Procrastination is looming.  It’s looking over my left shoulder wondering when my chair will get scratchy and these two dangling things at the bottom of my legs will get restless.  I refuse to give in.  Peter Gabriel is telling me something about your eyes.  As much as procrastination loves listening to the radio, it’s in the best interest of everything else to put on some chamber music.  Anything sans lyrics.  Lyrics fuel the growth of procrastination.  Especially when the stereo has mysteriously turned itself up loudly and the dangling things want to move quickly about the floor.  Chair dancing.

There is this spot in my belly that is shouting at me.  Someone would tell me to do something about it because he can smell hunger on my breath.  Gads, if he can smell hunger I wonder what else that hounds nose can smell.  Do you think he can smell ovulation?  I wouldn’t doubt it.  <insert taboo here> Does any other woman experience a musky scent when ovulating?  I’m  not sure if this is normal but it actually cranks my libido to 11.  The scent, that is.  Then it’s all juicy and fat and that makes for half a day spent in bed.  Which makes me think about what happened to me the other night.  My head still hangs in horrific shame.  So I’m asleep…as much as sleep holds my attention…in a new environment.  An environment where one will go out of his/her (mostly her I would think) way to avoid all involuntary bodily expulsions.  Better known as farting.  Yeah.  Just at the moment my brain was entering into a coma my ass decides to rip one off.  I woke up so suddenly and so mortified I screamed. AHHHHH! or maybe it was YO!  I can’t remember but my shame is still very real.  Good thing it didn’t scare the shit out of me… Appreciation and gratitude to the powers that be that it didn’t smell bad.  My mortification would have been crawling home using my very own hands and knees.  I vow to NEVER eat wheat again!  It felt so good to get home and fart all day.  I think I lost 5 lbs. in air.


The smell of rain rose with the sun, blowing through my window on the pink rays of morning. The clouds roll over the edge of the world, hiding the dawn sun. My breath mixes with the wet breeze as my eyes drift  from laden dreams. Warm, hypnotic nakedness swoons beneath the sheets as the rogue wind whispers its desire. Tender flesh swells beneath my sexed fingers, reviving a morning smile.

Tender lips purse together dry and thirsty. The want of wet flesh yearning for your ubiquity.

untitled mess (drafted early 2010)

The panic grips my chest, shaking me into reality. But I’m paralyzed. Instead, I shallow breathe. I plunk myself farther and farther away, the distance disturbingly comforting. Take it all away, my mind says deep inside me. Take it all away. Depression, repression, impression, compression, oppression. I think I need some sunshine.

No more today. No more tomorrow. Just no more. If that darkness took over when I closed my eyes, you wouldn’t be here with me anymore.

Midlife o_O great

OK – I must be going through a mid-life crisis.  VERY similar to that of John Cusack in High Fidelity.  The only difference is that I’m not coming out of a fresh break-up.  The way this is working out for me is traveling back into time, google mapping the neighbourhood I grew up in.  It all started with my mother sending me a link to a fantasy.  The fantasy being a house I will buy in Sterling Heights, Michigan where I grew up.  Which prompts all the memories, good and bad, and fosters this emotional conundrum.  I had to quickly close the map.  With the satellite view I could see that tree that I had a love/hate relationship with.  All the other places my friends and mortal enemies lived.  Even the sand parks that the weird kids pee’d in are still there.  I wonder if those concrete tubes still stink.

So this midlife mapping led to a phone call to one of the closest people in my life at that time.  We spent over an hour on the phone this morning, reminiscing, catching up, being real.  It wasn’t one of those conversations where you talk about surface bullshit.  We talked about struggling with the kids, his being single for so long, our friends and those bastards he still hangs out with.  I moved away when I was twelve (hence the bio) and I lost all contact with everyone.  It still has an effect/affect.  I still have feelings of being not incomplete but displaced.  That I haven’t found my grounding because of something I had no control over.  So now  I spend time reconnecting with my past.  Some people will roll their eyes, tell me to close those chapters but I’m not going to.  Especially with K.  I’ve known him since the minute he was born.  He’s family.  I once knocked his brothers teeth out with a baseball bat.  They always made me play Princess Leia when we played Star Wars because I was the girl.  I hated them for that.  I wanted to be Chewbucca.  Chauvinist jerks.

My daughter keeps telling me that I’m trying to relive my childhood.  Can you imagine?  The last thing I want to do is relive my shitty childhood.  I can’t remember most of it for a reason.  I don’t know why I want to reconnect.  Isn’t it possible it’s because we actually can now?  Or that I want to experience these kids I grew up with as adults?  Is it so wrong to live my life here and still love the good, the bad and the ugly?  Secretly though, I admit to the possibility of finding my true love.  Anything in life is possible.  Even if it is ridiculous.

zzzzzip…carolina is my procrastination

what I have learned ::

i want to grow with love within a healthy environment

that love can be found after many years and many miles walked

that I want to wear that ring of commitment regardless of how much it scares me

that living an authentic life means making sacrifices even if others don’t see it that way

creating scenes in my head is not the same as creating them in life

sometimes I deny the richness of life because I feel I don’t deserve it

little kids love eating other people’s whipped cream

that there will likely be many typos in this post

that being unreasonable doesn’t mean being confronting, it means stepping outside of myself to experience a difference

that I will go back and correct all my typos

that I am aware of my procrastination and will stop it right now.