Yup, I think I was gone for too long and I have officially lost you guys...it's a sad thought.

If you stopped following me I understand...but pretty please with a cherry on top, would you come back.

Anyways it's Friday and much to my delight it's cold enough(for the moment at least) fro my leather jacket...Now all I need in this Red Ducati999 http://tinyurl.com/2nj7mr

My mother would freak, my dad would disapprove and my over protective band of male cousins would say that it is too dangerous but...I couldn't care less. I'm getting one of these days, soon. I hope!

So, my aunt and eldest cousin are coming to visit from Florida this weekend and I'm apprehensive. Don't get me wrong I love them but...they are a bit...surly. You never know if it's going to be a good day or if an explosion is brewing, and that puts me on edge.

I hope that everyone has a fantastically fun Friday and a wonderfully wicked Weekend! (You simply have to love alliteration!)

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Striving to better, oft we mar what's well. ~William Shakespeare, King Lear, 1605





They always so that no one is perfect and it's true. No one knows everything there is to know and not one person on this planet is free of fault. But have you noticed the lamenting tone in which these quintessential words are spoken, the air of regret when seeps into the atmosphere?





Why you ask? Why would you be sadden by this?





Have you ever notice the utter perfect of you imperfection, because I certainly have. I sometime wonder if you(or people, for that matter) know how much of those insignificant things I notice, I marvel at, or simply put, I enjoy. There is a slight bent to your nose, a bump that makes me wonder if you ever broke it and it's too embarrassing to share with me, the perfect imperfection of your feature lay out on my page like a map to some elusive treasure hunt...what will I find? Your hair is lighter on one side and when you talk the left corner of your mouth kicks up, always, not matter what you're asking or sharing. What's your favorite cover, Melissa, you ask me and for a moment I lose myself in that twitch. The way you crack your knuckles before saying something particularly difficult, or when you're nervous. I have the things I have been told not to do since childhood, the things you do all the time are wonder flaws that tug on me. Maybe I'm dysfunctional, perhaps there's a glitch in my brain...it would explain somethings, but if there is a hay wire loose, I pay my respects to it. It's the not-so-tight-bolt- rattling around in my head that makes all these perfectly fallible traits seem like gems to me.





Strive for perfection, I have bee told this time and time again, but perfection is passe, boring and often times, overrated. Where is the interest in perfection?They say that people are not perfect, but I'm sure as glad that they aren't...people are perfectly imperfect.

Happy Thursday!

P.S. Check out Sevi's give away...you won't be sorry!!

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So, It has been a while--a while is a gross understatement and I suppose it's safe to say that it has been a really long time--and I hardly know what to say or even how to explain my self imposed hiatus.
All I have to say is this...Have you ever tried to jam weeks and weeks of information into an insurmountably short amount of time?

I have and let's just say it's not fun. Some things are meant to be absorbed in evenly distributed amount of weeks...not a very short six.

Anyways...I'm back, for good, with all my randomness and writers block antidotes, short stories and of course the ever present painting. But first things first...my new hair do. I believe I promised a picture and I'm making good on that promise.I know bad pictures...sorry.

A picture of my completed painting...I think I posted a progress shot of this one.

And now here is a progress of my recent project.

Tomorrow there will be something more interesting. Cross my heart and stick a needle in my eye...just kidding. I detest needles!

Hope everyone is having a wonderful Wednesday.

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I'm going to hear Brandon Flowers sing "A Dustland Fairytale" and I can not wait!!!

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Hello my blogger friends!
I feel like I'm confessing to murder. Life has certainly taken over, it's latched on like a bloodsucking leech. Things have happened since my last post...

When I have more time and I'm not typing from a tiny screen I'll tell more than a simple jist of things account.


