossible.

Didn't reread. Don't want to read this again.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

The Wrong Way?

Foolish dreams lead me down a twisting road
The sun sets and shadows darken the way
Clouds hide the nighttime sparkle
And my steps falter

No lightness in the future path
Dragging feet through a tunnel without end
My eyes adjust to the dimness of my world

And tears pour down onto a gray life
Of unfulfilled love.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

It Made Me Laugh

Doll sent me this link and I decided to share it with you. Let me know if you enjoyed it.

Friday, April 18, 2008

I Don't Like To Nag

I really don't like nagging. But I also don't like being taken for granted. I won't be. I won't allow myself to be.

I'm a person that needs affection, and not just sexual attention. I need to be able to say and hear "Good night, honey." And if you can't call then just a quick note!

I guess instead of nagging I'm kvetching. I don't care! I'm tired, rather, I'm exhausted, and I want. That's it. I just want!!!

And don't compare me to people in your past. I don't want to hear about it.

Since, I'm ranting what else do I have to complain about?

And YES! I'm tired and that usually means cranky and kvetchy. I also can't sleep and have a long day ahead of me. UGH! I feel like a three year old when I just want to stamp my feet and yell. Isn't that a pleasant picture?


Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Guest Post

I've been kinda busy this past week as I'm sure all of you have been. And if you haven't, try not to rub it in our faces.

It's not like my fingers haven't been itching to get some words down "on paper." I even started two posts. One of which has become a story which may or may not end up on my blog. Of course, I didn't finish the posts, so they weren't posted. Should I write another sentence or two with the word post in it. Sorry, just a little punch drunk... haven't been getting too much sleep.

So I got an e-mail from a reader offering his services... NO! Not like that!!! Get your minds out the gutter!! He offered to post for me. And of course, I said, "yes." I believe in making my life easier soooo... I would like to introduce you to Yossi and his rant on wooden spoons and Pesach cleaning.

I’ve been thinking about this all day, as I furiously scrub down my apartment ahead of the looming deadline, and I have reached a conclusion: It’s all because of the wooden spoons.

For as far back as anyone can remember, Jews have been buying wooden spoons to use during the b’dikas chametz ceremony, even though they serve no known function. They simply get carried around for a little while, then get burned with the crumbs found. Despite the lack of utility, great effort has generally gone into getting these spoons, and no Passover can be complete without one. Or so it seems.

I trace back the entire genre of senseless, unreasoned, extra-halachic stringencies to this dynamic, all provoked by the lowly wooden spoon.

Why wash off the chametz before putting it away? Why clean in places no rabbi ever demanded? Why spend extra to buy unwashed eggs, so the shell shouldn't touch (non-chametz) soap? Why hire anti-Semitic Eastern Europeans to steal, break, and scratch everything in the house? Why raise the home tension level and blood-pressure to unsafe levels?

Does anyone think that the rabbis of the Talmud did such things? They didn’t even have aluminum foil!

The Ben Ish Chai, Chief Rabbi of Baghdad at a time when that community was very rich and living in huge homes,wrote a “Mussar” letter to the women in the community. I paraphrase: “Don’t be lazy when it comes to Pesach preparation and cleaning. You are privileged to live in large homes, and have plenty of help, so don’t wait until the last minute! Start cleaning two, maybe even three, days before the holiday!”

I rest my case. And my pruny-looking dishwater hands. Excuse me while I go learn Divrei Torah on the Hagada.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Can You Think For Yourself?

Do you know how to think for yourself? Do you know how to question? Do you even know what questions to ask? Have you asked them? Have you been able to answer them for yourself?

Have you taught your children to think and not just to accept? Are you willing to listen to their questions? Have you made yourself accessible so that they will feel comfortable coming to you with their questions? Are you willing to admit to them that you don't have all the answers?

I'll probably continue this post another time. Just felt the need to get it out.

What Are You Dreaming Of?

For some reason I started thinking about differences between men's and women's fantasies...

