ya get alllllllllllll insecure
and feel like everything
you're about
could be bad.
and THEN you really could use some reminders
quick.
someone tell me what my favorite color is
and then
quicker.
someone tell me i like dogs
and it's
OKAY
that i can't sit still for more than 30 minutes.
unless i'm sleeping.
but that doesn't count cuz i haven't been sleeping much lately either.
ya just want CLUES to get yo-self back on track.
and runnin smooooth.
family's good for that.
the friends that you actually like, too.
(y'know..the friends that know you and don't think you're funny all the time because they're used to your nonsense. i love it when they don't laugh. really makes me feel like we got somethin.)
OR i'll even settle for a walk down main street.
elk
a
darrrrrr
...
actually it's pronounced
el-kayy-derrr.
but, yo, none uh those are present on this campus.
so.
god.
this one's all yers.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
anticipation. and praise the lord, no antihistamine.
summer list.
1. learn how to kayak. dear, jade. you're on duty.
2. get my fishing license.
3. stock my new tacklebox. dear, gramma. hook me up.
4. pun SO HAPPILY intended.
5. find out why the suzuki doesn't work. yo. dad.
6. then ride it.
7. go water skiing. MOM. i need help.
8. work 8 to 4:30, monday through friday. the literal joy of lawn mowing and animal care.
9. so excited, that gets two spots.
10. baby kitties.
11. new puppy. bob is being replaced. (toy story reference?)
12. summer dresses!
13. t-shirts and shorts and a full layer of animal hair and dirt from digging for baby kitties under stuff in the shop.
14. take naps in real grass. smelling it all the time.
15. remove ticks acquired from laying on the ground.
16. haha 90% of those reading this just stopped.
17. praying for immunity from limes disease.
18. learn how to cook a fish. even though i don't think i like fish.at all. sick.
19. learn how to fillet a fish. although, i think it's 'bout like peelin a tomata. like they do on those infomercials to demonstrate how sharp their knives are.
20. peanut.
21. haha peanut. i miss peanut.
1. learn how to kayak. dear, jade. you're on duty.
2. get my fishing license.
3. stock my new tacklebox. dear, gramma. hook me up.
4. pun SO HAPPILY intended.
5. find out why the suzuki doesn't work. yo. dad.
6. then ride it.
7. go water skiing. MOM. i need help.
8. work 8 to 4:30, monday through friday. the literal joy of lawn mowing and animal care.
9. so excited, that gets two spots.
10. baby kitties.
11. new puppy. bob is being replaced. (toy story reference?)
12. summer dresses!
13. t-shirts and shorts and a full layer of animal hair and dirt from digging for baby kitties under stuff in the shop.
14. take naps in real grass. smelling it all the time.
15. remove ticks acquired from laying on the ground.
16. haha 90% of those reading this just stopped.
17. praying for immunity from limes disease.
18. learn how to cook a fish. even though i don't think i like fish.at all. sick.
19. learn how to fillet a fish. although, i think it's 'bout like peelin a tomata. like they do on those infomercials to demonstrate how sharp their knives are.
20. peanut.
21. haha peanut. i miss peanut.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
it's been six years.
my papa died six years ago. whenever we'd go hang out with gramma and papa we mostly hung out with gramma. we went down to the creek (criik) with her and she'd bait our hooks and take our fish off. then nome and lize would drive the three wheeler though cow pies, stop with the front wheel directly IN the cow pie...and then with their little arms yank the handlebars right and then left and back a hundred times to make sure the crap was good and dug in. wheels covered. i was usually riding in the back on a blanket holding the 'teeda'... i don't know if the rest of the world calls them that... teedas are the orange flags on a metal rod that you stick in the back of your moving vehicle that isn't a car or tractor... i'd wave it in the air like gramma told me my cousin jesse did and yell "teedaaa teeedaaa teedaaaa" just like she told me my cousin jesse did.
