lovely Sardonic-ness
I went on this pseudo-date Saturday. I went to a party (was not tipsy mind you) I proceeded to walk into a screen door and fall flat on my ass. OK. It was an HONEST mistake and I tried to not be oh so very and utterly horribly embarrassed. I broke the door and this guy’s (1,000 dollar) stereo speaker wire thing. I take off outside and pretend to talk to my sister for about a half an hour just to avoid everyone. I keep hearing people say “Hey did you see that girl?” or “That was pretty damn funny”. I get sick and tired of it so I yell at a few party goers “Yes I am the fucking door girl ok, everyone will know me for the rest of the night as that girl – lets get over it.” The owner of the stereo and said door continued to be horribly obnoxious about the entire thing. After an hour and a half of the instant mocking replays I walk up to him and pull out my checkbook and ask him how much he wants for whatever it is I broke. He proceeded to yell at me and make most of the giggly drunken teens laugh. Pissed and not wanting to throw a fit I left with my empathetic “date.” The night ended on a slightly better note because of 6 cups of coffee and a grease spoon diner that I have grown to love.
(For those of you wondering I changed my mind about not blogging for awhile. J )
Sunday, September 29
Friday, September 27
Conclusion
Alright folks -- It is time for my lovely little world of apophosis to stay silent. I am too busy right now to keep this site up and running. Thank you for your thoughts and comments. See you on the flip side. (check back in a few weeks, perhaps I will begin to express some things)
With Love...
Alright folks -- It is time for my lovely little world of apophosis to stay silent. I am too busy right now to keep this site up and running. Thank you for your thoughts and comments. See you on the flip side. (check back in a few weeks, perhaps I will begin to express some things)
With Love...
Monday, September 16
Think before Speaking..
I sat down today to have a cigarette with one of the new cooks. Chitchat began about work and bills then the conversation led to medical insurance, which then led to him telling me that all of his was paid for by the government. He served in the Gulf War when he was 18. My next question was out of sheer stupidity and I can’t believe I was so insensitive to ask. I guess I just didn’t think he would have been on the front lines. I guess I thought he was just there as a reserve. I don’t know what the in the hell I was thinking. But I asked almost jokingly, “Did you kill anyone?” He looked at me square in the eyes, not mad – not upset, just somber. He said, “What kind of question is that?”. I shrugged, immediately I said that I was sorry I had asked such a rude and impulsive question. He shook his head and told me that everyone always asks him that. Then he looked down and said, “yeah, yeah I sure as hell did”. He looked back up at me (now with tears in my eyes) He said he had watched people being burnt to death and he had shot men. He watched crucifixions and torture. I didn’t know what to say. I told him I was sorry again. Almost as if he were ashamed said, “After I tell people that they tend to have a different opinion of me.” I told him that by no means did I have a LESS opinion of him but I had a lot of admiration and respect for him. He smiled and got up out of his seat. He went back to the kitchen to flip some burgers or to make an order of ranch fries. I left. I thought about the conversation all the way home.
I can’t imagine what that would have been like, especially at the age of 18.
I sat down today to have a cigarette with one of the new cooks. Chitchat began about work and bills then the conversation led to medical insurance, which then led to him telling me that all of his was paid for by the government. He served in the Gulf War when he was 18. My next question was out of sheer stupidity and I can’t believe I was so insensitive to ask. I guess I just didn’t think he would have been on the front lines. I guess I thought he was just there as a reserve. I don’t know what the in the hell I was thinking. But I asked almost jokingly, “Did you kill anyone?” He looked at me square in the eyes, not mad – not upset, just somber. He said, “What kind of question is that?”. I shrugged, immediately I said that I was sorry I had asked such a rude and impulsive question. He shook his head and told me that everyone always asks him that. Then he looked down and said, “yeah, yeah I sure as hell did”. He looked back up at me (now with tears in my eyes) He said he had watched people being burnt to death and he had shot men. He watched crucifixions and torture. I didn’t know what to say. I told him I was sorry again. Almost as if he were ashamed said, “After I tell people that they tend to have a different opinion of me.” I told him that by no means did I have a LESS opinion of him but I had a lot of admiration and respect for him. He smiled and got up out of his seat. He went back to the kitchen to flip some burgers or to make an order of ranch fries. I left. I thought about the conversation all the way home.
I can’t imagine what that would have been like, especially at the age of 18.
Friday, September 13
Tuesday, September 10
Sunday, September 8
The game
Yesterday was phenomenally intense
I am the sexiest most beautiful woman this world has ever known. I was and I am the object of lust. My every move was being watched, adored, and desired – the intensity overpowering for both of us. We were walking in circles, talking in circles, and falling in circles. The secrets of subtle eroticism now belong to me. All of this swirling and chaotically filling this hour. After walking around the same few blocks I walked back to my car. I said a short goodbye. He left. This moment had me captured for hours – maybe even still.
Yesterday was phenomenally intense
I am the sexiest most beautiful woman this world has ever known. I was and I am the object of lust. My every move was being watched, adored, and desired – the intensity overpowering for both of us. We were walking in circles, talking in circles, and falling in circles. The secrets of subtle eroticism now belong to me. All of this swirling and chaotically filling this hour. After walking around the same few blocks I walked back to my car. I said a short goodbye. He left. This moment had me captured for hours – maybe even still.
Thursday, September 5
Word Play
I sign my posts Miss Lyndsay. Someone asked me the other day why I didn't use Ms. instead of Miss. I explained to them because I don't want to use it as a noun.
I use the word how I like it used and that is of course meaning to feel an absence. Obviously because I am most wonderous and beautious and have a lot anxious readers who wait for my every post!
Miss - Used as a title prefixed to the name of an unmarried woman or girl
Miss – a failure to attain desired result
Miss – to fail to hit, reach, or contact
Miss – to discover or feel the absence
I sign my posts Miss Lyndsay. Someone asked me the other day why I didn't use Ms. instead of Miss. I explained to them because I don't want to use it as a noun.
I use the word how I like it used and that is of course meaning to feel an absence. Obviously because I am most wonderous and beautious and have a lot anxious readers who wait for my every post!
Miss - Used as a title prefixed to the name of an unmarried woman or girl
Miss – a failure to attain desired result
Miss – to fail to hit, reach, or contact
Miss – to discover or feel the absence
Wednesday, September 4
Scrapbook
Last night T was asleep in my arms. Out of the silence this hysterical baby giggle wakes me up. I thought he was awake. I looked down and he was dead asleep -- His little baby body trembling from holding in giggles. He does it again – a small explosion of giggles from my sleeping boy. This went on for fifteen minuets. I laid there and laughed with him, quietly though, as not to wake him . Then, I wanted more than anything to pick up the phone and share this moment with someone. I needed to share this moment. Of course at 2 in the morning I could not call my dad or my mom because they would probably kill me for waking them. So then as he laughed dreaming his baby dreams, I cried. I had this beautiful moment and I had to keep it to myself.
Last night T was asleep in my arms. Out of the silence this hysterical baby giggle wakes me up. I thought he was awake. I looked down and he was dead asleep -- His little baby body trembling from holding in giggles. He does it again – a small explosion of giggles from my sleeping boy. This went on for fifteen minuets. I laid there and laughed with him, quietly though, as not to wake him . Then, I wanted more than anything to pick up the phone and share this moment with someone. I needed to share this moment. Of course at 2 in the morning I could not call my dad or my mom because they would probably kill me for waking them. So then as he laughed dreaming his baby dreams, I cried. I had this beautiful moment and I had to keep it to myself.