It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.

— Rose Kennedy

There is no refuge from memory and remorse in this world. The spirits of our foolish deeds haunt us, with or without repentance.

— Gilbert Parker

To you,
I promise not to be around, this anniversary — or any one after it. Though, I may pay a visit to finish what I should have done.
Love,
Me.

And to you:
Thank you.
♥

For the rest of you — some literature:
To Be A Woman Part TwoIs this what it means to be a woman? To have the smell of your body coming from me, to have your bite marks on my skin, to feel brutalised by you? I wouldn’t say that I love you, but you give me something that I thought I would never find. A feeling of being sexy, being attractive without being drunk. Even when you’re holding my arm over the stove, you’re turned on by me. Or turned on by whatever it is you do to me. When you put your hands around my throat last night in bed and choked me, was that an affirmation of my femininity? Does that fear I have, does that – more than biology – does that make me a woman? Forget the way my body is formed:  my gender is in the thoughts in my head, the dry feeling of disgust in my mouth when you slide your hands over me, the revulsion at your assumption that you own me.  To be a woman is to be constantly terrified.
The memories of last night make me want to vomit. One of your hands over my mouth, the othe 2039482I don’t care anymore that I’m asleep more hours than I can be bothered to be awake.
In the middle of the night when I wake with nightmares I’ll ask you
“Will you please come home? I need you.” And you’ll respond “I’m sorry I can’t.”
At night when you call, you’ll whisper to me that you’re so afraid I’ll off myself before you come home.
And I bet it’s awful to know that you caused this.
I’d give anything to forget that you swore you loved me and then you threw it all away, and stupid stupid me tried to salvage it, I can’t even salvage myself. I hate you for doing this to me.
I’m the kind of broken that means
three year old temper tantrums on the bathroom floor
because I think that maybe someone will bring you home when
they can’t stand to listen to me anymore.
And not sleeping for three days because the nightmares won’t stop.
And drinking half a bottle of vodka because it brings back me Delicacy of TouchLike a distant torrent of rain,
dripping, sipping, sinking through the soil,
an urge so silent and concrete.
Body-integration, sensation,
forgetful contemplation of texture and fingertips.
So it strikes again. When Two Poets MeetIt's a dangerous thing when two poets meet.
Words like fire on tongues so sweet.
Poetry rains down in emotions still flowing.
Hearts on sleeves for the worlds full knowing.
Words like spells holding hearts so fast.
Enraptured by thoughts that forever do last.
Burning and churning for what we cannot see.
Seeking to find what we cannot be.
Loathing and loving all that we've been given.
Unabashed and morose at the thought of this sin.
Words like a sweet poison aching to find
a heart like your own on the other side.
No more truth can be known, we are helpless to cede.
It's a dangerous thing when two poets meet... to deteriorate means to worsenwith a dry throat
I finger fuck you
my bone splinters
and I beg you to keep it
not even the heroin aficionados
know an addiction like this
they don't know the fucking half of it
what they do know is
that this street is my bed
and where I spit
is where I lay my finished head
they know our names
and they know about
the time I molested myself in public
they know about the
prescription drug love affair
and the night I amused myself
by throwing empty beer bottles
from a second story window
but they will never know
how good it feels to
decompose inside of you
they overdosed
the night I choked you
and fell asleep in my car
I'm sure they would have
heard about that too Pull Back the Curtain
Open up the blinds -
Let beams of light slip lovingly
Through the threadbare
Thin red curtains.
Wait for another moment -
Hang banners of gold majestically
On the now faded
Peeling blue walls.
Don't let it in too fast -
While your eyes are still opening
Expose the old and weary
World to the light too soon.
Watch as the sun climbs -
Sing while the light carefully
Loses the faltering
Weak feet of the old year.
Pull back the curtain -
Let light infest you and finally
Show the wonderful
New spectrum of the new year. RaskolOur son and his wife sleep in separate rooms. They are painted the same colour and bear identical scars but are separated by a hall so long that by the time I walk from one end to the other, I am too tired to compare and know what is different.
That is the convenience of an oversized house, I think, that we did not have in our small one-room apartment—they never have to see each other’s faces. You remember the nights when we were given no choice but to lie next to each other, against the hard corner, when we were seething in each other’s anger. How wonderful it might have been to stare at a blank wall, letting the heat of our hands seep into the plaster until we forgot each other, and how to be angry.
I never told you the fear I had inside my heart every time we tore apart and came back together again, that we would forget how closely we fit, or that in the short intervals when we were apart, a piece of the puzzle would come loose against us like a grain of sand, until w:thumb62835722::thumb135725637:

Mature Content

I had an interview at Sam Goody / F.Y.E. on Monday and got the job. Anica (my new boss) said she'd call me on Friday for my schedule details.
Tuesday was the funeral for my uncle Terry.
Mom finally got the house, she closed and everything on Wednesday, she's now living in Austin.
Thursday, we celebrated.
Friday, we moved her bed set and armoire out of the house, along with her other things she wanted to take to the new one. Lots of furniture.


