I guess if there was a bar where all the dreams that you forgot went to have a beer and talk about you and re-tell all the things you forgot about them, then that’s where all the in- between feelings would be comfortable hanging out. Like this: I was trying to put a word on it but it’s something that’s in between everything. The pauses and the breaks and open ended looks. All those little places and feelings sandwiched between the moments when one feeling changes to another. Nobody took the time to name them, they are gone before they begin. A strange place to live in or get stuck at…a feeling between feelings with no words to explain. I’m sure they would be comfortable with all the dreams I can’t remember. The feeling of existing but not being named or remembered.
Category Archives: Writing
And my fingers raddle dry like a crack fiend as I pull open the paper. And they are freezing, and blue as i rapidly move them to get at the little white pouch and I’m fumbling out of haste and a pain in my throat. I push through some work related incidentals with little strings holding my fragile nerves together, bobbing from the top of the cup, i huddle over the water cooler as the hot steam rolls over my cold and cracked knuckles gripping the mug. Patience now while I teeter brim full back into the office to a corner to warm myself while I wait. Wait, drumming fingers, rubbing the cup warming up the meaty parts of my palms, and wait…wait. Now. I pop the lid off and let the steam hit my cold face and bury my thoughts in the aromatic heat drift. Now. I lift it to my lips and the edge of the cup signals perfect temperatures. I lean back with a breath in and take a sip of my tea letting the warm liquid coat my mouth and throat like a hug. For a second the pain in my throat subsides while it gets rocked gently with earl grey herbs. I get three long sensual sips in with my eyes closed before I’m interrupted by incidentals with needs. People pressing at me and I know that was my moment for the day. Thank you earl grey tea for 29 seconds of relief see you tomorrow.
I loved you so much my heart exploded
my souls like butter in your hot little hands.
and I’m all over the place
and I’m a mess
And exploded parts are on the walls
And exposed parts lay calmly plastered to the ceiling
And the floor is a slippery mess of all that remains
But your poised and collected as you walk into the room and pour yourself a bowl of me.
So as I was flipping through some recipes I found step by step instructions on roasted garlic in the microwave and had to give it a try! I bookmarked it and just had the chance to try it out last night. Mine worked like a charm and took 2min. Of course you miss out on all the great flavor in the bottom of the pan but in a hurry this is the way to go! I wanted to make sure and give credit to this great site so check out the website and the whole pasta salad recipe here @budget bites
Below is the excerpt from the recipe on how to roast the garlic. Very good to know, very easy and I will be a return customer on this quick trick.
Step By Step Photo
To cook the garlic in the microwave, begin by cutting a little off the top of the head to expose the cloves
Place an inverted plate over top of your bowl or dish. Microwave on high, in one minute increments, until the garlic is soft and very fragrant. Mine took two minutes and after that it began to burn (even when I added water to the dish). The garlic will hiss and pop during cooking, and some of the cloves may jump out of the head!
When it’s finished, it will be soft, kind of mushy, and it will smell really REALLY good. The cloves will be about the same color as they were fresh, but they will look slightly transparant. Allow the garlic to cool.
Nana called today. Checking in quickly on my new life and her voice just wrapped me up in a comfortable feeling. I got off the phone and cried because I miss her so much, and I guess i miss everything comfortable. Life has been so busy and so upside down I haven’t even had a moment to process. And this place, even with all my stuff shoved in it…it feels like someone else’s. I have a feeling like I should leave and go home but there is no home to go to. Then in that moment in some dirty gas station parking lot with tears pouring out of my eyes like I had a duct tape mouth full of peppers I knew this feeling. I knew it to my bones. It was what made Nana feel like home,its the reason the smell of her bread feels like heaven would smell to me. All those years of moving when I was a kid, sleeping on blow up air mattresses and having cheap plastic furniture. Living in places for a few months at a time that never felt settled and Nana always called me to check on me once we got settled in. Nanas house for me when i was a kid was my only place that ever felt like home. It was a steady easy constant. It could be depended on to be there with the same heavy furniture and the smell of a gas stove. That clicking sound it would make before you light the pilot on a burner still evokes a feeling in me I can’t explain. Simple joy. Nana’s house is pretty much exactly the same today as it was when I was a child. In the silence of that house is the sound of peace and its the private song of my soul. It’s what I long for in the bottom of myself. A steady constant, peace and a home. No having to show up to school and be the new girl, no worrying about where to sit because you don’t know anyone, no awkward sideways glances. It’s been so long I guess I forgot that feeling but funny how it shows right back up in life. All that being said I’m happy to be out of my comfort zone. Nana said she would show me pictures of when they lived on the military base. She told me how she took a bus all the way from her home town in Texas to California to meet Grandy at the Air Force base. She said it was awful and laughed and it made me laugh too. She had never left home before that. So I imagine someday I laugh about today and I image someday soon it feels like home and in the mean time I imagine I might make a batch of bread and feel better about life in general and I guess this is me right now finding my place that feels like mine and that’s just fine with me.
Your with me like the wet on my tongue
the arch of my back
the rise of my calf
the memories of young
the stretch of my arm
the breadth of my chest
the aching for rest
Where do I hide
with you buried inside
the marrow of my bones
the blood of my bodily home
the bend of my knee
the fold of my soul
the depth of my eye
the crease of my cheek
Even at night in my brain while I sleep
your bumping around the corners of me
introducing yourself to new parts of me
The curl of my hair
the nape of my neck
the flex of my wrist
the twitch in my chest
Your swallowing all of my inches of self
till your with me always and Im no longer myself
So its been awhile but life gets heavy to lift sometimes and all the little stuff feels like big stuff and perspective flies out the window when the widows are down and your going 90 to nothing and back again. And then I remember to breath. I remember to open my eyes and see more than I am handed. Moving has been tedious to say the least and being here alone to do a lot of it wears me down, it seems overwhelming at times and leaves water dropping out the corner of my eyes when I’m not paying close attention. An empty house feels really lonely. And when I say empty I’m not being metaphorical I have a pallet on the floor a plate a spoon a cup and a few random articles of clothing. Thank goodness for my iPod and music or I might be swinging, just kidding. But really it’s depressing a bit and motivating talks to myself and a few well places prayers have been my salvation. Along with one very good best friend. So dear life log that’s where I’m at for the moment. I move Saturday to a new town, new job, new house and I’m sure ill be too overwhelmed to feel sorry for my fortunate self but for the moment let me have my lonely like a blanket and let me reflect and pull inside. Soon enough ill have no time for it again and every memory will be pushed to the corners with all the life I’m busy living. Today Ill visit yesterday because its a friend a rarely have time for.