Please correct me if I'm wrong, but most, if not all, of men's fantasies involve sex.

Now I'm not your average woman or average Bais Yaakov girl, so some, OK, OK a large portion of my fantasies also involve sex, but that does not mean all of them. One of my favorite fantasies is having a wife. Yup, someone to come home to who will listen to you kvetch, have a delicious meal waiting for you, has taken care of the kids, and cleaned up the house. All you have to do is hug and kiss everyone.

Alright, even that fantasy is a little ridiculous. Let's just say I'd like to come home to a clean house, with food in the fridge and no legos left on the floor to permanently maim your bare feet. I guess you know what happened to me last night after turning off the lights in the living room.

Here are some more of my fantasies, and yes, some of these are sexual in nature. C'mon it's me!!! I would love for kissing and foreplay to last a long, long, long time. Another major fantasy is living happily ever after with the man I love. Of course, that doesn't mean perfectly ever after. It means that I know that happiness is at the very least around the corner and accompanied by the best makeup sex ever.

Major huge fantasy here... DB receiving all the help he needs with school so that he doesn't come to hate learning.

How about this one... making love out on the African plains. A moonless sky brightened by millions of stars and the rumbling sound of lions roaring in the distance.

Any of you brave enough to tell me your fantasies?

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Wedding Bells

No, they're not for me. Give me a break.

I got a phone call from a friend tonight, and he said they're talking marriage. It's serious, and they are trying to figure out all the logistics of blending their two families.

He sounded so happy, and I'm so excited for him. It's a huge step. Actually, it's more like a huge, ginormous, stupendous, extremely unbelievably big step, but he's ready. YAY!!!!

The funny thing about this post is that I'm sure that another friend of mine thinks I'm writing about him, and I'm not!

The Message

I listened to it three times, and then saved it so I could listen to it again. It was a rough afternoon for me, and Cowboy just happened to call 5 minutes after all the craziness was going on. I was angry, upset, sad, frustrated, and so much more. Anyway, it all worked out in the end, plus I got this funny message from him.

Listening to his happy voice, smiling in my ear, his laughter while he's teasing me, knowing that he could get away with it, and that it would only make me smile... saying those words and both of us knowing that it's true.

There's so much to say, but it's all mishkibibbled up in my mind. But that message made me laugh and want to fly hundreds of miles just to kiss him for leaving it. Of course, if I flew that many miles I would end up doing more than kiss him. C'mon, what do you expect??? It's me, and well, let's just say he does it for me, and I'd like to do it for and to him.

OK, OK, I've got sex on the brain tonight, and no comments from you smartasses saying that I'm always thinking about sex (even though it may be true). Ummmm, it's just that he encourages these thoughts, and I can't and don't want to resist. How can I resist anyway??? He's got THE VOICE. Maybe that's what I should have called him instead of Cowboy. Too bad, I'm not going to go changing his name now.

Back to his kisses... Yeah, I know. I haven't kissed him... yet. But I know what they'll be like, and how my knees will get weak and I'll have to hold onto him even tighter so that I won't fall with his voice whispering in my ear.

Hmmm, it looks like it's time for me to stop writing, but I won't stop thinking about his hands on me. I've got a good imagination... a very good imagination.

Haveil Havalim Pidgeon Break

Haveil Havalim #161 is up at JTown Underground

Thursday, April 3, 2008


He makes it easy... easy to talk to, to tell him things I've never told anyone... easy to laugh and cry with, easy to care about, and easy to write about. There's a comforting warm feeling that I get in my chest when I think of him. It's contentment.

Anyway, remember that I wrote two nights ago that it's hard not to be able to call him anytime I would like and most especially to say good-night. He called me late last night to specifically say goodnight to me. I fell asleep while dreaming of being in his arms, hearing his deep sweet voice and with a soft smile on my lips.

What I'm trying to say is that he listens to me, and then tries to make me happy. I don't have to shout things from the mountain top to get his attention. He's standing right there next to me in the clouds.

