If my life were a movie…

I’ve spent the day organizing through old papers- stories and poems from high school… my oh my. I’ve been listening to music that brings me back through my memories, from all my life. I’ve also been snuggling with my baby next to a sun-filled window and feeling content. Sifting through all that history is… making me feel fuzzy.

We finished our kitchen floor. I also feel good about the dining room. Viola! Progress is being made. The past few days in particular have left me feeling very good about where I am… in all respects. Especially after reading all that old poetry. I mean, it’s good in its own way, but I remember being conflicted and insecure and jaded. I’ll be feeling all "Why can’t I go back and feel that again!?" and then I’ll remember how it all ended and that I don’t really want to relive it all. It wasn’t bad, I was also young and fresh and adventurous and sweet and full of life. It was a good time. But it’s like remembering how good smoking was. I loved smoking. Towards the end it was awful though. My lungs hurt and I hated being chained to it. I’m healthy now. I’m happy. I’m new again in all the right ways.

That’s all really. Oh, interesting thing… Betty Anne Waters was just being filmed, oh, 5 blocks from my house. Now, movie stars are just regular old people and I don’t go nuts over them or read those magazines or anything, but it still gives me a cool feeling when I think that Hilary Swank and others were walking distance from my house. I just… I watched her in the Next Karate Kid when I was young and I thought she was SO beautiful and I just wanted to be her- all hardcore and pretty. And then she went on to do some of the best movies I’ve seen, like Boys Don’t Cry and Iron Jawed Angels. PS I Love You was one of the best romantic movies I’ve ever seen. Anyway, yeah, I kinda love that she’s here.

Speaking of movies- tonight Jeff and I got hot & sour soup and thai noodles and snuck them into the theater to see Slum Dog Millionaire. It was an impulse date, because we are getting a good amount from our taxes and we figure we deserve a few dates that actually cost a little money. Our dates normally consist of making something good for dinner, a walk and a Netflix movie, or a game of Scrabble. Anyway, the movie was quality. I’m still feeling the afterglow.

Kitchen before and after:
These "tiles" were in such bad shape you could kick them up without even trying. We were thinking about replacing it all, but in the end felt like we couldn’t find a used replacement floor fast enough for our liking. So we just ripped the whole thing up, picked a stain color that matched the existing water stains left on the wood, and did it up ourselves. I actually really like it. It’s interesting.
 

Dining room:
I’m feeling good about this room. Aside from the crappy photography (I can’t WAIT until I find my other camera), it makes me happy.

Some recent Vera pictures:

Sleeping.

Also, I realized that I haven’t taken anything other than a bath since we moved in. I really missed baths. Vera has a total blast in the bathtub. I love letting her play until she’s all wrinkled and the bath water is cool. She gets mad when I take her out, but quickly forgives me when I snuggle her in a warm towel. Baths are great!

Those scratches are from little John’s killer nails. Watch out! They are just bound to injure each other when they are together. They are so cute lately though. They play and hug and climb all over each other. It’s great.

Here’s one of my old silly poems that I found, and then a more embarrassing teenagery one… oh the good ol’ days.

Anti-Poem

I’m having problems.
I’m having trouble with this whole "poem" idea.
It’s just not working for me.
I’ve made a concious decision
to NOT write a poem.
This is NOT a poem.
This is a 12:24
I’m too damn tired to write a poem
non-poem
And on that note
I’d just like to say
That if my life were a movie
I’d live in New York
in a high-rise apartment.

Untitled

There must be a reason why
I stay in the same three places
and I always drink my coffee black
Something about the bitter
acquired taste without a mask
of sugar and cream
makes me feel like my mornings
are that much more mine.

And there must be a reason why
I can’t smell my house.
The couches and the carpets and
the same six people eating and singing
and forgetting what they were looking for.

It must have a smell.

So I can read into these things
on my better days
and on others I just
let myself blend in
with my coffee and my couches
and what I was looking for.

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