satisfied and laughing and smiling way too much to NOT look like we'd been up to something, we all (me, lize, nome, and gramma) would get off the three wheeler, dump out our five gallon bucket of fish on the grass (for the cats to eat at their convenience) and walk away. into the house. papa'd go outside. he'd HOOP and HOLLAR semi-jokingly at the, well, shitty state of the three wheeler. we'd all laugh. then, he'd get the hose and start to work, spraying the three wheeler's tires and the tire wells where crap was caked. but that was only sometimes. other times, after we covered the three wheeler in crap and before we got offfff the three wheeler, we'd floor it? how do floor a three wheeler? the gas is on the handle bar... ahem. we'd drop the right wrist while firmly gripping the..right handle bar (and left one for that matter)...whatever. anyone know what i'm trying to describe? we'd give the thing GAS and do donuts around gramma and papa's big drive way so that the crap would fly off the wheels and make the driveway look like a pig lot. or something. anyway, it made papa mad. it wasn't just a lane...it was a big enough gravel lot that you could navigate big machinery easily and not whack the back side of the house. perfect for a wild craze on the three wheeler. one time mom ran papa's tractor through the machine shed door. good story. she was little. WHY was she driving a tractor? joe. (he's mentioned later)..
we'd all settle down. we'd make a party plate. liza's job. eventually all of us got in a bath. and then we'd watch tv. gramma'd peel and slice apples in her lap on the family room comfy chair and pass out the pieces of apple. papa'd go out to the kitchen and get himself a cookie and milk. throughout the course of the night at sporadic times, papa'd also make the most IRRITATING noises--literally like a fog horn (only fluctuating pitch lots more)--"waaaaaaaaaaaaaaawaaaaaaaaaaawuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh" we'd all yell, genuinely ANGRY, "PAPA! SHUT! UP!" haha he never did the first few times we'd ask. actually..i'm pretty sure our asking him to stop had nothing to do with his stopping. he'd just quit whenever he was good and ready to.
papa'd always tell us he was proud of us. even though me, a nine year old, hadn't really done anything with my life to have received his praise. but. he gave it anyway. to all of us. he also told us that if we didn't pick on him he wouldn't know if we loved him.
he knew we loved him.
i can't really brag on my papa enough. yeah, he had his happy hour and smoked like a chimney but he was the best papa ever. really was a worthless mechanic but was good in wood working. he was a really decent pool player and he'd MAKE SURE we were all fair warned not to rip the green fuzzy fabric that coated the slate pool top. although, he never really came down to make sure we behaved ourselves in the basement (where the pool table was).. gramma wouldn't let him. she told us he was too good and that was why he couldn't play with us. he'd beat us in a second--ONE second--flat and we wouldn't be able to have any fun. so, we didn't let him play. i feel bad about that now. i wish he would've played us and i wish we would've gotten schooled. i would've put that in my 'best of memories' bank. ah well.
anyway. i miss my papa. p.s. hugging my uncle is scary similar to what hugging my papa felt like. they smell the same, they feel the same, they've got the same pack of camels in their breast pocket...like father, like son. glad for that. not the smoking part. i vote he should quit.
i miss my papa. what a guy. he loved my dad and he loved my mom. he loved my gramma lots too. ornery as she is. but he was stubborn to match. power couple.
i think that's it.
satisfied and laughing and smiling way too much to NOT look like we'd been up to something, we all (me, lize, nome, and gramma) would get off the three wheeler, dump out our five gallon bucket of fish on the grass (for the cats to eat at their convenience) and walk away. into the house. papa'd go outside. he'd HOOP and HOLLAR semi-jokingly at the, well, shitty state of the three wheeler. we'd all laugh. then, he'd get the hose and start to work, spraying the three wheeler's tires and the tire wells where crap was caked. but that was only sometimes. other times, after we covered the three wheeler in crap and before we got offfff the three wheeler, we'd floor it? how do floor a three wheeler? the gas is on the handle bar... ahem. we'd drop the right wrist while firmly gripping the..right handle bar (and left one for that matter)...whatever. anyone know what i'm trying to describe? we'd give the thing GAS and do donuts around gramma and papa's big drive way so that the crap would fly off the wheels and make the driveway look like a pig lot. or something. anyway, it made papa mad. it wasn't just a lane...it was a big enough gravel lot that you could navigate big machinery easily and not whack the back side of the house. perfect for a wild craze on the three wheeler. one time mom ran papa's tractor through the machine shed door. good story. she was little. WHY was she driving a tractor? joe. (he's mentioned later)..
