"on winning my heart"

always light my cigarette first

open the door, and go in after me

squeeze my hand and catch my eye

keep me on my toes.

have the insight to know when i want to talk

and the patience to endure my silence until i do.

know how i like my coffee and how i take my tea

and that you're always on my mind.

lay your body beside mine and know

that i love the warmth of your skin.

hold my hand, and catch my tears

with a brush of your fingertips or with a kiss.

when my limbs grow heavy and my body weak,

wrap your arms around me and take me home.

dear bloggers who i follow,

please update more often

cause i need something to do

Sooo....here's the final product of my workshop piece for Creative Writing. It's kinda cool?

Best,

Susannah

She touched the tips of three fingers to the warm, puffy area of broken skin that stretched taut over the bone of her eye socket and cursed quietly. The slim and tattooed arms reached out to support her thin frame against the sink, and she raised her lids, one heavy and dark with swelling, to meet her own gaze in the mirror. Breath moved through her body of it’s own accord, and she stared, unmoving, at her reflection. She hated the fine strands of hair that hung in a limp frame about her face; she hated the pinkish, mostly-faded acne marks and the way her collar bones jutted out. Sarah felt a knotted discomfort in the center of her stomach which radiated through her body a sensation she couldn’t name. It felt cold, it felt lonely, and it made her limbs ache in a dead way. Her body gave way and she sank onto the cold toilet seat, noticing but not caring that everything about the tiny room was stained and cracked with age and overuse. Bits of hair were caked into the corners of the tile with dried shaving cream and soap, and the spit-back toothpaste of countless renters had worn a bleached path in the apartment’s yellowed sink basin. Sarah sat and stared and hated.

She peered silently into the mirror’s surface and continued to scrutinize herself, her eyes seeming to find plenty of flaws to focus on. She hated the way her freckles blended together in places and resembled blotchy birthmarks, and she hated the tiny gray sun-specks in the whites of her eyes. Somehow thinking only of these, these permanent and virtually unnoticeable imperfections made it easier to avoid the fresh and bloody deformity that now razed her face. The swelling had increased, it seemed, and the space around her right eye was darkening further. It felt strange watching this, the bruising process. Bruises never really appeared on impact, she knew, but rather ripened and swelled visibly like some rotting fruit. The only interregnum in the vast purpling bruise that surrounded her eye was provided by the bloody tears and cuts in her skin. She was too drained from the emotional exhaustion that comes with crying and screaming and fighting to feel anything passionate; she didn’t even hate him, she was too tired to. But beneath the exhaustion and the feeling of withdrawal she felt as her adrenaline receded and even deeper than that cold feeling of loss and loneliness in her stomach, Sarah felt the need to leave. She needed to get out for good, and she needed to do it today. Because no matter how many times he apologized, and no matter how many times she wondered if maybe she actually deserved it, she knew this was never going to get better. Dean was never going to get better. Sure, it was easy to think that all couples fight, and that everyone gets angry: it was with those thoughts that she had appeased herself thus far. Something was different this time, though, whether it was in the way he kept drawing his fist back again and again even as she cowered away or whether it was something inside her that had finally snapped.

The thin walls and worn carpeted floor of the apartment watched and creaked as Sarah ambled through the small rooms. Her thoughts were racing and somersaulting through her head, and nothing seemed to fit. She found momentary refuge on the couch in the would-be living room and drew her knees to her chest. She absentmindedly dug her front teeth into her knee caps, hugging her legs and watching he saliva darken her jeans as she gnawed. The taste was comforting. Weirdo, she mused, tossing her head back and rubbing the wet spot on her knees. This was ridiculous. Brushing her hand anxiously through her hair, Sarah hopped form the couch and decided enough was enough.

As she hastily planned to leave, Sarah’s thoughts drifted through her mind. Images, distorted and disconnected, flashed before her. There they were, she and Dean, sitting in that very room watching a movie on TV that bore no importance. Her toes snuck under his legs for warmth. He knew she loved to rest her cheek on his shoulder when they sat side by side. She knew he sat extra still so as to be a comfortable pillow. She liked that. He often opened the passenger seat door for her, because she liked it. He tried to make her feel special sometimes. She felt alone.

The front door to the apartment swung open with a small noise, and Sarah’s thoughts fled through the opening where orange twilight made a silhouette of Dean’s frame in the doorway. His eyes found hers for a moment, and he said nothing. Like always, he was trying to pretend nothing had happened, but tension crouched beneath their silence and the air was heavy between them.

“I think I’m going to go,” Sarah said softly. Dean raised his head and his gaze shot across the room.

“Where?” he asked, the anger in his eyes evident for a moment, though he strained to keep his voice level. Dean knew what she meant, but he was casual as always. He could have been commenting on the weather. She felt her hands begin to shake, and sweat shined on her palms.

“I just can’t...do this anymore, Dean” she said flatly. She felt desperate. Part of her wanted him to run to her, to hold her, and to stroke her hair with his thick fingers, sliding them across her shoulders and down her back like he used to. Bare skin against bare skin, they resolved problems.

Dean stood by the door and did nothing. Sarah felt rooted to the floor, and the only movement she seemed capable of was curling her toes. She forced them into the thin carpet until the knuckles ached, her unseeing eyes staring forward. Dean had wandered into the kitchen now, and Sarah saw from where she stood that he had taken a beer from the fridge. He knocked off the cap with a key from the bunch he still clutched in his hand.

