Friday, August 30, 2013

"You know it starts here, outside waiting in the cold
Kiss me once in the snow, I swear it never gets old
But I will promise you I can make it warmer next year
You know I came here when I needed your soft voice
I needed to hear something that sounded like an answer
Now I stay here, and everyday I get one

It's nothing I'll forget when the moon gets tired
You are stuck to me everyday
Believe in what I am because it's all I have today
And tomorrow who knows where we'll be
From here I can hardly see a thing 
But I will follow anyone who brings me to you
For now, forever, for on and on and on"

Monday, August 26, 2013

When I was young I had the simple naivety of not knowing that I was a  bad writer. I knew some parts were bad, and that all of it could use improvement. But now I am so very aware. Everything has weight, every word has too much value. And so writing has become a burden, no longer a freedom.

Friday, August 16, 2013


I expected it to be different. They tell you not to have expectations, but is that really realistic? Most expectations I didn't even know I had. I guess the biggest thing is that I expected everyone to understand that he and I belong to each other. But they don't.
And I still have to fight. I still have to ask him to fight. And he does not feel my pain, because I do belong to him, and there is no question about that. But he still belongs to other people, which leaves me desperately alone. Alone in a place where I don't know anyone. Alone in a place where I don't fit. Alone in a place where he does not belong to me.

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Giant Mechanical Man

Dear Jenna Fischer, Rich Ragsdale, and Lee Kirk,
Why would you make me love this song, and then have no way for me to have it? Please fix this problem immediately and I promise to watch all your movies, forever.
Teri Sue

I've got a problem

Rich Ragsdale: performer, writer
Lee Kirk: writer, performer 

Tuesday, June 4, 2013


Why do I cling to things that were never any good? It's like the day after partying effect where everything from the night before, even the bad parts, seems wonderful has invaded my entire life. Nostalgia. I am not sad, I am not lonely, I am not fearing the future, but somehow I long for things of the past. This has always been a problem for me. I want what I used to have, even though I didn't want it when I had it. I want the end of last summer, phone conversations every morning and every night. I want the year before that, sneaking in the night to meet by the lake just for a minute. I want the year before that, pillow forts and dogs. Or the year before that: double dates and a dumb truck, or the one before that: late nights at the stadium, believing in faeries, a group of home. Or maybe the year before that, skipping pep rallies and always being warm. But that is the year that leads me back around to now. Because here I am, with him. Always warm, just slightly on the side of rebellion, hard working, and comfortable. Maybe my whole life I've been trying to get back to a part of home, that I now have found again. We end and then we seem to start again.
Reincarnation of my years, over and over.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013


Hold on
My sweet
To the fire

The fire that dances
And flickers
In and out
Of our lives

Keep sight
My dear
Of the stars

The stars that shine
And sparkle
Above and in
Our darkness

Don't forget
My love
The sunlight

The sunlight that burns
And ignites
Deep and through
Our doubts

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

How I Met Your Mother

"All that is 45 days away, but I'm here now. I guess because I want those extra 45 days with you. I want each one of them. And if I can't have them I'll take the 45 seconds before your boyfriend shows up and punches me in the face. Because I love you, I'm always going to love you, to the end of my days and beyond. You'll see."

I know exactly how he feels.