Tuesday, July 30, 2013


I don’t realize it until probably the fourth time I wipe off and reapply the same sheer lip gloss; I’m nervous. Nervousness is just one of many emotions I am not adept at managing, as I am generally not prone to it. But here it is, uninvited and rude, ricocheting around my stomach and filling my mouth with copper tasting saliva.

I take off my gloss and reapply. Again. I fuss with my hair, which is determined not to cooperate in being pulled up off my exposed neck and shoulders. I pick at my face, completely certain I am getting a pimple and maybe my eye makeup is too KISS and not enough be kissed and is that a stray hair in my eyebrow? and should I wear a bra or go without ? and is this perfume too much? and what the fuck is wrong with me?

Friday, July 12, 2013

Matthew 25:40

I love my little brother more than anything. I've loved him since the first day he got here and I didn't understand why I couldn't hold him even though his tiny self was more than half the size of my tiny self. I loved him even when I accidentally let him fall head first off the toilet and get stuck between it and the wall, his tiny feet kicking in the air. For the way he didn't even cry out or yelp, just waited patiently for me to lift him up. I think he knew I wouldn't leave him that way, even then.

I've loved him since he only wanted to eat the applesauce already on his face and not from the cup and since he snuck into bed with me in the middle of the night for no reason at all. Since hours of video game play and marathons of Rock-a-Doodle. I've loved this kid, unfailingly, unendingly, since he drew all over my beloved Dr. Seuss books, since teaching him how to shoot a basketball, since watching him blossom from a quiet child who didn't say much to a kid who blathered on and on about anything. I've loved him through good and bad and the one fight we've had since we've been brother and sister and through calmly coaching him through his nervousness at driving, even when I was sure we were gonna die. This kid, MY kid, has been awesome since he got here. I adore him so much it hurts.

I think if you asked 5 year old me, she'd tell you I couldn't wait for him to enter this world and loved him even before he got here.

Thursday, July 4, 2013


I keep pretending I don't know why I can't sleep.

I know.
I've known for awhile.

I've just found it easier to pretend it’s work (sometimes it is) or family affairs (sometimes it's that too) or just general dismay at the stark contrast between my life as I want it and as I live it (many times it’s that as well.)

But if I were the type of person fond of math, adept at winding equations and multiple variables, I believe I'd find the root of much of my sleeplessness is you.

I am a liar. Not to the people I love; I care for them too much to try to sustain them on falsehoods. But I lie to myself. I apparently hold far less self regard. I tell myself things that deep down in the recesses of my heart I know aren’t true because sometimes the need to be able to survive Right Now, is more pressing than the need for truth. It's a survival technique like any other. The problem with lying is that it's essentially like running a marathon on a Red Bull; in the long run, it will never sustain you.

So here's the truth.