“C’m here, baby,” Dean whispered as he leaned against the kitchen counter. He took a long sip from the bottle clutched in his strong fingers and waited for her to obey. Sarah walked toward him, straining to keep from falling into his arms. She hoped he would read her thoughts and know how to really fix this, but she knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t. Instead he slipped his warm thumb into the waistband of her jeans, rubbing the soft area of skin underneath her sharp hip bone. Her breath drew sharply into her lungs and he pulled her close, his hands deftly exploring the body he knew so well. Sarah clenched her teeth together hard and tried to withdraw, knowing exactly where this was going. His sly grin flashed and with his big hands he gripped her supple ass, pressing her slim body into him still harder. He knew she loved it, and she did. Her blood pulsed hot through her body, and her breathing grew heavy. She wanted this so bad, a hot and rough remedy, instant gratification, instant satisfaction...over and over again. She bit the inside of her lip and shoved herself into his warm embrace.

“Dean,” she breathed after a moment, her eyes fluttering shut. “Dean, stop,” she said, still barely audible, but pulling away again. “This can’t keep happening like this,” she cried softly. She couldn’t find the words to explain why, even to herself, but she knew she had to end this cycle. The relationship drained and consumed her, sucked her time and her thoughts and her very being. More times than she could count it happened like this; he would hold her body against his and fuck her good and hard until it was over, when their hot bodies would be slick with sweat and satisfaction and for a moment it was perfect. But all too soon he would roll out of bed and slink into his jeans, stumbling on one foot for a moment before slipping on his belt and tank top. The passion was gone from his eyes then, and she would hug her knees to her bare chest and chew the inside of her lips to keep form crying as he spent the rest of the day staying out of her way and being short and impatient with her at any forced interaction.

“Hey, hey...” he breathed, not ready to give up this easily without getting what he wanted first. “Come on, just give me a chance to show you how good I can make you feel.” Sarah closed her eyes and rested her face in the softness of his shoulder. She inhaled, breathing in his scent that was so familiar, so comforting. She felt trapped. Her thoughts raced as she searched for the words to tell him that this was killing her, that for every moment of pleasure there were hours and days of anguish, of pain and heartache and screams and hatred.

“This is it. I can’t. I can’t.” With an instantaneous rush of a new kind of impulsivity, Sarah wrenched herself free from his grasp and rushed to the room they shared, lunging around the room for her belongings.

“You’re really doing this?” he challenged, stalking after her into the bedroom, grasping out to get hold of her body again. “You’re really going to run out on me and fuck this up?” He was getting angry now, breathing in that way she hated, his eyes squinting. Inside Sarah was seething. How dare he accuse her of ruining what they shared? All she did was give, of herself and of her body and of her emotions, always at his beck and call. Her eyed stung with the tears that welled up behind her lids. She turned her face away from his, trying to stay strong.

“You pathetic little bitch,” he spat as she grabbed her suitcase. “No one wants you, and I won’t be surprised when you come back begging like a little bitch for me to take you back. You need me” He walked from the room as he rolled his eyes. Her own dripped with tears, which rolled hot down her cheeks. She wiped them away furiously, lost yet again for words. Her body was hot and weak, but she raised up slowly from her seat on the edge of the bed. She shouldered the door brutally, dragging a suitcase and backpack behind her. Without another word from either of them, Sarah reached for the handle of the front door, feeling the coolness of the metal beneath her hot fist. She turned it gently and sucked in the night air, momentarily calm.

word bleed

I need to finish my CRW workshop piece that's due tomorrow.

I need to figure out what time the coffee copy place closes so I can get there and get 19 or is it 20 copies printed

I wonder if Kinko's in open 24 hours; it should be

there were only three parking spaces outside the Kinko's on Franklin Street

I never remember why we went

Yesterday was weird. Today was, is weird.

I'm addicted, I'm reckless, I feel defiant and destructive. I want to feel and experience hurt, I want to fuck and get fucked

up.

It smells like Autumn

outside. Within I am fevered.

And still the wind whispers.

Inside I am squirming. I sit still but am not. I cannot find stillness or peace.

Yet.

Jimbo's was lovely tonight

Great time with Mel, bottomless coffee, and some surprises.

love and light,

S-

Smoking wet cigarettes

head down, small frown, no crown

all’s bare and wet - don’t let

this be all there is here: fear.

While rubber boots slap the ground

umbrella’s up and away, shuttin’ out this town.

Grass is soaked, mind is toked and

eyes like moist marbles, rolling

lungs breath in, mind twists and spins

swims, through the air and water

pours down like tears, fears

of this new place, this new face

What have I become?

more CRW shit; etc

Life has been coming at me non-stop, and I love it. Live fast, die young.

Really though, I need to develop this piece into something a bit longer for my Creative Writing workshop. Any and all criticism or support or ideas would be preesh'd, yo.

