Ho hum...

warm cheeks and wistful thoughts
such a frenzy within me
your comments have brought
some connection to you
I strive for, obsess
yet I only receive
a bit more than less
I'll take what I can
you know this to be true
only one man could do this
it could only be you

Would You Publish Maiden?

Let's find out. I've decided to amplify some of my fiction ideas into full forced stories. I've finally been feeling like myself after having two kids in the past two years. What a fuckin' ride it's been. But now that I've gotten my breeding out of the way I feel it's time to focus on my writing. Breeding and Writing... there's a title right there. Anyways, those of you that still come by here from Bane's recommendation: thanks... and stuff. I've been posting a lot of fluff lately. All I've had room for in my head was fluff. The 'whogivesashit' kind of posts. But now I have time (and wine) to myself at night and the words are all coming back to me.

I love writing.

So the fluff will continue, but the fun fiction stuff I'll keep to myself. If this motivation stays with me I'll let you know when the book is out. Could be a couple of years, could be five or ten. Could be never. But hell, the more I read current fiction the less intimidated I am by the competition. I don't mean to insult writers everywhere, the mere fact that the authors I'm referring to have been published means that they are better than me. For now. I'm young, I don't know what I'm doing, and I'm in over my head. I feel strangely comfortable.

Oh My Gir

This compilation is a little intense, especially if Gir is new to you. But I just watched it and was startled by how much my little Gremlin is like Gir. It all makes sense now, she really is my evil minion from outer space. Exactly 2 minutes and 54 seconds into it is the most accurate comparison of the two.

Play Metallica and They Will Calm

Lately I've been trying to only listen to peaceful music like Enya and Iron & Wine. I don't even like Enya, but I'll resort to anything to bring peace into my life right now. I guess I've just been hoping that it will help keep my stress down. When both kids start crying in the car I desperately scroll through my iPhone to find Enya and they just raise their volume that much more to drown out the weaker sounds in the car. Obviously it wasn't really doing the trick. So the other day in the car I threw Ride the Lightning on. The Gremlin immediately stopped hollering as loud as she could and started banging her head. The Amoeba hushed his crying and sniffled quietly while listening to the intricacies of the music. That's when I realized that I just need to be true to myself. My kids love metal, and that's why I continue to allow them to thrive. Amoeba was in the womb during a Metallica concert, so he's got that going for him. I think my children just have a need to dominate. Don't know where they'd get that from... So I just need to take the more aggressive approach with them. Even though I want to foster a healthy environment for budding megalomaniacs, they still need to respect the fact that they must first bow to me.
But those little fuckers will suck the life right out of me if I let 'em. Don't worry, I will prevail.

I'm a good mom.

Atreyu does the trick, too.

Sleep Now

and gently hold yourself
the lonely embrace of a lover lost
not in death but in life
lost in a crowded world of hatred
the bombs shudder the floor beneath you
I shudder at the thought
and wish I could hold you

Let The Rage In Me Subside

I suffer in the breath of a sigh
I sigh more than I mean to
It can always be worse
But the pain in the moment
Is more than I can bare

America's Next Top Couch Potato

I got cable for the first time in 6 years and I've been watching all of the rediculous reality shows. So far my favorite one is America's Next Top Model. I want to go down to LA and try out. I would so kick ass. You don't even have to be that pretty! Tyra would send all the other girls home as soon as she saw me...

But then I would have to get off of my couch. And lose 30 pounds. And sell my soul. America's just not ready for me anyways.

Every Day

Is like a marathon.

Well, I had a second to post something, that's a good sign.

I wish I had more time to play video games.

Husband, I know you're like, sucking in the desert right now... but... wanna trade? At least the men that you're looking after can wipe their own asses. I hope. You know, Husband, if you do stop by here you could leave a comment now and then so that I know you're out there. Sigh.

Time to go melt into a puddle while the kiddo's gear up for torturing me the rest of the day.

'Til next time.

Candle Lit Blogging

My power is out. This is awesome. Thank god I picked up a couple new books today. Well, the kids are both sleeping and I can't foresee this being an emergency quite yet so I'm going to try and relax.

