and the final!!!

phew... i made it. it's not a glorious finish or one that requires applause, but it is certainly a sigh of relief on my part.

i think i needed this forced pen to paper sort of experience... but i think i also have realized that i am truly a pen to paper type of writer. it's the way i've always done it. my thoughts just don't really flow unless i have a pen in my hand. i'm old school.... i suspect that some of you are, too.... :)

so, i won't be blogging anymore unless it's a calling. but i will write. i will buy a brand spankin' new notebook to hide away my deepest and most superficial thoughts. and i'll go back to working on my poetry book... i haven't touched it since my first week in vancouver. it's time.

and i'm going to have my second attempt at knitting. if at first you don't succeed, take a break and do something else... and revisit it when you're ready :)

29

Blogging for 30 days once sounded like fun, but it's become a dull daily task that i feel i must do to appease my perfectionist spirit. so here i go...

what a day. clean, rest, clean, rest, nap, run errands, blog. blow nose. blow nose. cough.

this hasn't been the best of days. but one good thing did happen. i was talking on the phone to my best friend emily who lives in boston, and whose baby i haven't met yet! we were chatting about our plans for the next few months when she mentioned going home for passover... immediately i realized we'd be home in baton rouge at the same time! i love our friendship... these things always seem to happen with us :)

now i'm going to watch "the other boleyn girl"... i'll let  you know what i think of it in my next blog.

day of rest

today was a day of rest. i woke up with what felt like cotton balls in my throat. immediately, i called in sick, took medicine, and went back to bed. when i woke up several hours later, i retreated to the living room where i enjoyed a slow cup of coffee and i folded about 2 weeks worth of laundry.

it was a quiet day. i did go out to run a few quick errands and to take a walk on the seawall. the cool fresh air renewed me, and the walk tired me out enough to head home for a deep and healing nap. 

now i am feeling much better. i still have cotton balls in my throat, but they aren't so overwhelming or exhausting. i'll have another long and restful sleep tonight, and hopefully will be as good as new in just a few days.

i'm glad that i listened to my body. i'm 31 years old, and i might just be finally learning that mind over matter when it comes to illness is really just a load of crap. sleep and rest heal everything.

whatever

i'm tired. i'm really, really tired. and i want to run away. this feeling comes over me every few months... i think i inherited my mom's run-away-from-your-problems way of life. when things were bad at home, we hopped in the car for a day trip to new orleans... i need a day trip to new orleans.

i can remember saturday mornings, waking up, wandering into the living room only to see my mom dressed and ready. she'd surprise us with, "who wants to go to new orleans for the day?" and it was a day. we'd stop off at the esprit outlet, the only store that ever sold clothes that fit me, and head downtown for lunch. then we'd head to the mall, where we'd shop for the rest of the day. at that time, new orleans had all the stores we didn't have in baton rouge. 

after a long, exhausting day, we'd head home. we'd find my dad there, tired from a long day working either in the yard or his shop. and we'd all sit down for dinner and a quiet night of tv.

having moved to canada, i get that running away doesn't eliminate your problems, but it sure does make you forget about them for a moment in time.

they say it's a club

a club for those of us who've lost a parent. it's a strange thing... when i meet someone my own age who has also lost a parent, there is a strange bond. it's like they feel your soul. they known the pain that is knowing you will never see your mom or dad again.

and there's nothing like it. distance is not the same, whether geographical or emotional. a rift is not the same. it is the final separation that makes it something unique. it is the knowledge that a part of you is gone forever and will never return. it is the process of seeing your parent's remains put to rest, whatever that means in your circumstance.

my daddy was cremated. we put him remains in a simple bronze urn--a box really--that he would have liked. and we carried him, my sister and i, to the mausoleum. he was heavy... surprisingly so. we carried him from the church, past the tennis courts in the back, to his own father's grave, with friends and family following close behind. on the way, my sister whispered to me, " Wouldn't it be funny if we swerved around and tried to get everyone to follow? That's something Daddy would have done..." It was like my daddy had whispered the idea on the wind for only us to hear. We kept walking, giggling amidst our tears.