-->She touched the tips of three fingers to the warm, puffy area of broken skin that stretched taut over the bone of her eye socket and cursed quietly. Her slim and tattooed arms reached out to support her thin frame against the sink, and she raised her lids, one heavy and dark with swelling, to meet her own gaze in the mirror. She hated the fine strands of hair that hung in a limp frame about her face; she hated the pinkish, mostly-faded acne marks and the way her collar bones jutted out. Sarah felt a discomfort in the center of her stomach which radiated through her body a sensation she couldn’t name. It felt cold, it felt lonely, and it made her body ache in a dead way. She continued to scrutinize herself, her eyes seeming to find plenty of flaws to focus on. She hated the way her freckles blended together in places and resembled blotchy birthmarks, and she hated the tiny gray sun-specks in the whites of her eyes. Somehow thinking only of these, these permanent and virtually unnoticeable imperfections made it easier to avoid the fresh and bloody deformity that now razed her face. The swelling had increased, it seemed, and the space around her right eye was darkening further. She always hated watching this, the bruising process. Bruises didn’t appear on impact, she knew, but rather ripened and swelled visibly like some rotting fruit. The only interregnum in the vast purpling bruise that surrounded her eye was provided by the bloody tears and cuts in her skin. She was too drained from the emotional exhaustion that comes with crying and screaming to feel anything passionate; she didn’t even hate him, she was too tired to. But beneath the exhaustion and beneath the withdrawal she felt as her adrenaline receded and even deeper than that cold feeling of loss and loneliness in her stomach, Sarah felt the need to leave. She needed to get out for good, and she needed to do it today. Because no matter how many times he apologized, and no matter how many times she wondered if maybe she actually deserved it, she knew this was never going to get better. Dean was never going to get better. Sure, it was easy to think that all couples fight, everyone gets angry, and it was with those thoughts that she had appeased herself thus far. Something was different this time, though, whether it was in the way he kept drawing his fist back again and again even as she cowered away or whether it was something insider her that had finally snapped. As she planned to leave, her thoughts drifted almost comically to a country song she’d heard a few times. No, she wasn’t going to go home and load her shotgun and had no intention of showing him that little girls were made of “gunpowder and lead,” but somehow she loved the thought of doing so. She tossed her make-up in her bag, knowing she would need it. She rifled through her closet, grabbing anything else she might ever want to see again. She smiled bitterly and tossed that black eyepatch from Halloween two years ago in to her backpack. Just in case the make-up wasn’t doing the trick, she mused.

She wandered around his house one last time, making sure all of her belongings that had been left here at Dean’s apartment over the years was stuffed safely in her suitcase. Dragging her suitcase behind her and slinging her backpack over her shoulder, Sarah headed for the door. She paused when she glanced in the kitchen. WIth a burst of Miranda Lambert-like need for justice, she rushed into the kitchen. He had always been so particular about his food, and this was her chance to finally help herself to whatever she pleased. Throwing the door to the fridge open, she grabbed the last cold can of PBR. Fuck Dean, fuck all his stupid rules and his possessiveness of her and of his damned beer. This was it. She snapped the pop top and reached for the handle of the door. Damn did it taste good.

home?

We just arrived bak at UNC-W after a very interesting stay in Chapel Hill. Seeing my mom (and little sisters) was probably the best part, and soaking in the hippie-wonderful atmosphere was a close second. It's very different from Wilmington, and being back there almost felt like visiting myself in a former life time...I saw a lot of people from my past who I hadn't really expected to see, but it turned out for the best. Mostly. I don't know what else to say...I'm feeling a bit under the weather emotionally. Cleaning room, organizing, coffee, etc.

Another CRW assignment..?

Memory.

I don’t remember what made us run

that icy morning, but my panicked feet fled

with a speed before unknown to them

into the forest, as that scream ricocheted and echoed

in our minds. The four of us were terrified,

each envisioning the same thing: “the worst”

whatever that meant to each of us.

Though at twelve years old, the very worst thought I could muster

would never be horrific enough, and never came close to the truth,

because I didn’t know what death meant.

So we just rushed on into the forest, convinced

partially by naivete and partially by desire

that if we ran quickly enough we could escape the truth.

Spiny twigs and thorns littered among dead leaves

stung the soft flesh of my bare feet

but failed to slow me. Each painful step on the forest floor

was motivation to keep moving, until reality

put the finishing touches on a simply stunning concrete wall

of realization. It loomed before us and stopped me

dead in my tracks.

Running wouldn’t help, and so I stood

helplessly and unable to cry.

Cold morning air found its way to my lungs

and my feet found their way back home.

I wondered if we had guests, and what poor timing it would to be

for entertaining visitors, when I saw the driveway filled with cars

Until I registered the unmistakable blue markings

and lights on large white vehicles, silent and looming.

There were no sirens, there were no flashing lights, no ambulance.

There was no emergency, in the eyes of the law,

and I know now it was because you were already gone

and stiller than the cold.

I don't know why I remember

the way Iceberg tasted against Swiss cheese after little specks of pepper

had been scattered across the surface

spat from an old wooden grinder that was worn smooth

where your shaking hands held it

The kitchen watched us

creaking in protest to being woken so late.

The knife begged us to go back to bed,

but sliced obligingly into that two-day-old loaf that held us all together

when I muttered I couldn't sleep

just yet

Something about the way I indulged in those simple tastes

and the relish with which I ate my "funny pieces" -

just bits of chopped cheese and deli meats

that you transformed into something delightful

with just your words and your authority of my world then -

made you know how much I loved you,

right?

I should be writing a memory poem, but that's all that'll come

just now.

