Dean's List, Myrtle Beach, and Other Ramblings

Rambling ahead. Don't hold it against me.

This post is long overdue, but it is finally my winter break. I can exhale now.

*exhales*

I remember typing my posting before this one and how I was slightly stressed about finals, final portfolios, final papers, and all that comes with the life of an English major, Creative Writing minor. Those endless sleepless nights, AKA all-nighters, paid off because I made the Dean's List this semester with a 3.75 (Oh yeah!) and I am quite proud of myself for my hard work, slight bitching and moaning  about anal professors, and delving into my fiction while pushing my poetry to the side. Since I'm on break, I can focus on both my fiction and my poetry, mainly poetry, and then switch again for next semester.

Christmas has come and gone, and I miss it already. To say I love Christmas may be an understatement. For me, it's not about the gifts (though I love giving them more than receiving them) but about the positive energy and the lights, the decorations and the overall festiveness that is tied with it. To adorn the tree with colorful round ornaments, handmade ornaments, ornaments that have sentimental values, tons of garland and ribbon and candy canes makes me smile and brings forth my inner child as I see the magic tied to the holiday. I'm not a religious person so I don't focus on what some call the "Reason for the Season" aspect of it, though I recognize Jesus, but for me, it's about happiness and love. I love it. As far as gifts are concerned, I received two pairs of earrings, Mickey Mouse curtains, pillow, and fleece blanket (What can I say other than I love Mickey & Minnie?), rainboots, money, an engraved silver jewelry box with the Yin & Yang symbol, an awesome and very cute large overnight bag (Purple, at that!), and makeup. My best friend bought me the last three items, and I must say that the jewelry box is my favorite. I adore her.

The family and I went to Myrtle Beach on Saturday, December 18th and returned home on Thursday, December 23rd. It was a fun trip and though it was cold, I saw the ocean and stood on the beach for the first time in my life. Yes, I'm twenty-one. Yes, I know I'm late. I enjoyed every freezing minute of it and standing at the shoreline to look out at the gray skies and blending horizon is so inspiring that I honestly don't know how to describe it other than breathtaking. I could spend hours just sitting on the balcony of my tenth floor hotel room and staring at the scenery around me. I'd planned on writing a lot while I was there, but that didn't happen, so I guess the material will come when it is ready.

I Can Taste Vacation...

...and it tastes like sleep, sweet potatoes, and Christmas.

Thanksgiving break commences next week, and to say I'm ready is an understatement. I've been waiting for this break since, oh, September, when professors decided it was perfectly acceptable to drown their students in a plethora of textbooks relating to the apocalypse, clones, Puritans and the founding of America, and a bunch of other early American literature and contemporary literature. Along with workshopping fiction pieces, skimming through Spanish 2001, I'm one exhausted woman. But I won't have a Thanksgiving break, at least not in the "Let's-do-nothing" break. No, I have to outline and write a minimum ten page paper for my Contemporary American & British Literature class, study for my Spanish 2001 final (which occurs at 8:15AM December 3rd--EEK!!), and revise my fiction portfolio (due December 1st), and study for one other final.

Is it Christmas yet?

Lala

Rekindling the Affair with Words

Jill Scott's acoustic version of "Bedda at Home" plays (on repeat) while I empty my mind of the poetic fragments that have plagued it for some time, and also this posting. I didn't have internet access for about 6 days while on vacation, and although it drove me a bit insane when I needed the internet and didn't have it, for the most part I wasn't terribly upset about not being able to log on to my Twitter or my Facebook, or even to check my email (though I did regret having literally hundreds of emails once I got back home). I enjoyed the utter simplicity of being "internet-less."

While on vacation I did write about (*checks TextEdit document on my Macbook*) six new pieces that I may or may not post on here, or my erotica blog, or even my Facebook. I want them to remain with me and  only me for some more time because I want to make sure what I wrote is where I want it to be. Hope that's not confusing.

I've been dabbling in haiku's lately because I love the simplistic complexity nature, which is also what I am. No, not a haiku, but a simplistic complexity, hence the blog title. Haikus force the writer to delve deep into the abyss, search for the correct word, and bring it to surface. So, you may be seeing more haiku's from me, and I hope you like them. If I ever upload them, that is.

Lala

Hasty Update While Listening to Chants

First off, I am a Buddhist, and proud of it.

Secondly, I am multi-tasking. Watching Meryl Streep's film, Julie & Julia, and I love it. Well, I love Meryl Streep as she is an exception actress who dedicates herself to her craft and brings her audience the best performances. I'm also listening to the slow chant of the Gongyo so that I can learn it and be happy and proud. I found Buddhism at the right time, but we won't talk about it here or now because that deserves a post of its own.