It has been about an hour, though... This is America!!! How long's it gonna take?! Sigh.


Blogged from my iPhone.

I Miss You.

it was always your smile
...or maybe your hair
you had those cool

sideburns

we drank a lot of coffee then
a lot of coffee
now we drink

booze

I loved the way it felt
to run my nose
up your neck and kiss your

ear

now I have your pillow
and I can't wash the sheets
because I don't want to lose your

smell

we always said we
wanted to be together forever
now we just say we wish we could be

together

I would study your face
not wanting to forget any detail
now I can't see you as clearly without a

photograph

it's been too long
since you've held me
yet it will be so much

longer

and I will always wait
wait wait wait wait wait

for

you

It's Funny When

You're nursing your newborn in the living room and you realize you haven't seen or heard your toddler for about a minute, and when you go check on her she's happily splashing in the toilette water in your bedroom bathroom where you forgot to close the door. Yeah, the toilette you never clean because guests never use that bathroom.

At least I had actually flushed the last time I used it... It could always be worse.

And I almost forgot! It's also funny when, in the same day, your toddler gets her hands on one of the newborns crappy diapers, opens it up and plays with the poo-covered wipes. Now you know why I call her my Filth-Child.

It's weird to refer to the Gremlin as 'her'. She's always been an 'it', but now I feel I need to help differentiate between the two Gremlins... change is hard. 'She' is still an 'It' to me. I can't help but think of my children as creatures: they're so bizarre and sometimes gelatinous, but mostly they're altogether foreign to me. They're like little aliens, visiting us to try and assume some semblance of human behavior. Little, angry, messy, loud aliens...

God, I hate kids.

No, you shouldn't have.

I shouldn't have eaten all of that pizza.
I shouldn't have scarfed down those brownies.
I definitely shouldn't have drank that wine...
What a fuckin' day.
I shouldn't have muttered, underneath my breath, that my newborn son shut the fuck up.
What kind of woman am I if I can't carry all of this on my shoulders?
Army wife.
24.
Weak.
Maybe, just maybe...
The heat is getting to me.
Or maybe...
The things that are really getting to me,
are the
silence
fear
shame
pain.
I should be sleeping.
Oh, how I fall short.

Yesterday I went to the post office to send my husband his boots, a set of sheets... some books. I loaded my spawn into the double stroller. Alpha Gremlin hadn't shit in a couple of days, she was grumpy. Beta Gremlin slept sweetly in his seat like a good little amoeba. Business was slow at the post office so I just jumped right in line, figuring I would see the next available clerk. But, even though it was slow they kept to the system and called the next NUMBER. The middle aged, grey-haired, fat man that had entered after me caught on and swept in front of me to grab his precious number. I snarled at him and reached out to grab my number. The selfish, greedy bastard had ripped the paper so hurriedly that the next tab of paper didn't come out. I stood there, toddler crying in the Cadillac, juggling the heavy box meant for husband, thumbing at the little paper that held my number. I couldn't get it out. I cursed aloud. Fuck fuck fuck. People stared. I started to cry. People averted their eyes. I stood close to the counter, the lady called the fat man's number. He looked down at his envelope, filling out an address, and said: I'm not ready yet... help the next person. Who the fuck are you? The lady looked at me with a vacant smile, I said her number dispenser wasn't working. She waved me up. My eyes stung. I placed my box on the counter. My lip quivered. My brain wasn't working as well as it normally does. She needed the address for shipment. Right.. get it together. I placed my iPhone on the counter with Husband's deployment address lit up on the touch screen. She spoke slowly and said that if I could just fill out the contents list she would help me get it taken care of. This isn't me. Why can't I pull my shit together? She told me that she has two sons deployed in Afghanistan and if I ever need anyone to talk to, just come on in and she'll help me. How fucking pathetic must I have looked... According to her, though, it's more difficult to have sons deployed than a husband. Thanks, lady, I'll seek my help from elsewhere, you can sit on your throne of grief just as well without people like me coming to look up to you.

Husband called me last night. One of the first things he said: Have you already sent that package I left for you? I might need you to hold off on it since we'll be moving to a different location...

Yes, honey. I sent the package.

Drink up, baby.