We'll see what sober morning can come up with tomorrow. Perhaps it'll actually fit the assignment.

9

Winter Turns to Spring

I.

My icy fingers slip inside your sleeve

and nestle between your warm ones. The satin

lining of your peacoat licks my wrist.

I press my nose against you cheek

chilled like marble from the freezing night

and feel the warmth of my breath reflected upon my lips

as I whisper something nice

to watch you smile.

Our breath hangs in the thin air like fog.

My spine bends my head forward against the chill

and my mouth finds the opening slit in a plastic cup,

then seeks the plump softness of your lips.

The heavy warmth of coffee, thickened

with sugar and cream

will linger on my tongue.

II.

A drop of rain shatters like glass against my nose.

It cools the heat rising in my cheeks

like hives, and my eyelids dart open

to reveal the sky, hued peach and lavender

into my retinas.

The breath of a sigh parts my lips

before the sharp edge of my tooth

can sink into the lower one again.

The warmth of a breeze brushes by my exposed skin

as though to remind me of your absence.

Begging mouths in a prickly nest are the only reminders

that the raven’s wings had ever rested with another’s

in a simpler time when branches were bare

and the coal black feathers sheened blue in the moonlight.

hmm

Baby wombats are some of the cutest critters I've seen. I kind of wish I were at the marsupial rescue center somewhere in Australia, nurturing weird furry orphan creatures...I'd really like to be anywhere else right now.

It's not unpleasant here, really. It's just vastly different from being at home and from the routine of high school that I had become so accustomed to. I suppose I'm still adjusting, still figuring out how things work and how to become self sufficient. I've been feeling dissatisfied, a feeling I'm pretty used to. It's a restlessness that seems permanent, and I can't figure out how to keep myself occupied and happy. I have friends whom I love, weekly meetings of the UNC-W Pride group, trips to the Gypsy and other downtown venues, and a genuine interest in most of my classes. Lounging in my lofted bed, nestled in blankets and browsing the internet and watching TV has been my activity of choice (or necessity) lately, though. It's pretty detrimental to my emotional well-being, I fear. All I can do is wish and want and need and mope. Old habits die hard. I can't stop thinking about what used to be, what I used to have, or what I wish I had. I am so lucky, I know that. So many people don't have the opportunities that I do...I am so fortunate. I am very lucky. So why do I feel this perpetual dissatisfaction? I feel so guilty for feeling this way, yet I can't deny it.

I wonder why I've felt this strong yearning for Her lately. It's likely I yearn for the stability, the comfort, and the security that I felt with her. I long for the kind of relationship that we had. That we had. I don't know why it's so difficult for me to comprehend the importance of the tense of that sentence. Past tense. Had. I'll get it eventually I guess.

Anyway.

I need to meet M. for lunch at Wag before going down to Holden for the afternoon. Later I need to write another poem, which I'm looking forward to. Completing my CRW assignments lately has been a pretty great routine. Mmm. :D

More later, perhaps.

Best,

S-

Poetry

Two assignments for my Intro to Creative Writing class here at UNC-W.

Assignment 1 - We were asked to respond with a poem to this painting: http://anagramseverywhere.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/hopperny-movie.jpg

“Painting Poetry”

His hateful words had chased her from her seat,

and snapping and snarling, they burned her ears.

She cowered now, their prey, with her back pressed against the wall.

A frown bruises her delicate features

as the sharp edge of the wood-paneled wall presses itself against the small of her back.

Deserving, she revels in the pain for an instant,

hyper-aware of the wall edging itself into the delicate space between her vertebrae.

The lamp above her drenches her face in light,

the yellow glow shining gold on her limp hair.

It might have looked angelic.

Gripped in her left hand is a tightly-rolled playbill,

the sweat from her palm softening the papery creases.

She clenches it tighter,

and feels it give way beneath her fist with only a rustle of protest.

She buttons her woolen blue coat to her neck,

and the dampened hem nudges her exposed ankles

like a mangy cat.

Assignment 2 - Here we were asked to create a poem writing about someone who has influenced our view of ourselves / world view / philosophy, drawing upon specific conversations and recalling their words. The style is an homage to this poem: http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2003/09/30

“What She Told Me”

I will tell you what she told me

with her gentle hands alit on my heaving shoulders

those two cool reminders that this wasn’t the end

it’s been worse, she whispered

you’ll get through this

we’ll get through this, we always do, her shaking voice said

maybe to convince herself more than anything

that still night the world stopped spinning

and the air tasted thinner and didn’t satisfy our hungry lungs

and nothing moved in a huge house,

but no one noticed the ear-splitting silence

a heaviness so foreign to us loitered in our space

bearing down and making my skin tingle and my insides squirm

like worms in a bucket, wriggling to be free from a place too crowded

but her warm chocolate eyes invited me back

with an insistence that was motherly

in the way that I needed

I wouldn’t be here without you, I croaked

through cracked lips that I couldn’t quit chewing

and I’d never meant it more.

Interesting, certainly. Enjoy?

Love and light,

S-

pimp juice

I’ve been wanting to write more, but for some reason every time I sit down to do so my mind goes blank, and words refuse to flow onto paper as smoothly as they do in my mind. Now I have my laptop with me at work, and for lack of anything else (interesting) to do, I decided to write. It may be clumsy and not convey my thoughts perfectly, but something is certainly better than nothing. 

