Wednesday, April 16, 2014


I should have been busy
inventing new ways to piss off my mother.

Instead I spent all of seventh grade
breathing in the stagnant air of the room where
books go to die or possibly live forever.

Thank God I didn't have Google then
to confirm that five to seven years later
the woman with beehive hair that ran your city's switchboards
would retire (to Orlando, probably) and
all of the mail carriers would abandon their trucks
and we'd be eating Thanksgiving dinner without you.

© 2014

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

On the other side of the storm

Last night I slept like a baby. I worked out hard with my trainer and then skated for two hours at roller derby practice. I was exhausted, but the good kind, because I earned it.

I crawled into bed with aching muscles and a freshly-bathed Tater. My pillows were fluffier than I remembered, my bed softer. I awoke in the middle of the night to a thunderstorm rolling in and listened to the sound of rain through my open window. I am so lucky to have a dog that isn't fazed by thunder. He slept soundly despite the really bright lightning flashes that pierced through my eyelids and the rumbles that shook my windows. I drifted quickly back into dreamland as if I had never been interrupted at all, thankful for the rain and content as can be.

Monday, April 7, 2014

I get by with a little help from my watercolors

The rain is really coming down outside today, little yellow puddles forming as all the pollen is washed away. After a long, icy winter, the Sweet Carolinas seem to finally be thawing. Flowers are sprouting and trees are budding and my drive to work is oh so green.

I have been struggling lately to keep my head above the fog despite the beautiful weather. I've been trying, though. I've been pushing through work, going out with friends even when I don't feel up to it. Normally I'm so excited about roller derby bout days that I can hardly sleep the night before, but yesterday if I could have skipped it and stayed hidden under my covers, I would have.

I've been drawing and I'm taking an online class by Alisa Burke called "Sketch into Spring." This is not the first class I've taken by her and certainly won't be the last. I absolutely love her teaching style and look forward to our daily tasks. Even if the rest of my brain isn't firing on all cylinders right now, at least my creativity is being nurtured, and that's worth waking up for.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Left hook, I didn't see it coming.

I take my heart out of my chest, I just don't need it anymore.
Take my head out of the game, I just don't need it anymore.

Monday, March 17, 2014


Things have not gone my way lately. I had big plans that fell through. My jaw is sore from clenching my teeth in my sleep. The ebbs and flows of my days have been off-kilter, and I have not felt much like myself. I have known the pain of rejection, professionally and personally. I am answering hard questions about the course my life will take now that I am no longer married. I have felt-- and then felt shame for feeling-- a huge span of the rawest of human emotions: desire, rage, fear, worthlessness, joy.

Last night after a long weekend of friends and roller derby and trying to push through East of Eden (still wondering if a plot ever develops), I found myself in bed with Tater snuggled next to me, snoring rhythmically.

I thought to myself, I can't believe he's mine. 

I thought about how I wouldn't have adopted him had I not moved into this townhouse.

I thought about how I wouldn't have moved into this townhouse if my best friend hadn't bailed on me the week before we were to move into an apartment across town (this friendship, sadly, is no more.)

I thought about how I wouldn't have needed an apartment if I hadn't packed my bag that July afternoon and left my husband for the last time.

I thought that just maybe, despite my broken plans, I was exactly where I was supposed to be last night. I was in bed, snuggling with my brown-eyed furry guy who shows his teeth when he smiles and never grows tired of his squeaky pig or his ice cream toy.

He is the physical embodiment of all those plans that fell through. He is the culmination of all those disappointments and really hard days. He is always excited to see me.

One day I hope to finally see the dream of moving to Savannah realized. I hope I figure out what I want to do when I grow up sooner rather than later. But I closed my eyes last night knowing that, for now, I'm right where I'm supposed to be, and for that reason I feel very lucky.