putting the urn in with my grandfather's coffin in the wall of the mausoleum changed me. i'd never seen my grandfather's coffin (they open the wall when adding remains)... he died the year i was born. i liked thinking of my daddy reuniting with his own daddy. i felt like i could leave him there forever.

that was my initiation. it was the combination of tears shed from a place so deep within and learning a new level of pain and loss and facing my own mortality that proved me worthy. so i carry the key. i joined the club. i am a lifetime member.

back to basics

i'm feeling like i want to get back to basics. i want to streamline my needs and wants, and clean up the messiness that surrounds them.

needs

*more sleep

*more varied exercise

*healthier food options

*more time with friends and fam

*focus on goals

wants

*more savings

*more vacations

*more time to enjoy everything

and that's that.

2 AM

i'm sitting here on the sofa at 2 AM. i woke up three hours ahead across the country in ottawa... so it feels more like 5 AM. i haven't done this in a while.

i'm not even sleepy anymore, but my arms are aching (a sure sign that i'm going to pass out any minute now). it was a very, very long day. 

after a long flight from ottawa to calgary, during which i was perpetually elbowed by a man who asked me what "fresh produce" was, i had a short flight to vancouver. when we arrived in vcbc, my bag didn't. until about 45 minutes later when they finally fixed the jam... yes, a jam. 45 minutes to get someone to come out who was qualified to move one bag out of the way. it sucked. but at least my bag made it. 

unfortunately, shaun has to be at work at his usual time... the delay was not so good for him. 

and so now i sit on the sofa writing this blog, waiting for a deep and wonderful sleep to come over me.

Number Twenty-three

Day 23, already? How did that happen? I guess that's the nature of life; it just goes by very quickly.

i don't have much to say. it's not saturday, but i'm writing my saturday blog. honestly, i think the novelty of blogging has worn off... i'm growing weary of forcing myself to share thoughts... i think i'm more of a write when i'm inspired kinda girl. regardless, i do enjoy a challenge, so i will persevere!

ottawa. seriously, how did i end up here? i'm thinking that i could never have predicted the direction my life has turned! it's been quite the adventure, full of laughs and tears, but always surprising.

i guess i'll stick around to see where i end up next!

claustrophobia

anxiety is no stranger to me. nor are panic attacks. fortunately, i've only experienced hyperventilation once, and i hope to never experience it again. but claustrophobia i experience everyday.

my claustrophobia is the type that's triggered when i am surrounded by people. you can put me in a cave or a closet, and i'll be fine. but please don't make me stand in a crowd. please don't surround me with people or i will freak out. i used to have mini panics when i was teaching. if i was seated and the kids crowded me, i'd flap my hands around... they knew that meant to go back to their seats. i couldn't handle it... i just couldn't handle it...

it also happens in clothing stores. perhaps that's why i'm not the best shopper. i'm great if i'm alone in the store, but if you add swarming teenagers and clueless moms to the mix, i'm heading for the exit before i break out in a sweat.

but today i braved one of the worst... h&m... i was okay until i got cornered between two gossiping workers and a pile of trendy hoodies... but i wasn't ready to quit. instead of the exit, i made way for the elevator. it got better until i found the accessories. that did it, and away i went.

i guess this is just who i am. i'll reserve my shopping for the big open malls in the south where i can wander freely and without fear of suffocation. 

i can't handle it... i just can't handle it...

shaun

i'm in toronto tonight, far from my beloved shaun. this used to be a way of life for us, but for nine months now, i've been lucky enough to share my days and nights with him. so it's strange to be here, without him. 

i do love being independent and having my own things going on, but i also really like knowing that we are in this together. as much as i talk smack about him, the truth is that i love him more than my words could ever say. he is good for me; i am good for him. we make a good team.

i like to think that people come into our lives to leave a mark. sometimes it's for only a season, and then we move on, somehow changed. and others come along for a lifetime to build a support and to propel us toward our own personal greatness. i can honestly say of most people i know that they have either changed me, my ways of being, or my views in some way, big or small. i don't regret any friendships or any relationships, no matter how crummy. and i think shaun came along at a time when i was ready to "begin" my life.

