so flattered

So, when I first started blogging I intended it to be a way to keep my family updated (we do these regular family "newsletters" and in the past few years I've done a terrible job writing) but unfortunately I epically failed at doing that! Anyway, when I started posting this month I had no idea that so many of you would actually read it! So, this is me saying thank you for reading and I'll try to do better updating on my life and putting up different pieces I've written. Merci!

I almost cut off my finger today.

It was an accident and really nothing happened, so I'm fine, but even though you're a five hour drive away I'd blame you if it had happened.  I was at work, chopping lettuce to be specific, and Our Song came on.  It made me flinch and the blade of my knife shaved my fingernail, it was that close.  Okay so it's not "our" song (it's really not romantic AT ALL) but when we were making dinner that one time this song came on and you got all excited and said how much you like it so I made it your ringtone on my phone and I remember getting chills whenever I'd hear it go off because it meant you wanted to talk to me.  Now when I hear it I feel like I've just taken a meat cleaver to the stomach.  It's ironic, though, because even though it's not "Our Song" it still defines our relationship.  Specifically the last two months.  Our differences were always a concern for you, but to me they were minute, and beautiful.  But I can't change the way you feel about me or anyone else and I don't want to be the one who cuts your wings and make you do something you don't want to do but all I have left to say is that I wonder if loosing my finger would have hurt half as much as loosing you did.

families and reunioning

After spending the past two days with some extended family at the Haynie Family Reunion (and watching Eclipse with K and A) I most definitely have family on the brain.

I remember our reunions used to be these big week-long deals, go camping and rough it out in the woods with no cell phone service and no showers.  The adults had their space, teenagers theirs, and the rest of us were left to wander around and swear not to kill each other.  We'd convene for meals, and in the evenings we'd perform skits and showcase talents for each other.  A week was never long enough, and two years seemed an eternity to wait.  But one year this all changed, people got older and moved further away.  Now the family is bigger (getting married and procreating does that), and we try to accommodate those at all stages of life.  This year we had a luau with some authentic pork and entertainment, rocked the Lehi Legacy pool, those capable went to a temple session, kicked it at Rodizio (thanks again Dave!), and finished up at Aunt Anna's condo/clubhouse.  Bonded with old cousins, met some new ones (Jamie and Adam, ha, I will never forget who you are even if I don't know how we're related), hugged and chased and kissed nieces and nephews, and finally played my first game of quarters.

I must say that my favorite thing about these reunions is people watching.  It's fascinating to watch how one thing, a family, can be so completely different, no family is the same.  I love watching the interactions and picking out the similarities of siblings, then matching these to their parental counterparts.  I like watching the older couples, and although I feel terrible for stealing part of a moment, I love witnesses them look at each other with their lover's glint.  My mother (look Mom I didn't refer to you as Kathy) is worried about my future because I tell her in all seriousness that I'm never getting married and won't have kids, but I'm secretly very excited to join the They and bring my own children to her club house to swim and eat Grandma Cunningham's chocolate cake.

Grandma will still pick up after everyone, the Stailey's will still have the loudest laughs, the Knighton's of course have their strong opinions but won't take responsibility for the decision making, everyone will still be twisting the Heaton's trying to get them to fund the next reunion and the Evans' will still be running on mormon standard time (although I do recall that this time the majority of us were first to arrive to most events!), Melody and Co. will still be new and exciting faces and everyone will be so thrilled Linda has arrived!  I hope that once my generation has become the matriarchs and forerunners for the family that we will still carry on this tradition, but I can't think that far ahead,  it psychs me out too much.  For now I'm content to wait and people watch, and at some point in the near future bring my significant other and laugh as he tries to remember everyone's name and how they fit in our extensive family tree.

a haiku for vous

to the bird whose wings
did lead right into the front
of my pearl white car

want you in my rear window, baby you're sick

I still remember what your cologne tastes like.  I’m ready to be done with you.  With flinching when someone says your name (even when they’re not talking about you), when I see your stupid car drive by, rolling past your number in my phonebook, walking past that restaurant we used to eat at (I still remember what you’d order and how many drinks you’d have before deciding you were full).  I hate waiting for your phone call and damn that song when it plays on the radio.  How does the radio know when I miss you most?  Sometimes I wish we’d never met, the hurt is too overwhelming and I want to curl into a tight ball until I fade away into nothingness.  My friends and the female-empowerment songs I listen to say I’m better off without you, I’m stronger because of your fire and brimstone.  But in the end all I can say is I loved you more than you could know, I miss what we had, but I’m ready to cut this ball and chain and not be suspicious of someone who kisses me on the forehead, and stop hiding in my room on the anniversary of that day we slow danced in the parking lot and I kissed your hand and thought you would be mine forever.

