Friday, October 30, 2009
It is impossible to describe in words, actually that's not true. I could imagine a dictionary where every word that meant Scattergood was circled and some were added too. Think of what you would circle and what I would circle, think of where our words would be the same and where they would differ. It could be described in words.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
I found myself wondering why you left your ugly plaid coat at my house. You know that I don't want it. And the stupid art pamphlet about your writing. I know that you wanted me to come to your reading, thats why you left the coat and thats why you left the leaflet in the pocket.
Hounds tooth, and I can't stop looking at it. I have to return it to you. But I need you to understand that I don't want your stuff in my house. I could call you, I could climb the mountain of stairs to your gritty, grimy, gross apartment and give you back the coat. All of the twelve eyes of your stoned roommates would be screeching their judgement upon me.
The last time we saw each other, the time you left the coat, your hair looked like it was time for a dye. I think that it's time for us to stop playing this game and get on with our lives. Lets make something of ourselves. How about it? I'll just go to your house. I'll ring your stupid bell and then who knows what? Every time that I've going before I've ended up staying too long, or just long enough.
I drifted on the empty 147 bus, picked up an old paper and read yesterdays news that was still new to me. I slipped off of the bus and sauntered to the far edge of town where the buses don't travel. Small joys I kept thinking. I've been trying to take time to appreciate the things that are little but bring us unrecognized happiness. Dogs barking (if you like dogs), birds singing (if the sound hasn't always driven you insane), other things like that.
Monday, October 19, 2009
I was always the little sister asking why you won't play.
Just for today I get to be you:
Is this what you were thinking?
from playing in the dirt
marker smudged face
make believe is still your favorite game
I can no longer stand the sound of "lets pretend..."
you've asked me thousand times can we play make believe
Lets pretend that we're on the moon
no lets not
how about... "we're at the fair. ".... no.
Okay what do you think about cow boys.
I don't want to play make believe. I don't want to pretend anything.
Please. No. I'm to old to pretend things.
we used to play that all the time.
why don't you play anymore?
Stop talking, i'm trying to concentrate
pretty please with butter and cheese
Why did you have to grow up?
Hey, I've got an idea, lets pretend that you are my age.
I don't want to. I've got home work to do, and I'm too old for this.
I'm busy and I do grown up things, like go shopping and go to parties with my friends.
This is what you said
and this is what I think.
you were imagining being somewhere else.
Somewhere without me, with your "friends"
they are the same thing
You were pretending the whole time,
why didn't you let me play your game?
All I wanted to do was play make believe...
Saturday, October 17, 2009
These are a craft project that were inspired by another blog.
The embroidery shows through to the other side, so I'm
thinking that I'll slap a piece of felt on the other side. Maybe
I will make the felt of a different color. Green, or other
Friday, October 16, 2009
Three rings and it's my dad's voice
Still getting used to technology
I called to see how you guys were
Ended up telling you how I am
When I was little and we'd go sledding
You'd get so cold
You'd never feel warm
I really meant to call and see how you guys are doing
What about the cows
and the stray dog
are we keeping her around
Do you want to talk to your mother?
Want, need, either way
it's a yes
I remember my scabbed up knees
mom would ask me what happened
I don't know
I don't know whats wrong mom
I've been upset lately
Is everything okay?
Yeah I probably just scraped it on the fence
when I was helping dad with the cows
Are you okay
I don't know
I just can't get warm
like how it used to happen
I don't know how I got to feel this way
I love you
I love you too
I've got to go
Three rings and it's dad
Thirty minutes, dripping nose and puffy eyes: Bye mom
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Earlier today I was thinking about Halloween. First of all, it's really a waste of our time. The list of problems with Halloween are endless. I was thinking about bobbing for apples: Fall is the time that the weather is changing and people are getting sick. Why? Why, would I stick my mouth into a bucket of water and swish my saliva around with other peoples? Literally drinking your spit. I'm not really interested in that. Also where I come from the month of October is officially winter. There is no way to look cool with your costume over your snow suit. Children in my neck of the woods seem to adapt every princess, and evil witch costume to the obese version. So I don't like Halloween. Yes, candy is good. But contrary to my earlier beliefs, it's not free candy. It's not free because you have to invest all of this, time, wealth, and creative imagination into making a great costume. Even with this over whelming evidence that Halloween sucks, I seem to be unable to stop thinking about what I want to dress up as. I have two thoughts: Both are border line politically incorrect. 1. Michelle Obama 2. (this is a partner costume) The twin towers.*
*This idea was directly inspired by my sister, which is another way of saying, "politically incorrect".
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
When I was home this weekend I did a simple sewing project. I made a dress. A children's dress. The pattern was easy to follow. The seams were easy to sew, the whole process was understated. I added green piping to the dress. It was made of cotton sporting a light fluffy pattern of twined-flowers. This process seemed dreamy and satisfying. But then I tried to give the dress to my sweet niece. She's four years old and adorable. When I gave her the dress, she thanked me. But I could tell that she was never going to wear it. I was slightly offended, I had worked on this piece with her in mind, and she didn't even like it. She told me that she might wear it as a dress up, or put it away with her fancy clothes, but that she liked clothes that clung to your body. First I laughed at what has come of our society. And then I thought about how I'm going to have to modify every one of my designs so that they can cling.
Monday, October 12, 2009
My home is in the middle of no where. Really, it's the kind of place that you cannot find on the map. I was born and raised there. Born at home with a midwife. I was born in the morning as the sun was raising. I was born with my eyes closed and I began to nurse immediately. I had a childhood that was fraught with imaginative play and homeschooling. There was a time in my life when I hated the monotony of living away from civilization. There were times when the last thing that I wanted to do was pick peppers and plant seeds. But now when I return home I realize the full extent of how incredible my home is. A list of things that I love:
1. Food from the land
5. Hanging laundry in the winter
6. Wood heat
7. The seven Spicer kids
8. My parents
9. The garden
10. Jersey Cows
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Each day you use the same grease covered tea kettle and one day you realize that it is disgusting. So you try and change it. If you've been listening, we've learned a lot about change from our president this year. We've learned that change comes slowly, it doesn't happen over night. So in the mean time we hope and thats what gets us through. Jessie Jackson told us to "keep hope alive" and thats really all that we can do. Wait with hope in our hearts for the change our mind wants. But I think that our president is wrong, change can come over night. You go to sleep and it's bleak and grey, in the morning you wake to the white blanket of snow. Who says bigger is better, small change causes as much as big changes. Like your newly shinning tea kettle.
Monday, October 5, 2009
I've never Blogged before, but I have done quite a bit of journaling in my time. So I figure that blogging and journaling are along the same lines. One key difference is that the world can read my blog. The purpose of this blog is only for me. I'm not going to kid myself and think that my blog will change other peoples lives. But when I'm older, more mature, different, experienced, more educated, I will learn so much about who I was at 16. It could give me great insight, or maybe I'll just see how far I've come (or how far I have regressed.) Or my poor children may stumble upon this and wish that the internet was never created.