he doesn't put up with my ruminations of the past or my self doubt or self pity. he correctly labels my issues as "retardations," which makes me see my stupid insecurities for what they really are. and she makes me want to be a better me.

enough said.

table

i had nothing to write about today, so i asked shaun to give me a word. i should have known better... he said "table."

strangely enough, i have a few thoughts on the subject. you see, my daddy was a carpenter--no, he was a fine furniture maker. he made tables and chairs and armoires and swings and benches and jewelry boxes and cubby cubes (personal request of mine!) and baby doll cribs. he even made cedar chests and chests of drawers and headboards and stools. he used cedar and cherry wood as well as (my favorite) maple and cypress. one of my favorite things he did was use wood pegs instead of nails. if he used nails, they were old and rustic and lovely. 

my dad (his name was van) had very strong opinions about furniture. when i requested square box cubbies, he had a hard time keeping them simple. but i pleaded, and he made them very streamlined just for me. i love them. they are made of cherry and the longer i have them, the more rich and beautiful the grain becomes. did you know that? as cherry wood ages, it's color grows deeper and the grain becomes more pronounced. 

his furniture was strong and feminine and graceful and rooted. it was heavy and solid, yet most of the pieces have an air of playfulness about them. my dad told me that when i slept, the furniture pranced and danced around my bedroom. my bedside table had legs so lovely any woman would fight for them. his furniture had curves and lines that could inspire, but they were hella hard to keep dust free. i loved dusting, mostly because i could run my little fingers across the smooth and delicious chocolatey surface, wiping away a layer of dust and unveiling a shiny and wonderful piece of art.

so, as i think about tables, i think about my dad. i think about the habit of keeping a large piece of cedar in my clothing drawers and closet. 

and i think about my dad's ability to make magic out of everything, including tables.

i forget things

here is how it works: you tell me something or we have a nice conversation, and i immediately forget about it. two years later, i remember it as clear as day. my short term memory sucks. it's just really bad.

but i will remember things forever and in great detail if you give me long enough.

it's a frustration i've always had to deal with... i guess it's just one of those things that is okay as long as i can work around it. i write everything down and repeat often. i take mental photographs and send myself emails. i run mental checklists constantly. 

meanwhile, i fill in the gaps with memories from years ago.

i remember what my kindergarden classroom looked like. i remember my mom rocking me to sleep at night when i used to have ear infections (this is a vivid one... i was less than 2 years old). i remember learning how to put my coat on by myself in preschool. i remember all of my teachers names from elementary, middle, and high school. 

i remember it all. unless it happened today. ask me again in two years.

style icons

i've never been all that traditional when it comes to style. i love "cute" and "fun" as much as i love "elegant" and "classy." and i've always found inspiration in a random assortment of people...

first, there was clarissa of "clarissa explains it all." st

riped tights, bright colors, and a funky personality... and she had a cool alligator named elvis living in her bedroom!

and then there was mary richards (mary tyler moore), who embodied the young woman i so desperately wanted to be! she was beautiful and stylish and graceful, but awkward and funny and quirky. she was both in control and completely lost, and i could flip the bottom of my hair up just like hers.

there have been others... but these two are my all time favorites. 

i haven't been inspired in a long time. and i want to be. so i'm putting it out there... i'm ready for a new muse. 

f. scott fitzgerald

of all the things that shaun and i have in common, these two are my favorites: we both claim the catcher in the rye as our favorite book and we both claim the great gatsby as one of our most hated. the only book that has a place in our shared living room is The Catcher.... mostly because of our shared love of it, but also because shaun would disapprove of any other book i'd like to display, and i'd disapprove of any book he'd choose to display. but on these two books, shaun and i agree.

so today when i learned that my least favorite writer, f. scott fitzgerald wrote the original story of a movie i love dearly, i felt cold and vulnerable. my opinion of this stupid, stupid man may have to change. how could the man who wrote the frustrated mess that is the great gatsby also write such a beautiful story as the curious case of benjamin button??

