Tag: writing

Happy Obligation Day

Every store has circulars and signs explaining how best to use your money to prove your love for your mother. Instead of being inspiring, these endless suggestions make Mother’s Day seem like an obligation.

And like Victory Gin, holidays of obligation leave a bitter taste.

I Remember

I Remember

Sometimes I stand in the shower

Cold water turned off

Scalding water raining down on me like cinders

My skin goes through a transformation

Milk white, then new born pink, then cattle brand red

In that moment when all the blood rushes up and my skin threatens to bubble,

I remember

I remember the cords around my wrists

The way the sap from the stake penetrated the hand spun cotton of my dress.

How many people there were gawking, both aroused and appalled

Hiding behind and covering their eyes with their holy claims.

The urgency in their eyes,

the hunger that would have pulled my meat from the bone if the flames didn’t take.

I remember the rush of heat, of pain, of cosmic elation as the smoke found a new home in my lungs,

throwing out all the oxygen that has once resided there.

It thickened my blood and blocked my nose,

Fervent prayers weighing down the blanket of flame

that consumed me.

I remember I was gone before the body was done,

before my meat and fat had melted like candle wax

the salivating audience ,ready for my ashes got them on their tongue

proof they saw an abomination erased, stayed until the moon rose high

my body becoming the smoke that itched their nose and stayed in their clothes for weeks to come.

I remember they put my remains with the animal waste

and then wondered why their crops didn’t return, even with the manure.

I remember the cries of hunger, of pain, of violation as the little village

became nothing more than an empty field again.

You say you’re the granddaughters of the witches they forgot to burn.

I was burned.

And I remember.


Poetry has long been a love of mine.

It started with my love of country music. In grade school, I was convinced I was going to grow up to be a songwriter. I’d write song after song, no music just lyrics. It wasn’t until I was in the middle of my depressive preteen years that I figured out, lyrics with out music are just a poem. I devoured poems (and paper writing my own) throughout my teenage and young adult years. Then adult life struck and being a mom and wife forced my writing to go into hibernation. That seems to be changing now. Some of it has to do with reading Lisa Lister’s  book Witch. Some of it has to do with having some amazing friends who inspire me every day to be more authentic. Some of it is because I’m waking up. And I’m thankful for it all.

#wakethewitches

 

 

 

Power Outages

Some people say that when you are open to it, the Universe guides you. That it gives you gifts, like a mama cat leaving a half dead mouse on your pillow. It knows you need the nourishment, but even more so, that you need the experience.  The limitations of my experiences kept me for totally agreeing that was gospel. I think too much, second guess myself too often. And that’s clogged up my ability to see and review these gifts from the Universe. That is until this happened. This chain linked series of events opened my eyes and showed me that, if you pay attention sometimes you get just what you need to be laid right out in front of you.

In the early hours of a Tuesday morning, some unlucky bastard ran his car off the road and into a tree. The driver was fine, but the tree was not. It had found itself a brand new home by crashing into a substation that supplied power to a large section of this small town. That power outage split the lumbering county in half. The northern half had power, while those to the south were without.

It was on that Tuesday morning I had an appointment out in the southeastern part of town. I don’t follow local news so I had no idea there was a widespread power outage. My only concern was getting two kids into a car and being able to make an 8:45 am appointment. Ever try to get two kids under the age of 5 ready and out the door in a quick and timely manner? Yeah, it’s about as easy as tying snakes in knots. Somehow, we all ended up where we needed to be with ten minutes to spare. It was then that we caught up with local events.

“M’am, we ain’t got any power. You’re gonna have to call and reschedule.” A very exasperated lady standing in a darkened door hollered at me across the parking lot.

Seat belts were buckled and kid tears were shed. Apparently, not being able to go into the darkened unairconditioned building was heartbreaking. I pulled out of the parking lot only slightly more annoyed than I should have been and started home.

I passed the DMV, giving them a mental middle finger for making me wait the last time I was in there half a year before. I passed the consignment shop that had a mouse problem last time I had visited. I passed the yellow house with the little yellow well house out front that I’ve loved since I was a kid. I slowed down after that house because the new police station was just up ahead, right past the fabrication shop that was owned by one of my distant cousins. More specifically, my dad’s uncle’s son.

And there, sitting on the tailgate of a blue S-10 was my father.

Here is the part where I tell you that I’m not on best terms with my biological family. I’ll explain it all later, but remember Cinderella? Well, instead of an evil Stepmother and stepsisters, I had an evil Mother and a father who was on his third marriage and was getting close to his fifties when I was born. When I married my husband, the ties were severed. After a few tries, I realized that my mother just wasn’t good for my mental health. The drawback was that cutting her out, cut him out too. I’ve never fully recovered from that.

So to see him, after all these years, just sitting there talking smack with the fellas caught my breath in my throat. The decision was easy. I was there. I had a block of time suddenly empty. Without turning on my blinker, I gave in to the message the Universe was sending me. I turned into the gravel parking lot and got out of the car.

Two minutes later, I was wrapped in my father’s arms.

I want to tie this back to my original point. Because of a series of unfortunate events, I got to see my father. It was exactly what I needed. The Universe gift wrapped an experience just for me. And by not second guessing it, I received two things. One was a salve on a decade old wound. And the other was the first step of a relationship with something greater than myself.

I’m listening Universe. You don’t have to knock out the power to get my attention again. 

BBBBBB

Life, Death, and pictures on the Internet

The internet is a weird thing.

At it’s core, its a bunch of zeros and ones, arranged together in sequence, making something out of nothing. I can’t really explain how it all works. It’s all way beyond my realm of understanding. What I do know about the internet though, is that it can bring people together.