Work was unbelievably busy tonight, and with just two of us on the clock, it was intensely stressful. As I sank into the familiar rhythm of politely serving customers, however, I felt the adrenaline rush through my limbs as I struggled to perform my duties with the ever-elusive balance of speed, efficiency, and politeness. Considering we were out of spoons for a short time as well as out of 18 of our 32 flavors, it was quite an effort to please customers. We managed to earn 17 dollars each so far in tips alone, though, so I’m pretty satisfied that we did a good job. I complain about this job a lot, but in truth I’m very attached to it. I wish Caroline realized (and appreciated!) how much M. and I do for this place, though. We both have invested so much heart into this shop..it feels like my baby sometimes! 

Well, it’s nearly 10:30 and I need to help M. clean up and close. I’ll try to add more later, especially considering there are many, many more things on my mind....it’s just that writing about work is easy. Write what you know, they say...

Best.xx

Home again, home again. As predicted, I feel no inspiration to write more...bummer. Perhaps later.

love and light,

S-

You just look like you're wasting away

I miss blogging -

I say that every time, I know, but it's true. I hope to keep it up on a more regular basis, since I find it quite therapeutic and wonderfully cathartic. 

It's been quite the summer. I've experienced things I know I'l never forget, met some simply amazing people, and learned oh so much. I can already picture myself years from now reminiscing on "that one summer, before freshman year of college...remember it? remember him and those nights, and that place..?"

It's gloomy weather out. Clouds hanging fat and sulking overhead, sky grumbling with thunder, and the wind whipping the tree limbs around and swirling the water in the canal into tiny waves, all producing an effect that I would probably find quite beautiful if I didn't feel so gloomy myself. I told him I wouldn't mope. I told him I'm not moping, yet somehow I know I am. I call it reflective, I call it pensive, I call it a variety of things, really. I just don't feel hungry, I say, I'd rather stay in than go out...but he's probably right. It'll pass, won't it? 

I've been invited out, so perhaps I'll end this here. I'm off to indulge myself with ice cream and see what the night holds.

best,

S-

SUPER SCHEDULE

FST 210: Moviemakers and Scholars
SPN 305: Spanish Conversation and Composition
PSY 105: General Psychology
PED 101: Lecture, Health and Wellness
PED 101: Lab, Tai Chi
UNI 111: Freshamn Seminar
CRW 201: Introduction to Creative Writing

SO STOKED!

like a boss

I keep finding myself aching to write, but thus far I have not been able to adequately represent my thoughts. I suppose this will be my feeble attempt..we'll see how I feel by its commencement..

Speaking of commencement, graduation is less than a month away, and I have only six days left of school. It's simply unbelievable. I'm somehow surprised I've made it this far. Sometimes I think back on moments from these past four years and can't believe it all happened in this lifetime. Makes me wonder how different things will be four years from now. What will remain the same?

I feel content.

This weekend has been stellar, as have most days throughout the gently rolling month of May. One school day slips into the next, studded with the interregnum of weekends like these, which are filled with laughs, relaxation, and his bright smile. All is well.

best,
Sus

update

I realized I miss blogging, even though few people read it. Perhaps especially because few people read it...
I find myself bogged down with negativity tonight, nearly on the verge of tears to be honest, so i decided it's time for some positivity. Gotta practice what you preach, so here goes:

Things to be thankful for:
-The friends who've stuck by me, who buy me mango Jarritos and flan, who spend lunch with me even when they don't need something from me, who love to see me smile and revel in my happiness with me
-The one who's made everything a bit easier, who's made every day a bit more filled with smiles, with happiness, with genuine joy, who has truly changed things for me
-Thomas Pynchon's latest novel, due out in August 2009
-Feeling confident about my AP exam performance
-CHHS dance concert
-Having the ability to focus on all that is good in my life
-My amazing, loving, supportive family!!!
-Being tucked in at night and having his bright smile being the last sight before sleep overtook my body
-The new friends I've met / the Q bldg /Monday night throwdowns
-Prom 2009!
-Graduating (we hope. xD)
-The view from my bedroom
-Having had the experiences I have.
-The bounty gained from Mum's trip to IKEA....mmm, Skarpor...!

This helped.
Love and light,
S-

pu$$y m0ney w33d

Oh, how I miss blogging.
I wish my bumpin' social life left more time for it..! :rolls eyes: It would be better if it left more time for LIT. HOMEWORK, to be honest..

Chalk it up to the perfect weather, this mug of warm tea, or whatever you will, but there's been a smile plastered on this face for quite a while now...I'm really starting to like it.

Life spent piling 8 people into the Lincoln, blasting music, smoking a Parliament Light through a sly grin is pretty ideal. Lounging on the grass outside Weaver Street, flirting with - hell, everyone - and stealing Mel's pretzels...Lying around practicing "DrewZen," enjoying dinner at the coolest Ukrainian household in the world, jogging for the hell of it, dreaming of /her/, stroking /her/ hair, teasing /him/ about his, picnicking with junkfood and 40oz's, holding hands, strolling through nature, falling in love..

It's working. It sure as hell works for this girl.

Love and light,
S-

Dime que es mentira todo, Un sueño tonto y no mas...