i'm afraid that i have no answers for myself tonight. this one might just take time...

jessica simpson

i think i owe a nod to jessica simpson. i will dedicate this blog to her.

several years ago, when i was recently single, i discovered something about jessica. she can make you laugh even in the sadest of times. One night while out shopping/playing at walmart with a friend, i bought the "newlyweds" box set on impulse. i was a fan of the show and needed a little pick-me-up. i brought the videos home and played the hell out of them. i spent hours sitting in front of my tv, laughing my ass off and forgetting why i was sad in the first place.

i was inspired by the relationship jessica and nick had; i figured that if they could have such a relationship, then so could i. fortunately, by the time they divorced, my heart was mended and it had no effect on me!

i made up a game i liked to call "what would jessica do?" in moments of total boredom, i would play the game, silently. in the middle of a boring saturday, i would ask myself, "what would jessica do?" the answer was frequently go shopping, but sometimes it was more exciting than that. i would do things that kaycie would never do, like buy a fun color of fingernail polish at rite aid and paint my toenails. i would sometimes even just carry my purse like her so that i could feel different. inevitably, my game would do the trick! it would get me out of a rut. it made me stand up straighter and take more time to fix my hair. i have to admit, i even walked around my apartment in heels a few times.

and so, as jessica struggles with the power that words have over all of us humans, i give her a nod. if i had a diet coke, i would even pour some out for her, my homie.

it's not so much a roller coaster... maybe more of a tea cup?

i used to think that life was like a chart, with highs and lows, moments of extrapolation and interpolation. but i'm starting to think this whole cycle of life concept may be much more accurate. it's cyclical and in constant motion, sometimes revisiting the same spot over and over again.

life... it's not so much a roller coaster, which basically is either going up or down. it's more like the tea cups in disney world... moments of calm and moments of feeling pulled in all different directions while moving very fast. i think it's important to say at this point in my analogy that i do love the tea cups. i love the feeling of knowing that the whole ride is about to change and knowing that i have no control over it. i love knowing that as long as i hold on tight and ride out the wild parts, everything will be okay.

i like thinking of life this way because it opens up how we experience it. a roller coaster type of image creates a clear delineation between good and bad; everything over the center is good and anything under is bad. but it just doesn't work that way.

"when it is darkest, you can see the stars."

what a powerful statement. when we are most vulnerable, we feel the most. when we are saddest, we most easily recognize a moment of joy. when we are wrapped in darkness, even the tiniest beam of light can bring us back to life.

life is a tea cup. it spins, one way and the other in no apparent order. just when you think you are going left, you suddenly swing right. when you are sure the ride is over, it speeds up. you move in what seems to be a circle, but cover new ground all the time. sometimes, your teacup seems stuck... and maybe it is. you have to try something new, and until you do, your teacup sits, motionless. the ride goes on, but your teacup is just watching the other teacups go by. and perhaps most importantly, despite the moments of nausea and frustration, the ride is pretty damn fun.

so i'm going to sit in my teacup and allow life- in all its glory- to take me on one wild ride.

like salt on a wound

my original plan for blogging tonight was going to be a deeply meaningful list of those things i want in this life. but then i opened my email...

and this is what i found.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Police responded to the first fatal shooting just before midnight Friday. 

They were called to a home in the 3000 block of Iroquois Street, Kelley said. A man at that location told police he had been repeatedly pistol whipped and that another man had been shot at 123 Live Oak St. 

When detectives arrived at the apartment complex, they found Louis Hall, 57, 1808 Brightside Drive, dead in the parking lot, Kelley said. Hall had been shot in the head. 

Lt. Charles Armstrong, a police spokesman, said Anthony Miles, 29, was arrested almost immediately after police found Hall's body. 

Armstrong said the attacks seem to have stemmed from a disagreement between the victims and Miles. 

Police have not released the identity of the beating victim. Armstrong said his injuries were not life-threatening and that he was taken to an area hospital for treatment. 

