When I was little my dad was, as many children see their fathers, superman. He was the strongest and the fastest, and the best chocolate chip cookie baker. He was my tree. Solid roots that grew deep into my ground and supported me against his trunk. A tarp of leaves to catch me when I fell, and limbs that reached down to me and guided me to the top of my potential. But as I continued to climb, his limbs started to bend, weakening under the strain. They stopped growing, and stretched to a point where they could no longer hold me. They're bark flaking off and disappearing into the fading leaves below. I continued to climb for as long as I could; convincing myself that everything was the same. That this tree had not changed. Until eventually I fell, tumbling into nothingness, where leaves should have been there to catch me. I had not given up. It wasn’t his fault. The weight of my body had grown to fast for him and he had done everything he could to hold me. Right? So I began climbing again. But sharp thorns poked out of the bark, piercing my flesh and tearing my skin. Short branches broke off at the slightest touch, leaving behind rough sticks that scratched my legs and tore my clothes. His trunk did not bend towards me the same way. It seemed to be twisting away from me in disgust, yet it begged me to continue climbing. I gripped each limb of the tree for as long as I could until my hands grew sweaty and slippery, and I found myself on the floor yet again. Yet, none of it was his fault. But what else was I supposed to do? How could he expect me to reach the top of such an impossible course? I’m still climbing.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
wow lovely
I write this a while ago. Then I found it. Don't you love it when that happens?
When I grow up I want lots of children. They will have ringlets and shiny patent leather shoes and they will play with Marissa’s cats. Marissa will have fluffy cats. Who are all declawed. I want to live somewhere beautiful, that looks like country, but isn’t because the city’s right there. My name is Alexandra. A lot of people call me Ace. I don’t know why. Well, I do know why, but it’s a shit story so I'm not gonna tell it. One day I'm going to make up a story about how I got my nickname and tell everybody. You’ll be the first to know.
My moms kind of like a gypsy. She wears long skirts that jingle, and ties her hair up with butterfly shaped clips. And she’s always dancing. Well that’s what she does. She’s a dancer. I dance too, but I do not want to be a dancer when I grow up. We move around a lot, me and my mom. We always have. I've never lived in the same place for more than 5 years. This is the longest time I’ve been anywhere. It’s my 5th year. Sometimes I'm scared we’re jinxed. And something tells me I might not be here next year.
The items I would grab if my house was on fire would be…
1. My computer
2. My dog Lola, even though she’d probably make me regret it. (I'm just kidding)
3. My phone, so I could call the fire department and tell them my house was on fire, and then sue them if they didn’t save everything I had to leave behind. Then with the money I win from the lawsuit I can buy all my important stuff…except not really. Like photo albums, journals, and my stuffed animals. Those are the things that really matter. Not anything I could buy back. But having the money would probably make me feel a little bit better about losing everything.
That’s a terrible situation to think about. Losing everything. I hate losing things. But I suppose I'm not very original in that ideology. Most of my friends are people who have lost things. Not stupid things like a homework assignment or their appetite. But like, things that will still matter to them 50 years from now. Their father, their independence, their freedom, their virginity. But everybody has a sob story. What I'm trying to point out is that I seem to be attracted to people who have lost something meaningful, or something I perceive as meaningful. But people who don’t flaunt their loss. People who hide it. I don’t know how I got into this subject. But I’ll end this now. Is this supposed to be an autobiography or something? If so, I hope you’ve learned something about me. I didn’t really follow the instructions. But really, what’s the fun in that?
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
something i never told my mother...
A strong, black railing outlined my aunt and uncles house in Florida. Soundly standing on their front porch, dividing their house from the yard. The black paint had chipped off in some places, exposing a rusty metal surface beneath its smooth facade. My aunt, uncle, and older cousins had gone to the store to pick up dinner. Upon realizing that we had forgotten our toothbrushes at home, my parents had driven off to the local CVS, leaving my youngest cousin and I alone in the house, with only our grandmother’s snores to keep us company. I was two years older than my cousin Grace, who had just turned four and had taken it upon herself to remind me of this at least three times a minute. She also reminded me how her mom let her hold the spatula and flip the pancakes every morning, and that she was the only person in her family who could count to ten in German, and that she jumped so high on her bed she could touch the ceiling, and a countless number of other facts that I had no interest or desire to hear. I tried to distract myself from her irritating bragging, but was unable to get rid of her annoying voice mumbling every fact about herself into my ear.
She continued, “…and I can fit my head through the railing without getting stuck and-”
“Prove it.” I said finally, hoping I would be able to trap her in a silence long enough to escape to my room.
“Okay.” She said naively, making her way to the front porch. It was not the answer I had hoped for, but at least it would be entertaining. I did try and warn her that she could get stuck, and that she would be in trouble if our parents caught us, but she was completely confident in her abilities.
She grasped two poles on the railing and slid her head through easily, shooting me a triumphant smile from the other side of the fence. Her smile quickly faded when she realized that her head must have suddenly grown larger, and would no longer squeeze through the posts. Pushing against the railings she struggled to free herself, but was unable to squeeze her ears through the solid structure. With our grandmother sound asleep the only option was to wait until our parents returned, hopefully well prepared with a remedy for trapped heads. I sat with Grace on the porch. She was not nearly as annoying now, it seemed being stuck in a fence had quieted her.
When she got hungry, I went into the kitchen to look for a snack and returned with a box of raisins. I took all the raisins out of the box, and lined them up symmetrically on the edge of the porch. I watched mesmerized as a small ant scurried up the side of the porch and found its way onto the wrinkled raisin. I picked up the raisin and examined it, captivated by the ant’s ability to camouflage with its food. I then fed the raisin, ant and all, to Grace. I waited until another ant crawled onto one of the raisins, before feeding it to Grace. She had almost finished the box when my parents got home. I picked up the only remaining raisin and flicked off the ant before popping it in my mouth.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
his name rhymes with smile.
You can't believe it; you were always singing along.
It was so easy and the words so sweet.
You can't remember; you try to feel the beat.
Such a waste of a young heart
What a pity / what a sham
What's the matter with you, man?
Don't you see it’s wrong/ can't you get it right?
Out of mind and outta sight
Call on all your girls, don't forget the boys
Put a lid on all that noise
I hear you're living out of state, running in a whole new scene
They say i haven't slept in weeks, you're the only thing i see
I'm a satellite heart/ lost in the dark
I’m spun out so far/ you stop, I start
But I'll be true to you
I’m a satellite heart/ lost ïn the dark
I’m spun out so far/ you stop I start
But I'll be true to you no matter what you do/ yeah I’ll be true to you