1. My baby brother turned 7...yikes!!
2. Summer is over and it's back to pencils and books, which I love.
3. I finished my painting and I've started a new one...only it's not just for me this time around.
4. I cut my hair(Almost all of it. I'll post a picture when I'm not working from a phone) and got turquoise panels dyed in!
5. I have the killers concert on Wednesday! I can't wait!!!!

Have a wonderful weekend! I'll post something worth while soon...I promise!

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What my mouth can't.

Sometime, words feel empty,
sentences inadequate.
Never could a perfectly written paragraph
express half of the things I feel.
No sonnet, no short story, no essay
can ever say the things my mouth can't.


You pull me back from the ledge when it's not safe
and shield my heart from things I can't see.
When your shelter isn't what I need, your shoulder is there
to lead support where your hands can't not.
You say the words I so long to hear
and when I need silence
you give me that too.


Sometimes, the words are there
just waiting to burst from my mouth
but one look at your eyes and they dissolve.
Like sugar in hot coffee
they melt.
Die in my throat
but never do they die
in my heart.


When you pull me back,
I want to mummer my gratitude.
When you hold me,
arms around my waist,
face press into my hair.
I long to tell how much you mean
to me.
When you reluctantly let me cry
without fighting the reasons,
soothing not only my pain,
but my soul as well.
I feel the urge to pour out my love,
for you and for what I have been given.


Sometimes, words feel empty,
sentences inadequate.
But for now I hope
in the deepest recesses of my mind,
that my eyes will tell you
what my mouth can't.

Happy Monday!

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Catholic Incense


It's stench invades my senses, crawling into my soul and tormenting it until I can no longer think.


Catholic Incense


It's tendrils grab on to my legs, hold me down and force me to swallow a mouthful of grief until it burns my insides


Catholic Incense


It's effect stay with me, living in the fibers of my dress and strands of my hair, making it's self at home in a heart that doesn't want it.


Catholic Incense





To be quite honest I truly hate Catholic Incense. It started way before Catholic school and countless Masses. Before the plaid skirts and strict dress coded, in fact at the time this hatred was born I was just a kid, twelve and somewhat numb. Sitting in a pew as the useless condolences flooded both me and my family, the smell crept in. Up and down the aisle it swung from it's gilded brass censer, slowly making its way to my nose. Hate swelling up within my sad little heart and then again on the hills of Forest Lawn, the damn smell followed me. It never left me alone and from the moment on, I despised Catholic Incense.





It's not the Incense fault that it aroma is tied to one of the most heart wrenching moments of my life thus far but no matter how many years pass my low opinion of it will never rise. It's smell will forever remind me of things I like to forget and of the things I can no longer remember. It just so happens that tomorrow I will be subjected to my personal torment, tomorrow it will be eight years since he passed.





I can't explain the fear that grips me when I catch a sniff of this smell that seems otherwise offensive less to almost everyone around me. It's like a time capsule taking me back, keeping me forever 12 and in pain because I couldn't save him. I prayed till my voice was horse and knees ached everyday without fail, everyday the same thing, the same plead but in the end I didn't do enough. It's true and foolish(lets remember I was still very much a child)but when he died I had two conflicting thoughts. Why weren't my prayers enough? and How could God do such a thing to me? I looked for people to blame, the doctors, the nurses, the surgeons--why, for a brief moment I wanted nothing more that to become a doctor--but in the end I blamed the person who took him in the first places.





Now, things are different. I still miss him, small things make me want to cry and others make me wish I could have just one last moment with him. One last time to tell him everything I feel. It isn't Catholic Incenses' fault that the one voice I wish I could hear again will never answer me. The voice that used to tell me jokes and stories, who use to even up my ice cream because I was letting it melt. The one whom I share so many things with; traits, habits and passions, all these thing he never got to see.





Tomorrow it will be eight years, the incense will take me tomorrow, to places I haven't been to in a while. Places of deep sorrow and almost constant prickling pain but luckily when I come back, someone will be there to hold my hand, kiss my face, hold and tell me that everything will be fine...with time.

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