Mcdonald's tastes better in PG

I don’t know what it was but there was something beautiful about you last night.  Perhaps because you were wearing that shirt I picked out for you or your hair was soft and inviting from the wind ripping through it, or for once I got to meet your friends and see how much they loved you.  All I know is I didn’t want you to leave, wanted to share that queen-sized bed again only this time maybe you’d get under the covers with me and I’d accidentally scoot in close enough to touch your cheek with my fingertips.

You really shouldn’t fall asleep like that, laying on your back.  It’s too tempting to steal a kiss.  Or jump on your stomach, I’m fond of both.  But I didn’t and I think that just made me more anxious to be close to you, I’m not sure if you even noticed or if you were too busy looking at the classic cars and avoiding those flower veils I kept trying to put on you.

I wasn’t entirely honest about the dream I had during that nap.  My favorite part wasn’t the large jewelry or the ancient world with it’s warrior princess my subconscious cooked up.  It was you.  So yeah, sorry for the impromptu visit and sorry it's after midnight but I just needed to see you one last time in this 24 hour span.  I know I said it was because Mcdonald’s tastes better in PG, but it doesn’t.  I just wanted you to lean over my shoulder and let me rest my hand on your cheek one more time.

brushing my teeth is my everest

It feels wrong going to bed without you.  I will do anything, anything, to keep from closing my day, because without you it doesn’t feel complete, I don’t feel like I have accomplished anything.  I’ll sit in my swivel chair and spin and spin and spin, curling into myself until I disappear into the pearly black seat; but as I try to shrink away I feel my skin pulling off my bones, stretching beyond resiliency, and I am the epicenter as every inch of me is taught and ready to shatter into a million fragile piece.

Brushing my teeth is like my Everest.  Changing into my pajamas is more gruesome than a contortionist fitting into a carry-on suitcase.  Every night I don’t hear from you is worse than the night terrors, so I lay awake with my eyes wide open and my body straight-jacketed down under two comforters and three fleece blankets, I am freezing and the stillness and silence are screaming at me.  So I fill the noise with Hulu episodes because it’s safer to judge the wardrobe and critique the dialogue than sit around and wait.  I know I won’t wait long.  Loneliness is more impatient than I am, famished and starving for my recently moisturized skin (another procrastination tactic).  Then the movie reel ticks on, and I’m ambushed by every moment, every thought, every you.  I tuck deeper into the covers and squeeze my eyes real tight and set my jaw, because in every junior novel the hero always sets his jaw before meeting a challenge head on and tonight I am alone and left to become my own hero.  

Sometimes I will think of that first night, or that first moment I realized we were brilliant together, and it will make me feel better (actually it will just make me miss you more) and then I’ll fall asleep and wake up in the morning and everything is fine, the tempest has passed, and I’ll go about my day until something reminds me of you and then my chest will start to ache where my heart is supposed to be but I don’t think it is because I’ve never had a chest X-ray and since you left I’ve lost a lot of weight, but that’s about when the ache will move to that lump in my neck and I’ll take a deep breath and tell myself everything is fine, but I know I’ll chastise myself tonight for being weak as I’m wrestling my make up off and pacing around my room trying to force the walls back because I can’t breath and this new night alone feels like my impending doom.

I’m hoping that by writing this down I’ll feel better, like admitting a lie or telling a complete stranger a secret relieves pressure.  This pencil feels heavy and I’m tired of looking at my handwriting so I think I’ll get a head start on Loneliness and think about that time you kissed me so hard we fell off the couch laughing and holding each other tight.

for you, Kat Poo

So I got called out by one Katheryn B. and since then I've been trying to think of something truly profound to write, but since reading Andy's blog I have been feeling prosey, so bear with me as I post some stuff that I don't know how to define and let me know what you think haha