Tag Archives: love

because it’s Sunday…

18 Aug

A little theme music, shall we?

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Ttjh_kK62lY

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=S2Cti12XBw4

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=FHsip5xOenQ

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Crazy in Love.

9 Aug

oak linedWhat is it about oak-lined streets that make me so dizzy and crazy in love?

Why do I have visions of wearing an antebellum dress and strolling down one of these long, gorgeous paths with a beau named Shelby or Logan or…Beau?

During my trip to Savannah, I gazed down streets like these and nearly squealed from the romance and mystery of it all.

Sigh. Happy Friday, ya’ll.

Day Thirty.

29 Apr

Poem

what is a poem but a plan?

i, your brownie,
will be in like and in like and
turn the pages of time and
fly to the heights of the sky
with you.

we don’t need a home in
Emerald City, love,
for it will be right here, in our
simple home with our unencumbered
rooms.

for 1 + 1 equals me and you,
and we will always be the answer—
dancing and tumbling because
we want to, and saying it all the while
aloud, no mind reading.

it will always be autumn for us:
living in the centers of both our worlds,
hardly relegated to corners or the
uncertainty of infatuation,
you, my little bee.

no paper doll here, but the real thing:
a real, beating heart,
real gratitude for you,
the real me for real you,
no archetypes necessary.

i will accept the company
of you, and i will always choose you,
because you’re the prettiest apple
of the eye a woman could ask for
and not defer.

from Emerald City to Damascus to Emmaus,
every step and place brimming with clarity—
our L-O-V-E,
electric in its glee and maturity,
unshackled and free.

you are the ink in my pen,
and I’ll rhyme for you, just say when,
the moon in your sky,
ready to shout and reply
that our love will never burn.

But here it is:
whether rain or shine,
whether push or pull,
you will always be the “you”
in verse, fiction, or haiku.

yes, what is a poem but a plan?

The Big Fat Bloggy Stew. Shall we?

5 Jul

Long time, huh? I wanted to acknowledge that in my last post, but decided to just stick with my thoughts on that particular topic. But yeah, it’s been forever and ever and a zillion days. Why, you wonder?

  • I don’t know. I suppose my current, diminished desire to write creatively (more on that later) affects my desire to visit the Marvel, as well. And it’s summer, it’s super hot, and I’m super blah. And hot. Really, really, hot.
  • Uh, the above captures it all in a nutshell. Only two bullets, I know. I’m obviously losing it.

So what’s been going on with me?

On Life.

Let’s see. I took a significant step in fulfilling a life goal related to my spirituality and learning a foreign language. Pretty, pretty awesome. So far, 1) all my French teachers and professors were right. I should have taken my French conversation far more seriously than I did in the past, instead of causing most of them to sigh and throw their hands up in frustration over my stubborn unwillingness to dig deeper and speak (I imagine they all got together one evening over croissants and wine to complain about me). As a result, all these years later, today, it’s a bit difficult for me to utter a complete sentence in French without throwing quite a bit English into it. But I’m giving it time. And I’m constantly learning. So it’s all good. By the way, don’t ask me why I was so stubborn back then when it came to speaking. I thrived when it came to French vocabulary, art, history, culture…but conversation? The pits. I don’t know. My attempt at school-related rebellion. Anyway… 2) I’ve met new, wonderful friends in the process. A bunch of us even traveled together. And we survived without any tales of woe or attempted murder. Good times, indeed.

What else? The fam is ok; my beloved little Bro had some health issues a few months ago (and I suppose a large part of me not posting had a lot with being worried about him and that worry taking over everything), but things have significantly improved, which is fanstastic.

On Work.

Oh, work. When things begin to run their course, you begin to look elsewhere. Actively. That is all. For now…

…Although I would like to add that–well–let’s just say that posts similar to this and this will be coming soon. Somebody help me…

On Love Shmove.

Lest you get all excited for yours truly, all is quiet on the Love Shmove front. What I do want to say, briefly, is the following (welcome back, bullets):

  • Every woman deserves to be properly wooed. I mean wooed, like courted and treated well and flowered and candied and listened to and the like.

    Yes, indeed.

    While it’s unrealistic to want what you’ve seen in any Hollywood rendering of “love”, it’s not unrealistic to want proper wooing. And I certainly don’t think the wooing should stop once you marry, either. If anything, it should grow. Spoken by someone who intends to be wooed.

  • Men are not boys. Boys are not men. There is a marked difference.
  • I will never have an open mind about brussel sprouts. (Seriously, never.) But I’m starting to understand that having an open mind when it comes to Love Shmove can be a beautiful thing. You just never know what the possibilities are and from where they will come.

On Writing.

I have my creative highs, where I write like crazy and I’m thoroughly in love with the process. I have my creative lows, where tumbleweeds roll across the vast, super dusty stretches of my creative mind. Then I have what I’m currently feeling: creative laziness weirdness. The plots are there. The characters, the middle, the ending, the everything–all there. But I cannot summon the desire to write. Where is this laziness weirdness coming from?

No, no, let’s be honest, shall we? It is laziness. I have absolutely no desire to write. And I don’t want to. I just don’t.

So what are we going to do about it? Will telling myself to write something, even if it’s one sentence, be a delusion of grandeur, destined to never come to pass because I will undoubtedly break my own promise? Perhaps. But in the research I’ve done on blocks and laziness and everything writery under the sun, the key is always: write something, anything, every day. So I will, starting next week. (We are in the middle of the week, after all.) So who will keep tabs on yours truly? Who will follow up to see if I actually follow through and write something, anything, every single day starting next week? We’ll just have to go all honor systemy, won’t we? We’ll see.

Let’s end here for now. Onwards and upwards…

Welcome back, officially, Kitten Heel Marvel.

See you tomorrow?

that’s how much I feel.

14 Sep

Harper Lee made me fall in love with a book.

Alice Hoffman makes me want to sit outside and describe the world exactly the way it is: gorgeous and strange and utterly amazing.

Billy Collins writes poems that lift off the page and make a beeline toward the center of my heart.

Judy Blume helped me to figure out what I was feeling.

Lois Lowry turned me into a library stalker.

Alice Walker blew my mind.

Casey Flinn wrote stories and poems in college that wouldn’t leave me.

Jane Austen turned me into an eternal follower.

O. Henry thrilled me.

Flannery O’Connor sweetly shocked me.

Kathryn Stockett propelled me back to the days of sleeping with a book by my side.

Anne Sexton reminded me that poetry can sound like everyday life.

Jennifer Atkinson made me feel blissful to be a writer.

Sylvia Plath. Oh, Sylvia Plath.

Amy Bloom convinced me that a short story writer is still a novelist.

Jhumpa Lahiri knocked me off my feet.

Zadie Smith made me angry.

David Schickler hypnotized me.

Aesop and the Grimm Brothers started it.

My mother engendered the love.

BJ & FE SCOTT

...LIVING THE BEST LIFE EVER!

Sincerely, Taj

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