Drifting

Occasionally it is nice to have a plan. To know where you are going. What will come to you. At the moment, I think I've cut all the ropes...Nothing is tying me down anymore. And I never thought that I would be able to say that. But I can. I know what I want, ultimately. I just don't have any of the specifics anymore. And it's strange, as I worked so hard to hold on to them, but they seem to have all left me. I think I've accepted it now though. Weightless is different.

Horticulture and the Beast

In which the Beast will be portrayed by myself

And the horticulture speaks for itself.

Now, I am fully aware that this is an entirely separate childhood tale, but if by some spot of fortune and a well placed kiss my little plant were to turn into prince charming...I probably wouldn't mind. Though I'm not sure if I would feel like his destined love or previous respit care-giver...These things take time though, I suppose?

So. As you have probably gathered from the title and following photos, my mother is introducing me to the lovely art of horticulture. I've always enjoyed plants, and have had several in the past, but I have decided to try my hand at it on a higher level. Hopefully it goes better than my attempt with an orchid did. :P In my defense, I did live in a basement apartment with very little sunlight...But enough excuses. Basically, I have now repented of my sins and am going to try to bring joy and nutrients to the green things of this world! (No more orchids for a while though.)

Meet Massimo (I'm one of those people who names everything. It's fine,) my new and already beloved Dischidia Pectinoides, or, if you prefer, the Kangaroo Pocket/Ant Plant.

Dischidia Pectinoides is a perennial vine that is (according to my loving yet strict mentor, Google) native to the Philippines. It's supposed to develop little reddish blooms that will come and go throughout the year (oh hooray! I do so love a good bloom.) I was told that the plant is able to take some of the nutrients it needs from the large escargot shell it's planted in. (By the way, that is one HUUUUGE shell...Wonder how much nosh one could make out of a snail that size.........Hmm...Gross?)

On a more interesting note, when grown in the wild the pod that develops (giving it the nickname Kangaroo Pocket) actually provides a nest for ants (hence the title Ant Plant.) The plant and the colony then develop a symbiotic relationship, with the pod providing a safe home and the ants supplying the carbon dioxide. Neat-o. That being said, it won't draw out all of your household and neighborhood ants and take them in. Otherwise, Massimo and my landlord might just encounter a conflict of interest, despite his meaning well. 

I have a feeling that if he ever dies or even wilts a bit under my care I will feel like a failed parent. Tears will be shed, as I am apparently turning into my mother and I cry over EVERYTHING. (And that isn't an exaggeration...Maybe it's an exaggeration. But I NEVER used to cry over anything. What have I become? {I already answered that; my mother. I have become my mother. Joy.}) I'm sure you'll hear if it if he ever passes...though with luck, he shan't. And I now have to go pee...meaning this post is finished...finito....the end....Adieu. 

(For Now)

Betty Grable & John Payne "Still Crazy for You"

Separation

Control is a lie. We rarely have any over anything other than ourselves. And even that is something that isn't necessarily true. I don't know why and I don't know how and I don't know what exactly contributes to this, but I think that if you shift your focus, broaden or narrow, you learn to see. Once you can see things properly you are able to take them in your hands and, lovingly, turn them into something that speaks for you. I can't control my life. Not fully. I can't control who says and leaves, nor can I control what will happen to me. How the decisions of others will affect me and the world in which I live. But I will do my best to continue to live and love. We shouldn't base happiness off of something or someone, because people and things can be taken from us. Rather, we should be happy for no reason. That way, when it may seem that there is no reason, we still know how to smile.

Fallen From Grace

It takes a while. And maybe it's not fully time. But I'm here and I'm moving and it's good. The emotions come out like currents of air. Curling through the air as my spine arches, rolling off of the extension of fingertips and tipping to the ground to swirl around shifting, moving, tracing feet that aren't lost but wander just the same. Tolkien would be proud....

I can't compose my thoughts. You're everywhere and nowhere and while I'm full up inside with you the way our lives met, I feel every crevice, every gap, every space you left behind. Breathing is empty. Never full of the satisfactory rise and syncopated fall of double lungs. I'm breathing. And beating. Alive, but not fully. Not whole. Not really.

But wholly myself. With nothing detracting, and nothing distracting from every second that drops to the past during which I am only, solely, and absolutely just....This. One glittering, wet ink word on a page in a book too small to write a world but too big to hold me when I can't keep the corners of my lips wide up. And again and again and you're fine and I'll live and the days adding up we give weight to avoid having wasted with one other than The One. And the weighted words we exchanged as promises you now turn to trinkets you say have expired. For you, long ago. Though you fulfilled them up to now. So tell me. If you can. Please. How does this happen? Because to me, in all honesty, it feel like one day you woke up and decided to give up. And there's something that you're keeping from me. Something that you won't tell. And I can feel it. You know I can. And I know I can. Yet you're fine. You've moved on and you're ready to focus on you. Truth is, you did all along. You took and you took and you took and nothing was ever enough. Until you took the one thing you knew you shouldn't have. You taught me to breathe just to suffocate me. To watch as the air left my lungs and the light left my eyes as your hands pulled me close, wrung me dry. Is it easier to know that you've killed someone who you stopped loving before they stopped breathing? Step over the body and walk away, shrug out of the weight of a love you don't love and live farther than life can survive. You're alive.

Day Number {Whichever Number We're On}

Today...I got to see two great friends, including my best friend, introduced someone to Roo Panes, whom I adore, accidentally caused an accident by waving at the driver (no one was hurt, no cars were broken...still felt terrible) aced a mid-term, dressed up fancy because...no good reason, critiqued a dance, ate fish sticks, made tea because my throat hurt, drove to Manti with Ash to get something notarized, couldn't afford the pretty sparkly gold nail polish at Walmart (Yes, girly, girly, girly. I am aware) bid farewell to everyone as they left for the night, sat by myself listening to my music/shouting it to myself, dressed myself in...quite the get-up, photoboothed with me, snap-chatted the crap out of my friends (they'll live) cleaned my room, and I am now sitting on my bed, throat kills, kind of numb emotionally, but I'm watching Grimm...I shall need to find something new. Once I'm all caught up on this season...I won't know what to do with myself...Keeping me occupied has been a success so far...It's just exhausting.

Wishing For Rain As I Stand In the Desert

I never understood what it was like to really and truly feel there was somewhere I belonged and was completely safe until I met you...And now, in light of recent events, I wish with all my heart that I could relive the those moments. Because I don't know if I will ever be naive enough to genuinely return to that. 

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It was like being a blind child all over again. It didn't matter if I was ten or ten thousand feet up, I knew you would catch me...

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So when you didn't...I couldn't accept it. It wasn't real.

Sometimes it still isn't.

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Not fully.

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And I don't know which is worse

the fact that I broke...

or the fact that you tell me I'll be fine.

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I will be fine.

I just wish you still had the desire to get me there.

And be there.

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I can hold myself up.

I know that.

It's just nice to have someone to stand by.

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And I know I'll find someone.

Someone who can do no wrong.

Someone incredible.

Like you were.

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I will never be quite so unsuspecting again though.

I seem to have developed a fear of heights.

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And I haven't even fully hit the ground yet.