That Time You liked My Facebook Post

There was a time when things were different.
You did more than like my post…
like that one time the other day.
You used to be different.

You used to wait for me to finish work,
we’d talk about our day.
You’d tell me about all the girls you met
and I pretended it was okay.

We’d meet for drinks
at your convenience and
it would always be late.
I never minded to your face.

I’d smile and nod at your sudden insights.
Stroking your genius because I liked you enough to listen
and no one else did.
I doubt you noticed.

We’d talk for hours laying perfect plans
of course, we never actually followed them.
but we’d dream into our beers
that, naturally, I paid for-

I put you on your very own pedestal!
I hung a banner above you!
I sang your praise and
ordered fireworks in your honor!

But you never noticed them.
They were not in your vision.
Your mirror was only big enough for you.
And it’s my fault I never noticed.

It’s not the same.

It’s not the same. It’s not the same as when Meg Ryan fell in love with some man she met on the Empire State building by simply touching his hands. It’s not the same as being casual acquaintances to hating someone to loving someone so much you run through New York City on New Years eve to be with them. It’s not the same as writing beautiful emails to someone and falling in love with them by tripping over their words. None of it is the same. It’s about meeting someone online and finding out that they are not horrible so I guess I’ll go on a date. It’s about hoping and wishing that the text “okay” means I’m in; but not in an ironic I’m going to not actually show that I’m into you kind of way. It’s all so different. So stressful. So many gray areas. I can’t even begin to understand how we got here. I long for beautiful letters and romantic dinners. I think mystery is amazing. I think the human connection has lost it’s meaning. I think that at this rate we will stomp out all the fun out of love by becoming so logical, so obsessed with immediate satisfaction that we forget why we are searching. Why it’s so important to find the person that is beautiful, perfect and our perfect match. The person that is home. The person that completes us. The person who would laugh when you fell but also put their arm around you to make sure you are okay. We all want them. Why are we so lazily searching? Why are so complacent on the thing that makes us human. The most important answer. I don’t mean decision. Who you love is not a decision. It’s an answer. It’s choosing to say yes to happiness. I hope I have the courage to say yes someday.

-to the one who makes me smile on my worst of days and makes me laugh every single day. You are my happiness. I’d say yes to you.

Of course

Love is always.


You can’t even see me wave
You’ve never seen me.

I always see you.
Now I see her.
I see only a shadow of us.



What is it that makes us wanted? This is a question I have always pondered. I just want to be wanted by someone in the same way I want them. Actually if you replaced want with love it would be the same. I want the whole package. Why, in my almost 30 years of existence, is this so hard to find. It breaks my heart.

I love then I lose.
I open to closed doors.
I see land
but my ship stalls.

I’m a bird stuck
on the branch with thorns
Afraid to fly,
or let anyone land.


All these good things at one time is very overwhelming. New job. New friends. New life. I didn’t move but I did take a very big risk. It feels great! I need to do that more! Take more risks. Live with no regrets. Be free. That’s my mantra going into my 30th birthday. I’m going to actively try to finish my book. I envision a trilogy. I’m pretty excited about it. I’m going to stop focusing on my love life, my “friends” and start focusing on my work. Both my new job and my writing. So in light of my new happiness…so weird to be in that state of mind. I’d leave you with a poem but I’ve got nothing ready for the internet. So here’s gibberish.

To A:

To think I believed you when you said.
you’re awesome.
you’re cute as always.
you’re hot.
you’re sweet.
I’m those things, that’s true.
But you don’t get to call me those anymore.
you’re done…she can have you.

Curly, Swirly Braveheart Hair

I find myself not really overwhelmed but just insanely busy with work lately. So much so that I can’t remember the last time I laughed uncontrollably, had a great night out or even just a nice day. I don’t really count holidays because I usually have to work on those days or every day leading up to it and after it and I spend my time counting the hours until I have to go back to work. It’s kind of sad actually now that I think about it.

I never got a new TV or fixed the one that broke. I know, mostly out of laziness, but also because WHY? I can watch all my shows on the internet and I spend far less time wasting my life in front of the TV. I find myself listening to music and *gasp* actually reading a book. My friend actually just wrote a book. It’s so amazing! I’m so jealous! I’m requesting a signed copy…you hear me Matt! I’ve also been writing a lot more. I haven’t been sharing it’s more than a poem and less than a novel. I’m really excited about it. Will it afford me the ability to immediately retire? Probably not, but a girl’s got to dream.

I’m not really sure the point of this entry, I thought I had something but apparently I had nothing. That’s very disappointing. Sometimes writing is just words and other times it’s thoughts, but tonight it’s just symbols on a page.

Anyways, here’s a poem…

Curly Q swoons over girls
he can’t woo.
Dancing to silly songs
with Braveheart hair.
He can’t say no
or yes.
He’s just another
curly, swirly sign–
you need to go home.