Let’s start at the beginning.

Half a million years ago, you know when Myspace was popular, I was a brand new adult discovering the world of body acceptance. I had always been the “ugly fat” girl. My mother started me on the path and the kids at school picked it up and ran. I never had good feelings about my body or my looks.  So after marrying my husband and having my first child, I realized, maybe that’s not who I was. Maybe , you know, I actually might be pretty. Somehow, I stumbled upon the world of online modeling. There was a site that was for plus size pin ups. I knew as soon as I saw the website and the ladies featured I wanted to be part of it. Luckily enough, after applying, I was accepted. And it was so much fun. It help bolstered my self love and helped me unveil my sexuality. More importantly, it gave me a wonderful group of lady friends. The type of friends I never really knew existed.

Friendships never were my strong point. When you’re raised by a paranoid narcissistic, you learn that the basic set up of the world is  “Us vs THEM”. If you weren’t genetically related to us (and sometimes if you were), if you disagreed with us (and sometimes if you didn’t), if you did better than us (or if you did worse) you were in the THEM camp. This fucked up mentality stuck with me until I clicked with these wonder women online. We were all different, but we were all the same too. We disagreed on somethings, and agreed on others. We walked different paths with different steps, but were still able to hold hands. The feelings of love and support was new and amazing and, I’m not shitting you here, changed my life.

As it does, time moved on. We all did our own thing and Myspace died at the murderous hands of Facebook. Our group of friends faced real life challenges and adventures. Marriages, divorces, births, deaths, relocations, and stagnations. We drifted then found each other. We lived our lives. We shared our stories. We loved each other.

Recently, one of my close lady friends from that group passed away. We were never able to met in person and, as the good ole Southern phrase goes, hug each others neck. But we were close. She watched my babies become kids, I watched her kids become men. We laughed, we cried, we lived. We exchanged letters and stories, gifts for the kids. We swapped clothes. We were sisters. And it was and will forever be on the of most important relationships of my life.

So here’s to my favorite pirate mama. Way the wind always blow you to where you need to go. We’re going to meet again and when we do, I’m going to hug you for a good long while. Thank you for showing me and my scallawags a love we didnt know existed. You helped teach me that a true family is the one you make for yourself. You were a beautiful radiant star that blessed us all. You helped make me a better person. I will always hold you in my heart and take you with me on my travels.

Rest easy, beautiful. You are so loved.

BBBBBB

Previously on Legos and Coffee,

I attempted a blog challenge. I posted about it here. Obviously, it was a failure since I took a year long sabbatical and never came back. I think a lot had to do with the fact that I committed to doing it without fully falling in love with it. Looking back now, I am not fond of the prompts themselves. It feels….shallow? After doing this list, I might overhaul the entire idea and start again. But I’ll at least try to get through this one thing. It was my goal, so I’m going to do it.

 Let’s start back where I left off and give it another go.

So let’s say today is day 11 and the prompt is “List 15 of your favorite things”. Why they didn’t have it be “List 11 of your favorite things” seems like a miss to me.

  • Coffee. In all forms. From black with sweetener to superkalifraglistic from Starbucks. I don’t care what you think about my coffee order, so shhhh. Just put it in me.
  • Used Books. I really love reading a book that’s already been loved. I love the feeling of a well worn novel. Also it saves money and keeps stories alive.
  • Professional Wrestling. I’m a mark. I’ve watched since I was a little kid. My dad, who Im sure will be the subject of a few post in the future, was an indie wrestler when I was a child. We’d travel to sweaty gyms, set up a ring, and do shows. It’s still something that I love. I don’t care if it’s “fake”. It’s still real to me dammit!
  • Incense and wax melts. Nothing changes my mood faster than to make my area smell nice.
  • Late 90s-Early 00s Rock. It was my coming of age music. What can I say?
  • Podcasts! Dude, I love me some podcasts. In the last year or so, i discovered the concept of podcasting and fell in love. I religiously listen to Tanis, Rabbits, Welcome to Night Vale, What Happened When, and Something to Wrestle with Bruce Prichard. I really wish The Black Tapes would come back. I miss it so much.
  • Gravity Falls. Its a constant in our rotation of shows. Its like animated X-Files.
  • Instagram. Yep, Im one of those people. I try to post more than just selfies. I dont always accomplish a respectable stuff to selfie ratio though.
  • Sewing. Its become one of my favorite ways to create. Ive hit a lull recently. I made the mistake of linking my enjoyment of sewing to my ability to sell things Ive made. I need to fix that.
  • The Denver Broncos. I was never much of a football fan growing up. I knew little to nothing about it. My husband however, is a huge Broncos fan and has this huge wealth of football knowledge. So I decided instead of being one of those people that sit around and pout when their SO watches sports, I’d learn about it so I could watch with him. And I have. And the Broncos are my time. Which is slightly hilarious considering I live in the thick of the team they beat recently in the Super Bowl.
  • Milkshakes. They are glorious
  • Lists. I typically enjoy making list. They bring me some  sense of control. This one however, is kicking my ass.
  • The Blues Brothers. Always.  I love that damn movie so much.
  • My family. My husband is easily my best friend. I’m honored to have the kids I have. I’ve filled the gaps with people who love me.  I’m a lucky person.

Ya know what? I think I’m done with this list. Look, I have a lot of favorite things. Listing them here seems so redundant. I know the point is to “get to know” me better, but this isn’t fun. Like I said above, Im going to need to overhaul this whole thing. I want writing here to be a release, not another thing that stresses me. And for some reason, this list stresses.

So, there’s that. I’ll figure something out. Something enjoyable for me and for you, the reader.