The devMEET in Austin. This was the first one I was actually able to make it to and this was their third annual meet.

It rocked. Hard.

In all honesty, everyone's done a recap of the meet and I don't think I can do much better than that. I had fun. After what's seemed like a few hard months right after one another, things are really looking up. I have a few of my favorite thumbs here, along with the creepy ones and a couple in particular I dread but find absolutely hilarious ... for some odd reason.



Quoting Harry (Idea stolen from iLL-Lozenge)
"mild mannered, low-key summaro PROPOSED MARRIAGE to KagomeResurrected
in front of a completely stunned crowd.

sorry, but world tour, LA, hq...none of those meets can top this!"

Seriously, you can't top that. Also: It made it to the Today page, StJoan's journal has more, click here for details.




Anyway, we left around three am after everything (Mozart's, Hula hut, Spider House, Katy's place). randomaxes even waited until I was in my house before he took DJStrife home. (That really means a lot to me. Not everyone does it. ) I was in the house at four thirty am. I never stay out late, but that day freakin' rocked hard.

Click here for more Austin devMEET photos.


Shamitriss and her mom, Denise, came over and we cleaned the house up a bit, taking the trash out and painting some. Our living room is almost done! Sort of. It's a lot of work and it's ridiculously hot during the day. I hadn't heard from Anica on Friday and had spent most all of Saturday with randomaxes, DJStrife, iLL-Lozenge and the whole of Texasdevmeet. So Sunday evening-ish, I called in for my schedule. Lucky I did, I was scheduled for the morning shift for both Monday and Wednesday.



_{Disclaimer: I'm not a photographer.}
The first photo is the living room before we started painting. The one right underneath it is after. It's a chocolaty color, now with cream trim/ceiling. The tables and mantle are black. Not much changed to the fire place. Unfortunately, that was the only room we remembered to do before and after pictures of (and it's still not entirely complete, you can see some of the mess with the tape and the sofa cushions are being cleaned. Third photo down is the bathroom. (: Black and white, simple. Last photo is my mom's room, what will be Shamitriss and the baby's room soon enough. The colors here before were Taco Cabana reminiscent. Kind of minty greenish and the usual building's pink color for the ceiling.

First day of work! Really, yay. I mean, seriously. I've been wanting to work for ages. Every job I look into either is already filled or I just don't have the experience for it. It was excellent, Daniel (another boss-man) showed me around the store and I picked up most of the register stuff pretty quickly. Quite literally after he asked me if I spoke any Spanish, I had an older Mexican man ask me to look through the store's database to see if we had an artist. Unfortunately, we didn't. Right after he left, I had a young woman come up in a flurry of Spanish. Now, my Spanish isn't great, in fact, I don't even think it's good at all. But I do understand it and I can read/write some of it. It's the speaking thing I need to get over and practice more. Anyway, she was interested in buying an iPod classic, 120gb. I was shadowing Daniel and doing most of the translating for him. She noticed the iPod touch 32gb we had there and she asked about it. I explained what it was and the difference in the cost between the classic and the touch, she made a quick call to her Mom and we directed her from the Macy's (in the mall) to our store's location. When she got to our store, she went from wanting only the classic to both the classic and the touch, Daniel saw the opportunity and told me to let them know they'd get 25% off with their iPod accessories, so in my terrible Spanish, i filled them in. They bought the car charger, carrying case for the touch and docking station/radio/alarm. My first real sale came out to roughly $900. (It was seriously exciting.) I tried talking them into the PS3 and PSP, but my vocabulary wasn't broad enough. I'm totally working on fixing that ASAP.

Kind of what they got, sans case since I couldn't find a picture on the intrawebs.
I didn't feel the ache of tired feet until 3pm, and my shift was over at 4. This could be good for a little while, I'm hoping I still love it three weeks from now.

I have today off so, updating the journal and soaking my feet. (:

I don't usually write this much in a journal, but seriously, come on. Worth it, no? aranoid;