Storyboard

I had a hard moment today. I was sorting through my old things, purging what wasn't needed in my new chapter. I really thought that I had left it behind, that I'd catalogued you with my decisions made for all the best reasons. So I had thought, looking from my side of things. I realized though, shaking hand holding tight to that piece of paper, that perhaps...

I said that I couldn't talk about it. I don't know that I have ever said that before and meant it, but I did. I could barely see the white page as I kept trying to fold it. Trying to block out the words and all of that desperation.

I had gotten a glimpse of that other side. A side not nearly as tidy as I had once convinced myself that it was. I couldn't bear what it really was, whether or not my hands were clean of any instigation. The ball fell in my court and there I let it lie. I remember the reasons why and I still feel that they were justified. Just and logical and easy.

It hit me then. Then I realized that perhaps I was still...wrong.

I can see it now. I can see the whole sad tale laid out, face up. All of the roles, all of the letters, all of the ways the characters were changed by love. I don't know that any of us have turned out alright, and certainly not un-damaged. The final conclusion is at best uncertain, but now that I have seen my part in this story, I realize that yours cannot end this way.

I was wrong.

Closer

I don't often ask for things anymore. Call me a cynic, but I believe that some things are going to happen the way that they are going to happen, no matter how you feel about them. All you can do is to choose to celebrate, or to choose to fix them. I suppose that sometimes, I ask to feel acceptance. I don't imagine that can hurt.

I'm not anywhere close to perfection, and I hope not to sound like I think myself a martyr. I have made my choices, both good and bad, and I do my best to reconcile, but not surrender to the consequences. I keep trying to make up for anything that I've done that contributed to my undoing. I've been alright. I've even been happy. I try to pause and remind myself regularly to say thank you. Now, I'm daring to ask for just a little bit more.

I'm not a lucky person, but I am a hopeful one. So I am sitting here, just wanting to put in a word to the universe. God. Not a beg, not a shout, but a whisper.

Please.

Honey, Honey

So, a few people have expressed concern about me with the arrival of each new Maybe, Matilda post. Apparently I seem a little sad, maybe even miserable. I suppose, given what I know is the usual tone of my writing, that it doesn't really surprise me. However, I assure you that this couldn't be further from the truth! I just seem to tend to be overcome with the urge to write when I'm upset, and this blog was the result. Anyway, to keep everyone from sending me sympathy cards, I decided to write a blog that shows my more usual cheerful side. My new blog doesn't contain so much of my writing, but will be about music that I love, wild moments with my children, and pins that I am obsessing over. I've really been enjoying having an outlet for these kinds of things, and the challenge of html and trying to find something actually interesting to write about...

Anyway, here it is! Honey, Honey.

P.S. Not like ABBA. I'm more of a title of a Feist song, lyrics to Coldplay's "God Put a Smile on Your Face", what I call my babies, I just liked the sound of it kind of girl.

Heroes of the Sidewalk

Well, it's kind of sad that I haven't written anything since I told you about my last A4A post, but here I am to talk about my latest one. Inspired by Two Hour's Traffic's track "Heroes of the Sidewalk", I wrote another piece for Art for Art. This time, it's a poem. I also have decided that my next post,  on Maybe, Matilda or otherwise, is going to be something a bit more....positive. I always tend to write when I'm upset or nostalgic, and I end up giving people the impression that I'm constantly depressed. I find it kind of funny, because it's the furthest thing from the truth, but I should probably at least try to write something in the happy range.
Anyway, check out my poem and the amazing blog that is Art 4 Art! They are always looking for contributors, and I really encourage you to consider it. I truly think that A4A is a unique and worthy project, and it relies on contributions from all sorts of creative types to be able to continue on.

My (nameless) poem:

http://art-four-art.blogspot.com/2012/01/two-hours-traffic-heroes-of-sidewalk.html

You Always Come To Mind

Have you checked out Art 4 Art yet? It's a fantastic blog brimming with all sorts of art inspired by Canadian music! Here's the link: http://art-four-art.blogspot.com/

I was asked to write something for A4A, and got really caught up in a whirlwind of ideas. It was a bit of a challenge, or a step outside my comfort zone, because I don't usually write in the style that I chose. Once I got started, I really enjoyed writing this piece and would do it again. Here's my short story, inspired by Samantha Savage Smith's song "You Always Come To Mind": http://art-four-art.blogspot.com/2011/12/samantha-savage-smith-you-always-come.html

Look At You, You're Growing Old So Young

Dishpan hands and an aching back.
She never could have imagined this.
All she had ever wanted,
Hers.
One more year and the light through the cracks in the windows
might shine a little more.
Two more years might mean less of the tension hardening his jaw,
and more of the laugh that reminds her of falling in love.
It seems selfish to say that things are anything but wonderful.
To wish for anything better.
She wonders if it’s her.
She wonders if all the things she is giving will ever be enough.
She wonders when the time will come.
Hers.
One more year is another year of their innocence lost.
The days of firsts will be spread so much thinner.
Two more years – will she remember where she’s been?
Will it be everything she wanted?
She needs to know she’ll miss this.

I Won't Be Left Dancing Alone To Songs Of The Past

How much you’ve changed.
Were you always this heavy?
Were you always this light?
You used to fit better.
Perhaps it was all in my mind.
Do I still want you?
Did I ever?
Does it matter?
Should you have stayed lost in the snow?
Maybe all you need is some polish.