I drank a bottle of wine…on accident…this happened.

I can’t remember your smell.

The way you looked over when I
said something stupid.
Your favorite coffee.
The smell of your car.
The way you smiled.
Those baby blues,
so deep, so focused.

I can’t remember your touch.

Your hair,
your walk,
your drink of choice.
The way you laughed
I can still hear you.

I can’t remember
the way I looked at you.

That night,
we talked until the sun came up.
You told me I was everything.
You couldn’t live without me.
You cried,
I couldn’t live with you.

I lied back then.
I can’t remember why.
I can barely remember us.

I can’t forget you.

Holy Followers Batman! Thanks! You guys made my month.

I have no idea what to say. I feel like I spend all day saying all the words that don’t matter. Then I come home and have used up my word quota for the day. So I spend my night listlessly scrolling through internet junk and newspaper articles, to get inspired. Nothing. Apparently tonight isn’t the night. So here’s a poem I wrote a few months ago.

A Bird

It stood against it’s nature
under the tall tree.
Pecking at worms, surely,
but still searching.
His eye looks to the sky-
Why won’t he fly away?

My TV Broke…I wrote a poem…and some other stuff.

So, it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten lost in my thoughts. So here goes some rambling.

I used to really love music. And not like oh cool EDM song. I mean I used to get lost in a good melody and lyrics that wrapped me up in my thoughts. Spotify is amazing. I know, I’m late to the game. But it is AMAZING! I feel like a teenager getting impressed by TRL. Except, you know, better tunes. Although, weren’t the 90’s great? Anyways, my TV broke on Tuesday. I spent the last two days re-watching Gilmore girls on Netflix. On my computer. And I watched it totally undistracted. I skipped around some boring episodes. I’m on season 7. The worst season. But tonight, I got bored. I turned on the tunes. I’ve really missed GOOD music. I don’t have satellite radio so, it’s the radio or my iTunes library because I really don’t want to use my data for my daily commute.

I got the urge to read a book tonight. I mean I read all the time. But not from a real book. And not totally undistracted. Not in awhile, probably not since college. Actually, probably before the internet. Then I thought, no, no, I need to write.

I write poetry nobody reads. I mean I mostly do it for me. And I have been “writing” a book for years. I would like to say it’s somewhere near done but it’s not. I want it to be, but for some reason putting pen to paper is tough for me. What am I so worried about? I’m not THAT bad. I’m pretty bad at spelling and my grammar usage is questionable. I mean I really suck at when I use commas and semicolons. I’m pretty sure if this piece were on BUZZFEED the grammar nazis everywhere would crucify me. That’s why they make editors right? Anyways, I’m rambling. The point is I love to write and I’ve been pretty absent from doing what I love. Like, it’s been at least 4 years since I’ve really dedicated an entire night to my craft. That was so sad to type.

What have I been doing? Watching WAY to much TV. Why? Probably, because it’s easy. I also have been working…A LOT! If I’m not slinging lattes…I’m coaching or watching copious amount of TV. I have so many dreams. So many things to do. Why am I hiding behind lattes and Television?

My cat and live in my parents basement. Read through my blog…the reason is in there somewhere. It’s not so bad. I mean who doesn’t love free housing and home cooked meals. But ugh, I’m undesirable. I am 29, living in my parents basement. At least I’m gainfully employed. But now, that I’ve climbed out of my doldrums I’ve got no excuse right?

Sometimes I wish I could live on a island, sell hats, and write poetry next to the ocean. That’s where I belong. Next to the ocean. To quote my favorite band of 10th grade, Everclear, “we could live beside the ocean, leave the world behind. Swim out past the breakers and watch the world die.” See, probably the most inappropriate use of commas ever.

Here’s a poem to leave you with:

It’s silly.
This moment is silly.
You were never supposed to be here.
I am.
But not you.

It’s sad,
because I thought you were
you’re not supposed to be here.

I wish you were but-
the 6 drinks I had
and the 15 beers you had;
meant nothing.

Don’t worry, I got the tab.

You’ll pay me back in
unanswered texts and
other girls numbers-
and I won’t get mad;
when you’re 3 hours late.

Don’t worry-
I got it.
We’re even.

I don’t even care that
I’m ruined.
Trust no one.
Thanks.You’re swell.

Just like that night-
Florida moon,
I made a mistake.
You never forgave me.
But hey, don’t worry.
I forgive you all the time.

Remember when we drove
all night.
We got milkshakes.
I smiled.
You wanted to ‘be adventurous.’
I fell for it-
for you.

Don’t worry, I know
It meant nothing.
Don’t worry, I got it.
This one’s on me.

Don’t worry, I know
just friends.
Don’t worry, I know
the time you slurred
‘I love you.’
6 drinks…15 beers…

I know, don’t worry.
I got this one.
It’s on me.