Miles, who lives in the complex were the killing occurred, was booked into Parish Prison with first-degree murder of Hall, attempted first-degree murder in the pistol-whipping case, and illegal use of a weapon.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Louis Hall was "Big Lou" to me. He was a good man and my dad's friend. They worked together, and bonded in spite of all the differences between the two men. It was a relationship that fascinated me beyond any other. Big Lou would come to our house to help my dad do things like move wood (my dad was a fine furniture maker) and move stones for the landscaping of our yard. Together, they were loud and distracting. My dad was 6'4" with wily brown curls and bright blue eyes that could pierce your soul. Lou was about the same height with a giant smile and truly black skin. They were an odd couple. But they were friends, and they took care of each other.

Lou had been tried on rape charges in his younger years because he was in the wrong place and a very wrong time. He was known to be innocent and was granted freedom by the governor of Louisiana. At that point, he became the governor's right-hand-man. He was to taste the governor's food to make sure it wasn't poisoned (believe it or not, this was an honor...) and was given back the respect he'd lost while in prison. He was given work and allowed to begin his life again.

And so, as I read these words, I just feel very sad. I think of Big Lou sitting on the swing with my dad, drinking black coffee. And I imagine his family, who loved him dearly. And I think about the senselessness of his murder. I hope he knows how much I liked him and how much my dad respected him.

Perhaps they are sipping coffee on a swing somewhere together.

cuteness

i am the type of person who squeals when she sees something cute. i always have. i never expected myself to grow out of it (as many others did) because it's just who i am. i had posters of puppies and teddy bears on my wall as a kid, and i can barely look at a kitten because i can stand how cute it is!

my best friend, emily, and i frequently share our cute experiences. when she went to japan, she took pictures of cuteness and sent them to me. i send her letters (old school) with only the cutest stickers adorning the envelope.

i draw turtles wearing top hats and bunnies with one ear flopped down.

i love cuteness!

when i met shaun, he informed me that my use of "cute" as a response to everything was a southern thing... i disagree... i think it's a kaycie thing.

and as much as i complain about vancouver, i have to say... it wins the cuteness award!!!

here is a list of all the cute things i've seen in the last few weeks:

*a stuffed panda bear the size of a small boy waving it's arms in a convenience store window (the small boy doing the puppet work was almost unnoticeable!)

*a tiny little dog who couldn't jump onto the curb... his owner had to sort of pull him up!

*a doberman carrying his owner's grocery bag... i walked two blocks behind him, squealing the whole way!!

*two pugs, one black and one white, appearing to engage in conversation

*a giant great dane, only 10 months old weighing in at 178 lbs... resting on the floor of the elevator

honestly, i could go on, but i just can't handle all the cuteness!! **squeal!!!**

jon and kate plus 8

tonight, shaun watched "jon and kate plus 8" with me... he likes the show, secretly, but has serious issues with kate. i heard the word bitch a lot while watching tonight (what's up, bitches?!!). i'm afraid i have to admit he's right.

this family is pretty special to me. i love to watch them do really normal things like laundry and dinner. and i love to talk about them! my favorite girl is leah. she's just adorable!!! but i think alexis has the best personality... she's crazy! i like aaden, too, mostly because he's a space cadet. 

shaun and i were debating jon as we watched earlier... shaun says he's whipped, but i think he's just a nice guy who is trying very hard to be a good dad despite his wife. he's a cutie, and i love how he challenges his kids to do things they're afraid of. my dad was like that. he taught me to be a daredevil, and i love it! it's good for kids to have a dad like that :)

kate has some serious issues... she's had quite the attitude lately. shaun said she has a big head. i told him it was because they got a treadmill and she's losing weight so her head looks bigger... i was quickly corrected by shaun explaining that he was referring to her ego! ha ha! 

so, as i wind down this blog, i realize that i never had a point in writing anything. i'm having a hard time focusing lately... my dreams are filled with work and life stress, and i'm just not relaxed enough to be creative. anyhoo, at least the only bitch in this blog was kate!