Tell me it's all a lie
A silly dream and nothing more


Hello there.
I'm lying in bed, half-watching some Family Guy re-run and listening to sweet songs in Spanish...
Today was a bit rocky, and I am feeling very sick on top of it all. I can't stop coughing and sniffling, and my sinuses and head ache. Aaaatractive.
Unfortunately, I realize now I don't have anything of any importance to say. Just wanted to complain for a hot minute.

<3
S-

Well, well.

It's time for a more proper update of sorts.
I wonder -- though it changes little my actions -- if anyone other than myself reads this.
No matter.

I've been introduced to some great new music lately. It's just what I need, because even set to shuffle, my iPod plays nothing but songs drenched in old memories. Long gone memories, hackneyed memories, ones I've pushed to the back of my mind in order to avoid.
It's been getting easier, really. It's not often I let my mind wander back to those days of old, and less and less often do I yearn for them. I feel relieved and free. Most of the time...
Now I have many new songs glazed liberally with sugary new memories. I've taken to a few meaningful, well-done tracks in addition to my usual helping of silly rap phenomenons. Lil Ru's "Nasty Song" and Soulja Boy's "Kiss Me Through the Phone" are quite the guilty pleasure, though.

I learned today how one's leg would get stanky, thus enabling one to perform the stanky legg. Lolz were had indeed.

This weekend was quite wonderful, though admittedly tiring. Friday afternoon I took D. and A. to Morrisville with me for the NC Fashion Week audition. They both did quite well and made me proud. I have my hopes up that we will all do the show together. The audition ran late, but I still rushed home, changed into higher heels and a matching top, and drove downtown. I moseyed into the club and was met with warm air, warm bodies, warm clove cigarettes and a warm, warm hug.
Friday night was severely quality. 'Nuff said? ;]
I remember precisely how I was woken up on Saturday 'morning' (we weren't about to get out of bed before noon, haha). It was a simply wonderful way to wake up.
The better part of the day was spent lying quietly in bed, good company, good music, hot sunshine streaming in. One hand on the keyboard, one hand on his; resting, smiling, dozing, giggling. Relaxing.

It's late yet.
I've forgotten how much I do love William Fitzsimmons. Memories be damned..!
I have a warm mug of tea waiting for me and perhaps a marzipan sweet if I'm lucky.
Only time will tell.

With love and light,
S-

silliness

I can't wait to see him again.
In the meantime, quotable quotes:

"no like the smoke blends in with your natural very pleasant aroma and it smells like hotboxing a spring valley"

"for about a week he was completely serious about building a catapult to throw squirrels he trapped, but he noticed he had not trapped any.... so he spent sleepless nights on squirrel trapping websites and looking up youtube videos about it while sharpening a knife, it was kind of terrifying really"

"man, someone needs some emergency vodka!"


best,
S-

valentine's day, v. 2.0

was simply divine.
oh, simple joys.
thank you.
i can't stop thinking about that night. selves shared, eyes locked, beautiful.
i won't ruin it with my clumsy words...

best,
S-

P.S. ~ Fashion Week blog in the works.

all i want to do is write and cry, cry and write.
too bad that's quite unpractical.
NYC was perfect; coming back to real life not so much.
let me get some work done, I'll write more later.

there is always light.
S-

Will you still meet me on the sunny road?

I hate the moments when I lost sight of all that is simple and perfect.

I fear that lately I have been too passive with my life. I've chosen to let life happen to me as it may instead of making proactive choices that have cause-and-effect consequences. I suppose this isn't entirely a bad  thing, but it had yielded some - well, not earth-shattering, but certainly less-than-desirable outcomes. Now I find myself wondering how to set things straight, seeing as my "wait things out" strategy isn't the most effective. 

Now that I really take a chance to think about it, things are pretty wonderful. These 'setbacks' pale in comparison to all the wonderful happenings of late. In the past few weeks I have had experiences that I will never forget...I have discovered how loved and cared for I am. I have laughed until I cried. I successfully completed and /turned in on time/ a very challenging Lit. assignment. I have fallen only to discover there still are people there to catch me. I really am so thankful. 

All the best,

S- 

...

I haven't been able to write lately.
Somehow it's easy for me gripe on for pages when things aren't going well, but when I am happy, satisfied, and ceaselessly smiling, words seem to escape me.
Perhaps this is indicative of my mood lately.
Life is good. All is well. I am happier than I have been in a long time.

AND I am going to New York in t-minus 5 days!

I am the tall oak tree
I am the jungle stream
I am the morning sun
smiling on everyone...
<3

[my] long white fingers slither and glide

I am going to concentrate. I am determined to focus and to succeed: I will accept no less from myself. Of course, my hopes are not high. I let myself down all too frequently.
While I wait in limbo, monitoring each effect closely for some indication that this is working, I've decided writing would be a good way to settle my nerves and loosen me up in preparation for my Lit. work.

I carefully choose a playlist of music, hating that every song of the hundreds I have downloaded has a meaning and intense memories attached to it. I need new music so badly...I'm tired of suffering through the same memories and being assaulted with the same thoughts as familiar tunes drift from my speakers. My mind effortlessly recites every lyric, my lips dumbly move to the words.
I know somehow this entry will not be an accurate reflection of my thoughts and feelings regarding the past week...I have been blissfully content, although this will surely not convey that. It is nothing in the "grand scheme" of things, I know that. Yet of course I have let my ever-changing emotions take control, leaving me feeling helpless and lost.

