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i am thankful for so many things. food, family, friends, letters, music, guitars, texting, wifi, sisters, gravy, best friends, lovers, star trek, books, halfprice books, rice, turkey, beef, cows, fruit, gum, cameras, christmas lights, spongebob, toothbrushes, tongues, couches, cold weather, gingersnaps, slippers, thrifting, macbooks, tortellini, cooking, pencils, socks, boys, (boys? what is this doing on this list?) boys, redbox, cars, paint, aunts, ukeleles, birthdays, apples, gala apples, shoes, taylor university, pennyloafers, stamps, porcupines, sand, journals, & tea.

the other day i was thinking about the word vulnerable. the context of this word is a relationship. when i was thinking of this word, i saw a certain picture in my head. i’ve found that everytime i say or think this word, this picture comes to mind. when i think of a relationship with a guy, i see myself as being the most vulnerable. a point where i open myself up so much that i am very easily hurt. my norm is not a easily hurt extremely sensitive person. i am a sensitive person, i will listen to you, i will always take myself to where you are a relate to you at that point. that is just how i am. yet i will act tough and always have a wall around that stupid place thats called a heart, where the emotions come from. and if i open up to you, and become vulnerable, it should mean something to you.

a relationship.

jesus. ok lets look to see what webster says.

1. a connection, association, or involvement.
2. an emotional or other connection between people

imagine yourself. now imagine yourself being tough for so many years. listening and liking someone, and opening up to them because you like them and you want them to know how you are in the inside. now imagine your tough self going up to this person and snuggling up close to them. your face is hiding in their shoulder, and you are leaning into them, and whether or not their arms are around you doesn’t matter. to me this is the ultimate form of vulnerability; this picture.

when i like someone, i try and picture myself in the shoes of the vulnerable person and the person i like in the shoes of the person that is the strong one.

can i see it? yes? ok, maybe this is something more than “like”

can i see it? no? ok, lets back off.

i think the worst thing is ignoring the “no” and pretending its a “yes” and giving your vulnerable self to someone that doesn’t understand their important role. like salt onto a red open sore.

thus, you become tougher, and you don’t trust your vulnerability with anyone, even if it seems right.

i’m pondering all the ways you can be in love, as if love was a thing tangible you could get inside of, like a sleeping bag, or like a warm plaid peacoat.

or falling out of love, like it was  a moving car, or an airplane (like that csi episode of the lady being pushed out of the plane and her shoe causing it to crash; disastrous). or falling off an sled just as it speeds up faster and faster and landing face first in the cold, frozen snow. or what we used to do as kids, getting in the hot tub and jumping into the pool. hot; cold.

can one be on the side of love? like sitting next to a very old tree with a book, reading, enjoying one another’s company but not asking anything of eachother. or standing next to a sky scraper looking up and up cracking your neck expecting something wonderful to happen when you see the top; and ending up with a feeling of dizziness and nausea.

to be near love might like the horse you always wanted and dreamed about and asked santa for and wrote stories about; but when you got older you realised the more practical thing would be to want a car. you meet someone and you want them so bad and you dream about them yet you never really pause to stop of the practical things; stables, horse manure, the care and the hard work to keep the horse. wow, uh, that sounds really coarse, but do you see my point?

and of course, when you fall in love, and then fall out of love, (what is with the falling? we sound either like leaves or flightless birds)  you want to find the way back into love. (watched music and lyrics yesterday, forgiveness please) Love is that one section of books at that really lovely large old library that you can never quite find again. and you search and search and start wondering if you made up that wonderful peaceful section by the bay windows, with the lacey curtains and the view across the city.

Love lost is like all of those hair ties and bobby pins and pens that you buy so much of yet continue to loose over and over again. maybe thats too pesimistic. Love lost is like your favorite pair of socks of which one sock is missing and it drives you crazy looking for it; you take all the clothes out of your dresser and end up dropping some bags off at Goodwill. Love lost is like the letter someone wrote to you that you desperately want to find again yet you know that it was thrown away; you just blot out that memory and deny that its in some land fill rotting or was recycled to make something new.

maybe the point of love lost is that it always will be found again or make someone else very happy. hmm.

i am basking in similies and metaphors.


cannot stop singing and playing this song.

Come up to meet you, tell you I’m sorry
You don’t know how lovely you are

I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I’ve set you apart

Tell me your secrets
And ask me your questions
Oh, let’s go back to the start


18th birthday advetures of cally and melissa(:

and I don’t know where to start
and I don’t know where to start
you might think its easy but
you might find differently,
you play me like you play poker
you lay down your cards and
leave with all the money
you know too much about me but
i don’t know
i don’t know!
i do know if you got me started
i’d go on
and who’d be
who’d be listening to me


its a rainy day today. there is a black umbrella in my bag.

this pastel is either entitled, chasing pavements, solitude, man in black, or something else; etc, etc, etc.

i like to call it, going to meet me.