happy president's day!

i don't want to blog today, but i will anyway.

as you can probably tell from my last few blogs, i'm in a weird head space. not entirely unhappy, but certainly not at my best. i think it's a combination of things: missing home and family and friends, stress, need of a vacation, and general frustration.

i have a plan for some of these things including a trip home early April and some life changes when i return. i have a lot of baggage to either unpack and put away or eliminate altogether. the last few years have been some of the roughest, and i guess it's just time to deal with it all. these things have a way of not just disappearing, no matter hard i try to pretend they aren't there...

for now, i will give myself time to just sit in life's mess and allow time to pass by... 

i know it's valentine's day, but...

i'm just not in a lovey-dovey mood. so instead of gushing about by bf, i'll make a list of phrases and words that annoy me. that's the kind of mood i'm in (i know, poor shaun...)

1. price point... why not just say price?

2. also, too... usually said in error, but some make a habit of it

3. over top... you need an article!!!! try the!

4. sweet... i knew a boy who said this, and i didn't like him... 

5. no worries... i know, i'm just being picky.

so, this is just the tip of the iceberg that is all that annoys me. happy valentine's day, ya'll.

the dark side

nope. this isn't a post about depression. it's not about the moon. it's not about my bouts with rebellion.

it's about my beloved star wars.

i was born the same year the original star wars film premiered, so i feel that i have a certain connection to it. i love the grainy film and the classic special effects. and i love the story. i never tire of it. i could watch the entire series, even the new pre-trilogy, endlessly and on loop. i think about it in my everyday life. i indulge my imagination and pretend that i can tour the spaceships. i dream of flying the fighter ships. and i am convinced that one day i will, too, be a jedi.

perhaps it is my need to believe in a power greater than myself. just think, if jesus had called his disciples "jedi knights" christianity would be the coolest religion out there! 

perhaps it is my love of the myth. the universal truth that lies behind the quest and the journey. the desire to go forth, be tested, and prove oneself to be worthy. 

perhaps it is the romance. brother and sister separated at birth, never knowing the other existed. and the power of the universe in all its glory bringing them together again through a lowly man surviving magnificent circumstances. and the love story between leia and hans solo. 

perhaps it is darth vadar, the dark one who was once so good. the promised one, even, who fell from grace.

whatever the reason, i love star wars. i love how it makes me believe in people and in myself. i love how it examines the dark side, acknowledging its awesome power and close proximity to goodness. i love the characters and their flaws. and i love the progression. 

when i moved to vcbc, i brought four groups of movies with me, which i think explains who i am. i brought the star wars box set, the lord of the rings box set, the harry potter series, and an assortment of old movies recorded on vhs (mostly audrey hepburn and hayley mills movies).

i thrive on the journey. i need to know that a path that travels through darkness (whether it be outer space, depression, evil, or mordor) will lead to someplace safe and loving. and i need to know that i am not the only one on this journey.

and so i will continue to consult with my guidebooks--the bible and my movies collection--to find my way through the darkness.

armed with my faith and a light saber, everything is gonna be alright.

may the force be with you.

 

Love Eternal

Eternal

My heart is a volcano

Draped over with blue skies

that peek through dust-laden billows

The grand branches

of a stately oak reach up, arms extended,

catching stardust

as it falls.

And my phoenix rises,

blazing and eternal

casting shadows

on the sun.

i remember

when hurricane katrina swept through louisiana, i was there. i spent the night at my mom's house, sleeping on the couch. when we awoke, our lives were changed. we were changed. my sister and her husband had been traveling across the west... they'd reached california when they got the call.

my brother-in-law's cousin had been killed the night before by a drunk driver. she was driving her two sons to the video store when it happened. they boys were ok, but were in the hospital, and were without their mother. my sister and her husband drove home over the next two days, only to find they could not return to their home. the city was blockaded... no one in and no one out.

for days we heard reports of what was happening. it was too scary to be real. death. destruction. destitution. when we finally got power back, we saw it. it was too real to absorb. the places i'd known my whole life were washed beneath the strange salt waters of lake pontchartrain... the superdome was flooded... 2000 people were dead. no one was allowed to go home. so they came to baton rouge.