we'd all settle down. we'd make a party plate. liza's job. eventually all of us got in a bath. and then we'd watch tv. gramma'd peel and slice apples in her lap on the family room comfy chair and pass out the pieces of apple. papa'd go out to the kitchen and get himself a cookie and milk. throughout the course of the night at sporadic times, papa'd also make the most IRRITATING noises--literally like a fog horn (only fluctuating pitch lots more)--"waaaaaaaaaaaaaaawaaaaaaaaaaawuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh" we'd all yell, genuinely ANGRY, "PAPA! SHUT! UP!" haha he never did the first few times we'd ask. actually..i'm pretty sure our asking him to stop had nothing to do with his stopping. he'd just quit whenever he was good and ready to.
papa'd always tell us he was proud of us. even though me, a nine year old, hadn't really done anything with my life to have received his praise. but. he gave it anyway. to all of us. he also told us that if we didn't pick on him he wouldn't know if we loved him.
he knew we loved him.
i can't really brag on my papa enough. yeah, he had his happy hour and smoked like a chimney but he was the best papa ever. really was a worthless mechanic but was good in wood working. he was a really decent pool player and he'd MAKE SURE we were all fair warned not to rip the green fuzzy fabric that coated the slate pool top. although, he never really came down to make sure we behaved ourselves in the basement (where the pool table was).. gramma wouldn't let him. she told us he was too good and that was why he couldn't play with us. he'd beat us in a second--ONE second--flat and we wouldn't be able to have any fun. so, we didn't let him play. i feel bad about that now. i wish he would've played us and i wish we would've gotten schooled. i would've put that in my 'best of memories' bank. ah well.
anyway. i miss my papa. p.s. hugging my uncle is scary similar to what hugging my papa felt like. they smell the same, they feel the same, they've got the same pack of camels in their breast pocket...like father, like son. glad for that. not the smoking part. i vote he should quit.
i miss my papa. what a guy. he loved my dad and he loved my mom. he loved my gramma lots too. ornery as she is. but he was stubborn to match. power couple.
i think that's it.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
just a taste.
but as for me?
i'll look to the lord
i'll close my eyes
i'll squint real hard
i'll look for eye drops but how do you even do that when you can't SEE
i'll wait
but i won't
i'll be impatient
more than
try and get me to wait
just like the indie 500
who does that?
for the god of my salvation
cuz he is
he's got me in my twisted state
he's not ritalin
he's divine
peace more than potassium
who even cares?
a banana is NOT soothing.
someone told me they're good for nerves.
yeah, right.
my god will hear me
louder than these stanzas
count 'em
three
i'm not yelling in a canyon
i'm talking in his ear
loudly
but that's okay cuz he made eardrums
so he can fix 'em
does god have eardrums?
he's prolly got eardrumlines
cuz that'd be better
i think, anyway...
now you get why it takes me so long to read anything
god likes my effort
when present
i like that he doesn't feel the need to be patient with me
he just likes me
pace by pace
he gets it
now music history
..i'd prefer this.
micah 7:7
i'll look to the lord
i'll close my eyes
i'll squint real hard
i'll look for eye drops but how do you even do that when you can't SEE
i'll wait
but i won't
i'll be impatient
more than
try and get me to wait
just like the indie 500
who does that?
for the god of my salvation
cuz he is
he's got me in my twisted state
he's not ritalin
he's divine
peace more than potassium
who even cares?
a banana is NOT soothing.
someone told me they're good for nerves.
yeah, right.
my god will hear me
louder than these stanzas
count 'em
three
i'm not yelling in a canyon
i'm talking in his ear
loudly
but that's okay cuz he made eardrums
so he can fix 'em
does god have eardrums?
he's prolly got eardrumlines
cuz that'd be better
i think, anyway...
now you get why it takes me so long to read anything
god likes my effort
when present
i like that he doesn't feel the need to be patient with me
he just likes me
pace by pace
he gets it
now music history
..i'd prefer this.
micah 7:7
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