My palms sweat, my whole body is rigid with anticipation of the great mood alteration I seem to be expecting. I feel nothing but an odd and surreal calm...is this the "zombie state" I was warned about? I am not focusing, I am not getting anything important done. I'm sitting in a chair, blogging about my pitiful emotions and nodding my head in time to Kate Nash diddies.

More soon.

Update, 7:01 - Desired effects still not fully achieved. HOWEVER, one assignment completed. :] Plan to begin assignment two shortly, after breaking for Seinfeld and possibly snacks. Will succeed.
Maybe.
<3

rock me, mama, like the wind and the rain...

I find myself faced with yet another Monday.

saturday night

Here I am, on the edge of some proverbial seat
feeling unsettled and restless, yet I can't summon the will to do anything but sit around and feel sorry for myself.

We made a day trip to Wilmington for the Meet and Greet at STW, which was fun and successful. On the way home Mum and I made a pit stop at Plato's Closet, where I bantered with the staff and acquired a nice pair of black jeans and two pairs of shoes. Score.
The pleasant effects of retail therapy didn't last long, though, and now I'm back to being grumpy and lonely.
I feel consumed by all the things I wish and want and feel somehow unable to feel thankful.
Luckily, I know it will pass.
Still
I wish it were summer -
I wish the air were warm and balmy and sweet, the foliage green and lush
I wish the phone would ring -
I wish I didn't feel cooped up, unsettled, uneasy, used and lonely.


love,
S-

thursday evening

After reluctantly climbing out of the most wonderful and soothing bath, I was overcome with the desire to write...
I had been feeling achy and quite emotionally under the weather all day. I was tired of feeling so on edge, and this time even old Seinfeld episodes and Swedish baked goods couldn't chase away my blues. Resolving to try a last resort, I rummaged around for a few candles and drew a bath. As the water warmed, I lit the candles and dimmed the lights, already beginning to feel more at ease.
It's a beautiful feeling, sliding into the warm water and feeling it caress your skin like a lover's touch. I closed my eyes and let my body just feel...the warmth seeped into my very being, and every time I fluttered my eyes open I was met with the sight of softly burning candles.
Mmm...it was just what I needed.

He's supposed to be coming to town tomorrow. Knowing me, I will dutifully wait for his call and jump at the slightest vibration, imagining it's the phone. :grin: I really must rein myself in.

Well, I suppose I'm off with a yawn and a stretch to peruse the kitchen for a bit of cake.
Here's to a great tomorrow - !

All the best,
S-

wonderful weekend

This weekend has been simply wonderful and the perfect way to wind down from last week's stress.

The school day on Friday ended with an inward scream of joy, followed by an unfortunate and very FREEZING trip to the barn. As we always do, MR. and I settled into our chilly work quite quickly, and soon all our tasks had been completed. After rushing home to change clothes, I was off again. Auditions for the NC Fashion Week went great; I can't wait to hear back. For once, I really felt as though I knew what I was doing and that I really had a chance! ;]

I began this entry several days ago, and somehow it's already Wednesday..!! Re-capping the whole weekend now seems tough; so much happened!! I slept in every morning, and relished in the comfort only a warm comforter on a cold morning can bring...

I've taken to re-playing my favorite bits of the weekend over and over like a giddy lovesick schoolgirl (guilty?) ;] ...

Saturday night was filled with much-needed quality time with A., which was amazing. We sat in Starbucks, sipping a frozen drink as the ground froze outside and chatted everything from petty gossip to true love. It was wonderful to finally have some quality us time, and I'm so happy to have had her as a friend for as long as I have. Ever since things got sticky for her and MW on Sunday, though, I haven't seen her...
Sunday afternoon was full of anticipation and giddy excitement. After a shady exchange, MP and I dropped by KG's house to chill with her and TS. Later while MR, MP and DA relaxed, KG, TS and I snuck upstairs for a little inhale-able fun. [:grin: I'm not cheesy at all or anything.] After we'd had out fill, we trooped downstairs and left with the gang to meet up at the Cradle. The R. girls seemed to enjoy the ride over as I developed and demonstrated what I then dubbed "thumb artistry," as Soulja Boy blasted from the Lincoln's speakers.
The whole show had a dream-like quality. The dark, sparse room of the Cat's Cradle is becoming increasingly familiar, and I remember walking in and allowing the familiarity wash over me wave by wave. I shyly approached the stage, watching him work. He's beautiful: in his element - dark complexion caressed with red light, long slender fingers moving deftly across the tables. I watched him, eyes wide (pupils wider?), for a few moments until he noticed me and slunk over with his Chesire cat grin for a quick kiss...
The rest of the dance passed quickly, as I accepted a few dance propositions and otherwise bidded my time in the secret lounge. I had never known that was a real window...
:grins inwardly:
Monday afternoon was nothing short of magical, especially for a Monday. It's been running through my head since, on some sort of instant reply - In Sepia, because everything is even more romantic in Sepia. I would doze forever on that chest with Seinfeld reruns playing softly in the background...if only, if only!
Monday night's adventure's were also severly quality. Who knew there's a little tavern in the back of the Super Suds..? Turns out there is, and MP, DA, and I had a grand time there shooting pool, making ridiculous sexual jokes, and being entirely too loud in front of the cranky old "bar keep." We lost at least one cue ball, discussed the difference in "hair's bredth" and hare's breath," and learned that I definitely have a career in professional pool playing.