i volunteered with friends from church to work with a group of children and families who'd been left homeless by the flood waters. it was our task to make them smile again. we played games and told stories and listened to music. but none of us could see past this terrible turn of events. everyone had a story of a relative or a friend who was still missing... an aunt or a son who'd left the city, but whom no one had heard from since. there were lists... lists of people who'd been found.... lists of people who were still missing... and lists of those found lifeless.

a part of me died that week. our town was enveloped in a cloud of distress so dark i thought we'd never see clearly again. hearts heavy and minds twisted like wrought iron gates. these things were not supposed to happen. and yet they did.

when my sister and brother-in-law were finally able to go home 2 months later, they brought with them the two boys. it was a trying time, to say the least. home was no longer a sanctuary. life was no longer innocent. and yet they survived. several months later, the boys' father decided to raise them. they were moved to houston, where they still live today. my sister and her husband moved to a new home. there, they were able to start anew. they were able to build a new life. they were able to focus on growth and the future and move past loss and the past.

she

flashing, spinning, the lights surround her—
faces of those she does not know
faces that seem to say, “you are not good enough”
but I know she is
she is better than most
for me, she is the sun,
the stars, the sky
endless love—childhood jealousies aside.
she is beauty
she is love
she is god’s great gift.
I see her doubts
her fears—
she covers them, filling the silence
with yeah’s and wow’s
smiling against the darkness
I see consuming her…
and I stand paralyzed,
wishing I could just hold her
and let her cry
wishing she’d just let the walls crumble…
the little girl inside
I long to hold.
she is burdened; I am not
and life is not fair, but it is in balance
I understand now why she was so angry…
I see she needs me, but I feel helpless
and let my tears for her fall in silence.


i found a new joy in the katrina children, as we called them, who joined our schools. there was chloe, a bright young ball of energy and emotion, and tommy, the quiet one who wasn't ready to talk about it. they shared their journeys with us and taught us to feel be sad. they helped us mourn. and they encouraged us to grow as they rooted themselves in this new world.

tommy

eyes rubbed red and raw
he hunches over the paper
nervously curling a corner
obviously distracted…
I kneel, eye to red eye
he sees me, I think
he hears me, I think
over the white noise in his mind
questions and answers
barely audible
he’s too distracted
I long to reach out
hold him
take away the pain
but the walls keep me out
he’s lost everything
but he won’t lose himself
strong walls
that will never be breached
so I smile and tell a silly story
and I know he sees me
if only for a moment
then, eyes wide,
he smiles back


it is just over three years later, and i still can't believe it. i am eternally grateful that my sister and family were so far away when katrina came, and i am relieved to know that life has begun again. but i will never forget. i will always remember the night She changed out lives forever.

hazy shade of winter

hurricane gray
sweeping my eyes
washing me with sorrow;
sleep, my only salvation...
lethargy and lifelessness
invading my core
filling the gaps where light was once let in.

aunts

as may approaches, my thoughts turn to an event that will surely change me and my life. my only sibling, my big sister, will have her first child. we know it will be a boy, and i know he will be more special than anyone. he will be mine... my nephew... and i can't wait to kiss his tiny nose.

it's my turn. i finally get to fill the shoes of the ones i've loved so much.

aunt mary smiled at me with her eyes. she still does. the tone of her voice changes when she says my name, "kaycie noodle." i know how much she loves me because she tells me in her hug. i am her sister's baby; i am the one who loved her as much as she loved me. when i think of the talk we had on the sofa at my cousin mallory's baptism, i cry. she could see my suffering in a way no one else could. it was our first adult conversation. i, in my 17 year old body knew for the first time why god gives us aunts.

donna was the aunt who needed no "aunt." she nurtured my love of hello kitty and sweet tea. she showed me that you can be super fun and good at the same time. and she is the only person i know whose love for my mom rivals my love for my mom. she was an orphan, but never played the victim. and i'll never tire of hearing her say, with a slight twang in her voice, "kaycie noodle!" she is my god mother and one of my favorite people in this world. when i see her, i love myself more. we had our first real adult conversation recently on facebook when she reminded me how wonderful my daddy could be and how much she loved and misses him. he loved her, too.

so now it's my turn. with tears in my eyes, i look forward to the future in a way i never have before. this little boy will change my world and i can only hope to make my aunts proud.

favorites

my brain is mushy today, so i'm going to make another list.

these are my favorite things in no particular order.

