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.

to a ‘you’

The way your hair was not short, but not long
makes me weak.

The way your smile complimented your teeth
made me swoon.

The way you remembered that you hurt me
made me forgive.

The way we fell into old ways
made me hope
for future chapters in our story.

The way you made my day was all I needed;
to move on.

The Beast

To me, you are nothing. Nothing but an afterthought; a grease stained t-shirt left in the garage. Thrown away, I refused to clean you.

To her, I was Maleficent, but I was never jealous.
But, we both know that was smoke and mirrors.
And you are actually some other beastly character lost between worlds.

To me, back then, you were an oil painting, one of kind. You were made by a man who was lost in his dreams. He dotted your canvas with the clearest ocean, on the most beautiful day. He made you a sailboat. Inspired by the wind.

You were breakfast on a Sunday morning, easy and sweet.

But now. He’d paint you a stately mansion with bear skin rugs. A man in the finest clothes and a lady hanging on his arm. Oceans, and pastures dotting the distance.
Because you wanted your dream.

Yes, back then, I never saw your soars and boils. You wore a sweater made of charm. You hung roses by your teeth. I never noticed they were wilting.


You are someone’s friend,
someone’s lover.
for once-
that someone is not me.