I'm just a 31 year old chick from Rhode Island, married to a Canadian, tattooed, childfree, and a World of Warcraft addict. I fancy myself a photographer, or an artist, but who am I kidding - I count pills and sell drugs to junkies.
I write about everything. If you don't like it, if it's too personal, if you don't want to hear it, if it offends you, if it's about you, I don't care.
I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control, and at times hard to handle, but if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.
I hate weather like this. It’s been about a week where glimpses of the sun are few and far between; gray clouds and rain overwhelming the local 7-day weather forecasts. The doom and gloom seem to seep into my skin and infect my overall attitude, leaving me eager to do nothing more than just sit under an afghan and watch tv.
Eddie and I went out yesterday, taking a trip downtown to check out the Providence Arcade. This didn’t go very well at all since we couldn’t find a place to park close to the building and we didn’t want to be stuck walking in the rain, so we ended up going to Thayer Street to visit the shops down there. We had a fantastic pizza for lunch and checked out the little stores, where I got to squee over a huge selection of Sanrio items and drool over boxes of beads. We left Thayer and drove back to Warwick to go to Newbury Comics, Target, and FYE. We picked up a used copy of Lost: Season 1, then came back home. I headed for the bathroom with my upset tummy while Eddie went to the store to pick up some food for dinner. I was sitting at my desk, checking email, when he came home and announced, “I got something special for you.”
I turned around and he was holding out a beautiful bouquet of yellow and white roses, bought for no other reason than he thought that I needed them because I seemed so sad all day. They’re currently sitting in a vase atop the tv, where Chaucer can’t reach them and munch on the leaves (again). We had a bunch of tacos for dinner and watched Lost before making our way to the bedroom to watch some SNL. Jonah Hill sucked, so we didn’t watch much and just went to sleep.
I slept late this morning, lounging in the bed under the warmth of the comforter and curled up with a stuffed animal. Eddie came home at lunchtime and we went to McDonald’s, then left to return to work. I’m downloading some music in an attempt to recreate my former music collection that was on my external drive prior to last summer’s move. We’ll be going to my mother’s house for dinner and a movie tonight. At this very moment the sun is making an effort to burn through the clouds, so maybe it won’t be too gloomy for the rest of the day,
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Listening to: Melissa Ferrick - Drive
Today I go for phase 2 of my tattoo, getting a trio of roses between the swallows and banners to bring everything together as one piece. This is going to be very painful. Eddie will be getting some pictures, since he’s not getting anything done this time around. I’ll even let him hold my hand.
After the tattooing’s done, Eddie and I are going to a geeky WoW baby shower, which should be less painful considering that there’s not going to be any sort of silly shower games, except maybe loading up WoW and showing off our toons. I need to wrap up some of the assorted gifts I picked up for the mom-to-be.
Nanny isn’t doing so hot. While I won’t get into details, allow me to just say that whoever said that there’s dignity in dying was full of shit and probably never had to watch a loved one toddle around the house wearing a hospital gown and diaper and carrying their catheter bag in a pink gift bag strapped to their walker.
I retract my previous statement about wanting purple roses.
I want red ones now.
They’re in the vase, dead.
Their scent lingers like your faded kiss,
And the sight of them kills me.
But I can’t throw them out.
They mean too much to me now.
There’s too much to remember about us,
And they’re the last tangible thing from you
Besides the ring from Christmas.
There they sit, dead, withered on the top shelf
Because they won’t fit on the lower ones.
The ring is still on my finger, the purple stone
Still shines. The ring itself is a size too big and is
Turned around, facing my palm half the time
And the world the rest.
Still, I can’t get rid of either.
I’ll lay in bed and look at the roses and think of the night
That you gave them to me;
Of the happier times we had under the stars and streetlights,
And I like the sparkle of the ring.
Memories don’t help heal the soul,
Don’t heal the heart, can’t close off the past.
They fade with time, fortunately,
And all that I’ll have to remind me is the scent of the roses.
What do I do with the roses now?