I have decided to finish the YA novel I started when I was, oh, fifteen years old. I need to drag out my old iBook and look over the first couple of pages. Well, more than first couple of pages because I think the almost novel has about 60+ pages. I may switch up a few things in it, but more than likely I'll leave it the way it is and work from there. Let's hope I finish it this summer (or at least sometime in December) and get everything together. I also want to write a book of poetry. There's nothing like a good book of poetry that you can relate to, and you sit in your favorite chair curled up with a blanket and tissues because the author has managed to tap into your soul and yank your feelings away from you, turn them into words, and decorate the pages. I want my poetry to make you laugh, cry, scream, and shout. I want it to make you open your eyes and stretch your perception to lengths you didn't know existed. So, I'm going to work on both projects (already commenced the book of poetry as I've written eight poems in the past week, and that's pretty slow).

Catch up with you later.

Lala

Sickness Plagues Me

I'm still plagued by germs. *cough, sneeze*

Doc appointment yesterday. Gave me meds, drained my ears (Yay! I can hear again!) and after stopping by to turn in my paperwork and get my Cookie Monster sticker, Ma and I headed to the movies to see Just Wright. Cute movie. I'll edit this post to review it later. Right now, I just want this cold to go away and not come back.

Lala

Sore Throat Number 239,122,123

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!


That's the sound of me screaming. Well, attempting to scream since I have a very sore throat, a horrendous earache (including not being able to fully hear out of my right ear), and a extremely queasy stomach. [SIGH] I just want it to be over. I don't know about you, but I despise being sick. Who wants to feel ridiculous amounts of congestion, piercing headaches, waves of nausea, and a throat so red and swollen you can barely talk? Not me. I didn't realize it until late yesterday that it's my "time" to get sick. See, I have a wonderful immune system: I get sick once every two years. It comes in handy, having a predetermined sick period, and it allows for you to not schedule anything during that time. The last time my body felt this way was the week of May 30th, 2008. Or whenever the first SATC movie came out. I remember going to see the film, getting home at two-thirty in the morning, and waking up only to discover that my voice was gone and my throat was sore. Yeah, it wasn't pretty. I didn't have my voice for 5-7 days, and having to write down everything got tiring after the first, oh, page or so. My mother made an appointment for me to go to the doctor first thing in the morning, so we'll see how that goes. Oh, did I mention I dislike going to the doctor? Ho-hum.

Thinking Erotic Thoughts

I haven't written erotica since December and I don't know why chop it up to not "feeling some type of way." Wait. Scratch that. I have had sensual feelings residing within me, but poetry just hasn't manifested. My Mac is plagued with random lines that'll pop into my psyche and so I type them onto my "Poetry Fragments" document and leave it at that. Every now and then I visit the fragments and hope that inspiration hits so I can write. No such luck. I don't like saying I have writer's block because I don't believe in it. I'd rather say that the material just isn't ready to be written, and that's fine by me. 

Oh yeah, I guess I should tell you this. All erotica (old and new poetry) will no longer be on this blog. It will be on a separate blog, http//:yourserotically.blogspot.com. It's still a work in progress so bare with me, please, and I promise will deliver poetry to you as it comes. No pun intended. 

Lala

They Plague My Mind

Yes, they do.

They plague my mind and whisper in my ear throughout the day. Clutter, mental confusion; decorating my psyche with their taunting energy and insane wickedness. I hear them and I fail at quelling their call; I am unable to pacify their endless imploring.

Sigh.

Poetry fragments, why must you do this to me?

The Inhalation of You (Lesbian Poem)

The look in her eyes
tells me everything
I want to know.
Mirrors my feelings.
Mirrors my thoughts.
My emotions reside
in my head
and not my heart and I,
as silently as possible
tell her to explore.
Taste the yoni with
delicate measures
of tongue and finger.
Watch me exude pleasure
you offer, you give,
you bestow.
My mouth opens, slightly,
trace my lips
with tongue.
Feel heat,
probe further,
vibrations rise.
Yoni enjoys the
pampering treatment.
Bury yourself in me.
I'll suffocate you,
remove the life of you,
and place it inside me.
I'll breathe your breaths,
beat your heart,
while you steal me
with permission.
Take my feelings,
my thoughts, make them
yours as you go deeper
and my breath is staccato.
Air
escapes
and
I inhale...
you while...
you...
exhale you...
Yoni takes it all
and I shake
uncontrollably.
Pleasure heightens.
Breath becomes you.

Detox Complete

I feel so refreshed.

After voluntarily slipping into that milky white jacket, shuffling to the comfortable room with cushioned walls and a padded floor, I found my sanity 6 days later. I'm known for quietly slipping away and so this time I whispered to a few people that I would be escaping to my comfortable place, so they shouldn't be worried in the least because I was fine-even though I wasn't. For six days, I did not send a single tweet and only a minimum amount of contact on Facebook. One of my friends lives just nine steps away from me, and I didn't go to her room for four days. I didn't call people, and I only accepted phone calls that were important. Call it whatever the fuck you want, but I call it regaining sanity in an insane world.