| Your Brain's Pattern |
![]() Your mind is a firestorm - full of intensity and drama. Your thoughts may seem scattered to you most of the time... But they often seem strong and passionate to those around you. You are a natural influencer. The thoughts you share are very powerful and persuading. |
Nov 17, 2005
My egg on drugs
Nov 15, 2005
Morning drama
This morning, Claire locked herself in my bathroom. Below, is the conversation that followed:
M: "Claire, unlock the door."
C: "No."
M: "Yes."
--doorknob wiggles--
"Turn the lock in the middle."
--wiggle, wiggle--
"Clairey. UNLOCK the door."
--knock, knock--
"CLAIRE!"
C: "Who there?"
M: "It's mommy. Open the door."
C: "No it's not. It's banana."
"Knock knock"
M: "Who's there?"
C: "Banana"
M: "Banana who?"
C: "I don't know!" (uproarious laughter)
"knock knock"
M: "Who's there?"
C: "banana"
M: "banana who?"
C: "I Don't Know!" (more laughter)
*At this point, i leave to go find a key for the door. I return about 2 minutes later, and unlock the door. I open it, walk in...
C: "uh-oh"
M: "Claire, unlock the door."
C: "No."
M: "Yes."
--doorknob wiggles--
"Turn the lock in the middle."
--wiggle, wiggle--
"Clairey. UNLOCK the door."
--knock, knock--
"CLAIRE!"
C: "Who there?"
M: "It's mommy. Open the door."
C: "No it's not. It's banana."
"Knock knock"
M: "Who's there?"
C: "Banana"
M: "Banana who?"
C: "I don't know!" (uproarious laughter)
"knock knock"
M: "Who's there?"
C: "banana"
M: "banana who?"
C: "I Don't Know!" (more laughter)
*At this point, i leave to go find a key for the door. I return about 2 minutes later, and unlock the door. I open it, walk in...
C: "uh-oh"
Nov 10, 2005
a poem of the morbid variety
*eta: it's just a poem. Really. I've also written a poem about crack, doesn't mean I'm a crackhead.
Razors
how far does it have to go
scars dripping down
how deep to unchain
the sadness
to hit a nerve
and end the hurt
how deep to end the sobbing,
shaking fear
not good enough to know.
Poised on the precipice
of virgin marble,
ashen grey,
head lilting in silence.
How far does it have to go
before it stops
and hits
the bone
Razors
how far does it have to go
scars dripping down
how deep to unchain
the sadness
to hit a nerve
and end the hurt
how deep to end the sobbing,
shaking fear
not good enough to know.
Poised on the precipice
of virgin marble,
ashen grey,
head lilting in silence.
How far does it have to go
before it stops
and hits
the bone
Nov 5, 2005
God is watching...
Jenna had to pee while we were at the park. The only places to go: Port-a-Potty, or tree. Neither were kosher with Jenna. She decided to hold it, since the potty's were, in her own words, "nasty."
As we were driving home, I said, "Okay...as soon as we get home, you can go pee-pee in our nice, clean potty." Her little voice pipes up from the backseat: "Yea. I can go pee in our clean potty. It's not nasty. The pottys in Tomball, Texas are clean because that's how God made them. God put all the clean pottys in Tomball, Texas...not at the park."
SO, world, if you want a clean potty, come on over to Tomball, Texas--known for the copious amounts of white-trash rednecks in Walmart, and the clean pottys.
As we were driving home, I said, "Okay...as soon as we get home, you can go pee-pee in our nice, clean potty." Her little voice pipes up from the backseat: "Yea. I can go pee in our clean potty. It's not nasty. The pottys in Tomball, Texas are clean because that's how God made them. God put all the clean pottys in Tomball, Texas...not at the park."
SO, world, if you want a clean potty, come on over to Tomball, Texas--known for the copious amounts of white-trash rednecks in Walmart, and the clean pottys.
Nov 1, 2005
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