Somehow it's already nearly midnight, and I must be off. I'll leave you a few noteworthy quotes to ponder.


Seinfeld -
"George: She invited me up. Coffee's not coffee, coffee is sex.
Elaine: Maybe coffee was coffee.
George: Coffee's coffee in the morning, it's not coffee at twelve o clock at night.
Elaine: Well some people drink coffee that late.
George: Yeah, people who work at NORAD, who're on twenty-four hour missile watch."

Daniel -
"You kill the runway, it was so cool to see everyone's expressions..."

him -
"I woke up thinking you were beside me.."

One day, baby.
In love and light,
S-

looking for salvation

Sitting quietly in Stanfa's room, listening to Pandora. I had forgotten how much I love Pandora.

The past few days have been a bit hectic and stressful, partially due to the academic stressors which accompany the ending of the semester. I knew it would be hard to put it off any longer, so L. and I finally had 'the talk.' No, not the baby talk or the break up talk, before you jump to conclusions. The talk talk. In a way I expected it to make me feel more comfortable and secure with everything, but no such feelings were reached, at least to the extent I expected. I'm still so glad it finally happened, even though not much new was established...

I'm having trouble expressing my feelings articulately. 

I can't get him out of my head...

He didn't call when he said I would. I wish I could stop putting so much pressure of this, on myself, on us...lest it become everything NEITHER of us want. 

This is not going to make sense to anyone but me. That's okay.

I'm loving this ride..new sights around every corner, enough to keep me on the edge of my seat each fucking moment.

Long live this...

xo and all the best,

S-

hasty update

"Ima hit you from the back, Ima hit you from the-
Ima hit you from the back and make you holler 'til you pass out."

You approach a four-way intersection regulated by a traffic light. The dark night air presses in around you, and the only light comes from your own dim headlights and the red glow of the traffic signal. You approach hesitantly, and dutifully check each of the other three roads, noting not a single soul. Does your unwavering instinct to abide the law cause you to stop until the light changes, or do you instead rationalize the choice to continue on..? I was surprised by my own

Eh.
I've recently become an avid 3oh!3 listener. The shit's pretty damn catchy, I recommend it. Specifically "Starstrukk" and "Holler 'till You Pass Out."

All day I've stumbled around in a strange daze, muscles I didn't know I HAD aching and my stomach turning in objection to my beverage choices of the night before. I bite back a grin as snippets of last night come flooding back...MP and I sat side by side in the darkness of the parking lot, raising our glasses to the joys that came to mind. Here's to being on the same page...and Lisa! Here's to living to good life! ... Rejuvenated, we grabbed our things and picked our way through the parking lot to the Nightlight. I'd never been there before and appreciated the barren but intimate vibe. The red X drawn hastily on our palms didn't keep us from sneaking sips from a particularly suspicious looking OJ bottle as we lounged on an old couch and I snuck glances at the stage. He was wearing those glasses, the ones I've become so attached to. I tried to tear my eyes away from the concentrated look on his face, the effortless ease of his movements. My mind began to swim and MP pulled me on to the floor...I danced and danced and got lost in the music and the familiarity of her touch. My condition deteriorated all too quickly, however, and before I knew it, I could berely remain standing. It was unbelievable...ugh. I am so thankful tothose three girls who dragged my ass to MP's car and stayed with me as...well, as the potion worked it's magic.

Home again, I made a few regretable phone calls, but at the end of the night, all was more or less fine. I awoke several times in the night, but was very pleased with a video I recieved when I finally rolled out of bed. Cutest. thing. Ever.
Thank you, boo.


Aaah. I'm hungry, fianlly.

Love and light,
S-

bass pumpin'

heart thumpin'
brain?

Listening to 'Moon Shoes' and trying to keep my mind from racing out of control. My sluggish body is not match for my ever-energetic mind...

There is so much I want to say, and to explain, and to understand.
It's been a very eventful few days, to say the least...
Damnit, I simply cannot articulate anything properly tonight..!
He's met the family..!!
Wow.
More later, I promise.


xo,
Susannah

" I am in blood -

Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er."
-Macbeth, Shakespeare.

Life is good, it is, it is.



"
- oh sus, i'm falling in love with you all over again.
^^aww. <3
"

I have two big hands and a heart pumping blood...

First things first, happy 2009!
It's been a very pleasant year so far, all two days of it. :D

.sightings.
- S. and M. arriving at MP.'s house Wednesday evening. The two were soon seen leaving the house with MP. and LE., returning later with giggles and suspicious brown paper bags. Later, A. arrived and left with S. and M.
- A giddy-looking S., M., and A. arriving just before midnight at one of the hottest New Year's Eve parties of the night. The expected usuals were all present, in addition to youngsters CR, SP, and MP. The former three left late that night with a few extras in tow. New Years kisses for all? If you're someone, you already know!
- S. and L. hopping venues Thursday evening. First spotted at the Mansion, the two later were spotted sharing a couch and chatting at East End wine bar. Looks like someone got a New Year kiss after all!
- E. and MP. leaving Richardson Lane soon after 2am on Friday morning. Is love in the air for E. and M.?

Love,
S-