Yes, I like to dream. I like to hope for better things... for safety, happiness, love, and it's easy to do this with him around. Don't get me wrong. I'm also realistic, which does make the dreaming difficult at times. There are no guarantees in life. I won't make any promises, and I HATE it when people try to promise me something. I guess today is a day for cliches so here comes another one. Promises are made to be broken.

Tell me you will try your best. I will take you at your word and understand if something doesn't quite work out the way you said it was going to. But just don't promise me anything. The disappointment that I feel when the promise is broken carries over into my not being able to trust you in the future.

It's kind of obvious that I've been promised things before or maybe not even promised just told that things would take place and I've been let down. The worst thing about it is that I get angry at myself too when this happens. I blame myself for trusting someone's word again. It makes me feel stupid, not just hurt.

Oh, no! I said the "S" word. It's a word that we don't say in our family. When DB gets really angry or upset he sometimes shouts "I JUST WANNA SAY THE "S" WORD!!!" Of course, I'm trying my very best not to burst out laughing when he does this.

He's too cute, and he would be infuriated to know that I called him that. He's getting older and wants to be cool. I've caught him a couple of times looking at himself pose in the mirror... turning his baseball cap around, crossing his arms over his chest, slouching a little and putting his hands in his pockets.

He doesn't realize that the fact that he sticks up for his friends, and also doesn't let them walk all over him make him pretty cool just as he is... sure do love the darlin' boy. And I really do like the darlin' man.

Left Out

Somehow this one got left out of yesterday's post with the other songs.

I really like this video...

but Bonnie Raitt's voice really does the song justice.

I Did It This Time

I just sent in the same poems that I thought I sent last time. I didn't want to wait another month and a half to find out if they were even received. I know for a fact that the editor got them this time. "Thank You CR. Your poetry has been submitted," popped up in the next screen after I pressed enter.

I'll be notified within two months if they are going to be used.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Singing In The Car,

in the shower, and while dancing at home. I usually get a couple of smiles from people driving by when I'm singing on my way to work, to take DB to school, to go food shopping... y'all get the idea I sing in my car.

But strangers aren't the only ones giving me those smiles and strange looks. DB laughs and giggles and has started to roll his eyes sometimes especially when I grab him and dance him around the apartment.

Sugar Sugar The Archies

Build Me Up Buttercup The Foundations

I Just Want To Fly Sugar Ray - Exactly what I want to do like these people.

Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone Bill Withers

Ticks Brad Paisley

Strong Enough To Be My Man Sheryl Crow

They Can't Take That Away From Me Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong

I get so blown away...

It's missing the first part of the song with Louis' trumpet playing, but I liked the ending to this movie. I just love kisses.

La Vie En Rose Louis Armstrong - the whole song

Hotel Room Regina Spektor

Loving You Elvis Presley

btw- music makes me happy


I'm jealous. It's true. I admit it. I'm jealous of my friends and family who can see the person they care about whenever they want. I'm jealous that they can pick up the phone and listen to the voice they want to hear the most. I wish, well, I just wish...

But, no I care about someone miles and miles away. And it's frustrating, I want UGH!!!

I feel like a three year old and I want to stomp my feet, and yell, and cry as if having a tantrum could change things.

So, I've been speaking to Cowboy on a regular basis every day, except his schedule makes it very difficult for me to call him. This leaves me with little or no control, and that drives me bonkers. It gets me angry at myself, at him, at the situation. Yes, I know I'm whining, but I don't care!!! Now, I really sound like a child.

It's that it hurts sometimes. It makes me not want to answer the phone when he calls or to get off quickly in the middle of a conversation. I want him to feel the same hurt. Real mature CR, like hurting him will make things better. It won't and the major part is that I don't want to hurt him. I just WANT HIM!

Before y'all get down on him, he really does a good job of staying in touch with me. But I want to be able to call and say goodnight, pleasant dreams. I want to have that option.

btw-I hate being in limbo.