1. when shaun dances
2. that first sip of coffee after sleeping in on saturday mornings
3. electricity in the air just before a summer storm... it's a baton rouge thing
4. lightening
5. my mom
6. hummus
7. hello sushi! (the cutest, yummiest sushi restaurant in b.r.)
8. "the girls next door"
9. "the golden girls"
10. "gilmore girls" (is there a theme here with the word "girls"?)
11. sheep
12. giraffes
13. hello kitty
14. target
15. emily dvorin
16. my sister's hair... i've been a little obsessed with how wonderful it is since i was a kid
17. taco salad without tortilla chips or cheese or sour cream
18. salmon
19. strawberry jam
20. hoodies
21. opaque black tights
22. ballet pink
23. tap dancing
24. dancing in general
25. apartmenttherapy.com
26. dlisted.com
27. 80's music
28. ladybugs
29. mary tyler moore
30. johnny depp... because who can resist?
31. chris cornell... he makes me quiver
32. 1980's cartoons
33. wicked, the musical
34. harry potter- the books more than the movies (but they're good, too)
35. hugs
36. jewelry
37. marshmallows
38. when kids make me laugh... specifically the ones i taught and love dearly
39. seeing someone i love succeed
40. losing weight... it's an issue, i know
41. sparkles
42. deep, dark, luxurious purple
43. genuine christians
44. spa massages
45. running
46. walking
47. yoga
48. zumba!!! it's not a workout... it's a party!
49. fisher price toys (the little people and the record player are my most favorite!)
50. sleeping

okay, that's enough for today. my brain is still mushy... i should probably practice number 50!

procrastinating is the same no matter the hour...

i wake up early every morning to run. i wake up, drink some coffee, and head downstairs to run like a hamster on the treadmills i like to pretend belong to me. but sometimes, i sort of forget why i'm awake. like this morning. according to my routine, i should be downstairs stretching... but i'm just sittin' here, tip-tip-typing on my darling coco (she's my beloved mac)...

i get anxious right before i enter the gym. i worry that there will be no treadmills free. then i'd have to resort to dreaded weights or the evil elliptical (it's not like the nice normal friendly ones you all know...). and that would upset my routine.

i've managed to curb most of my ocd tendencies... but not this one. when i have to switch up my workout routine, i get upset. i know it's unreasonable, but it's how i feel.

so... now it's tomorrow... and i realize i forgot to post this, so here it is. but it counts for friday!

fidget

i fidget when i'm nervous or worried or uncomfortable or anxious or excited. i twitch when i'm stressed. right now i'm doing both. i am worried about things mentioned only in passing; i'm stressed about all that i am and all that i am not.

jolts
spastic energy
streaking through my arms
all the way down to my toes-
lightening
in my veins
racing for the best seat
on a bus speeding to nowhere.

...deep breath... and sigh... 10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...

there's an elephant sleeping on my chest

implosion. that's what i'm afraid of. one day, i will get so angry that my insides will rupture and everything caged by my ribs and spine will just crumble to my toes in a shock of wild flames. unlike the phoenix, i will never rise again.

searing pain
ripping my heart into tiny pieces
no unconditional love could ever piece this back together.

endless and unrelenting
it scratches the surface of all things pristine
leaving scars and marks to last a lifetime.

smoke and fumes
flooding me with regret
damage done because i will always remember.

Words

Secrets,
Caged deep inside-
Clawing for freedom,
Yearning for release-
Unable to speak,
My words muffled;
Seeping out only
To the chosen few.