The Good Earth

The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck is a novel worth picking up and investing in. At first I was a little turned off by the book, I mean it was on Oprah’s Book of the Month thing and I normally don’t pick up any reading associated with Oprah. I have to admit though, that with this one, she was dead on. The book follows the life of Wang Lung, a Chinese man living when the last emperor reigned. The book opens the day Wang Lung is to go into the Great House of Hwang and ask for a slave so he can marry and continue his name. Thus comes my favorite character in the entire book, O-Lan. O-Lan describe as ugly, wide of mouth and large feet (her mother had never properly bound them) quickly captured my heart. She hardly ever speaks in the book, and is a selfless, devoted wife to Wang Lung who never really sees her for all her worth until the end of the book when its too late. The book follows Wang Lung’s life through the large changes he and his family occurred during this century. It has a great emphasis on the ‘land’ and how important it becomes to Wang Lung, which is essentially the main character in the book. From the start I was captivated by the way Buck’s writing seemed to grace across the page. Her words, are simple but read as though she had taken great care in piecing them together. It’s captivating and engrossing and after reading this wonderful piece of Literature can see easily why Pearl S. Buck won the Pulitzer Prize for this novel. So give your mind a break from all the mind candy you may have been reading lately and pick up this book. I don’t think its likely to disappoint.

I'm allergic to my wedding ring

Yes, its true, this gold band with diamonds set in to it is messing with my ring finger on my left hand. From time to time it gets really bad, really itchy, really swollen, really red and it just drives me nuts. So why don't I just take the ring off and be done with it? Get over my allergic reaction to gold and let my finger heal up? Why don't I just take my husband up on that offer to get me another ring, one that doesn't have gold in it and wont cause such a fuss? It's simple really, this is the ring that he an I picked out a few days before we tied the knot. This is the ring he gave me and wanted me to have. It's nothing flashy, I didn't want flashy, its not big and screaming 'I'm married look at me' because I'm not out to make a statement. What it is is simply and wonderful perfect. Yeah I know another ring could hold the same meaning but call me silly, I want this one. Beside I can lather up in Cortaid and have some relief for a day or two right? ;)

I love you Henry and my ring.

So I was at another site that I frequent off and on when I came across a link in a users profile that lead me to a really really great website. It's called Bookcrossing and here's a brief description of what its about:

bookcrossingn. the practice of leaving a book in a public place to be picked up and read by others, who then do likewise.

The "3 Rs" of BookCrossing...Read a good book (you already know how to do that) Register it here http://www.bookcrossing.com/home (along with your journal comments), get a unique BCID (BookCrossing ID number), and label the book Release it for someone else to read (give it to a friend, leave it on a park bench, donate it to charity, "forget" it in a coffee shop, etc.), and get notified by email each time someone comes here and records journal entries for that book. And if you make Release Notes on the book, others can Go Hunting for it and try to find it! I think this sounds like a really great idea and if anything it should be fun to see where your books end up.

I've got an idiot

*author's note* this was written when I was staff and poetry editor at Lit.Org

I've got an idiot (well that's what I like to call him) that from time to time decides to email me a totally flaming email. And I can't help but smile everytime I see it in my inbox. The message never changes so I already now what to expect and I grin in anticipation. I mean is that messed up or what. You'd think that I would see it and cringe, or sigh in frustration but instead I laugh and pass it around to some friends of mine so they can email me back, laughing and pointing at how off balance this person is.It's really an ego boost too...the thought that someone is actually consumed enough to think of emailing me and actually doing it on a regular bases, going so far out of his way to get someone else to email me that I don't know just to make sure I get the email. WOW.....I've really touched this persons life (sniff, sniff) The fact that idiot thinks about me on almost a day to day bases is quite flattering. I must have made some impression....so when I see that email from time to time that lets me know that he's wrapped up in his own little world and can't be a better person than to let thoughts of me run his life....I can't help but smile. I've never made such an impact on someone before....now if I could only use my power for good!!! muahhhhhahahah....;)

Starved Veins

a/n this is a mesostich or Mesostic. The capitalized middle letters form a word. I hope they line up right when validated. :)

it’s Controlling
always Inhaling.
Giving way to
Addiction.
is there Really an harm
to smokE just a few
and feel The rush
of nicoTine pulsing through
starvEd veinS?

*author's note* I was a smoker....and I loved it....and part of me still misses it!

One More Drink

I found you at the bottom of a glass.
When the last of the amber liquid was gone you were there waiting,
with all your smiles and touches, your soft voice, and charming flirts.
For just a moment we hang suspended.
In between crystal, and cognac tinted air,
We danced on the wet, concave floor.
No words, just smiles and then your laughter,
it echoes off the opaque walls and skims across my skin.
Then noise erupts and love begins to fade
I hold on a second longer, not willing to lose you yet.
Blue eyes sparkle, a smile playing on your lips,
you speak, whispered words I can’t catch, then dissolve into existence.
One more drink, another ocher dream of grace forever lost before I move on.

*author's note* I'm not a drinker, it's just an image okay? Good grief!!

a/n: Not really a web log but something of a journal type entry.

June 20th, 2002
Taylor Books,
Charleston, West Virginia

I’m in Charleston, at our bookstore, desperately trying to feel close to you. I wanted to order your coffee. Ethiopia, like you drank last time we were here. It wasn’t listed, so I settled for a cappuccino. The table we sat at, in the wicker chairs is taken by some lady whose hurriedly pounding at the keys on her laptop. I wanted to sit where you had, near the fish tank, secluded in the corner away from everyone. I choose the table next to it; it’s not the same, but its close. From where I sit, I can look out the windows and see the ice cream shop we parked by.

It’s been one month, two days and three hours since you went away.

It’s exactly as I remembered it, only busier. I’m surrounded by people, where last time I was consumed with only you and your presence. I half expect you to walk in, or maybe walk by the windows. But you’re not going to. Do you even think of me? What is it you think about when my name races across your mind? Or does it anymore.

It took two hours to get here. And when I opened the door, my hand on the golden latch, I felt scared and weak. My heart started pounding and I got an ache in my gut as if my world had just tilted. I don’t want to admit it but honestly part of me wishes, hopes, expects you to be inside smiling, your blue eyes sparkling, soft brown hair falling carelessly over your forehead.

It feels good here, where no one knows me and my memories and demons can run free, raging. How often did you come here? What made you bring me here? I should have asked. I should have asked a lot of things. Now I’ll never have the answers, maybe I don’t deserve them. Is that why I’m here? Did I honestly believe the answers would come to me once I sat in the green wicker chair at the table with the yellow, green and red tablecloth? No, I came here to bid you one last farewell. I’m going to try to put you out of my mind and not dwell on this anymore. I think it’s a near impossibility but I’ll try.

So here’s my goodbye to you. You taught me perseverance and confidence. Did you know that? I felt like a better person when next to you. I loved you, was deeply, madly in love with you. Part of me still is. I was completely devoted to only you and what we could have had. No one else knows.

They play horrible music here but the atmosphere and old English look of the place is charming. I want some place like this closer to home.

It’s four o’clock, I should leave, but I’m not ready to. I’ll suffocate if I go back now, without this finished. Am I only giving you time to show up?

Back to my goodbye. You interrupted my plans to bleed into nothingness only to yank away the bandage you gave me. Why did you do that? What happened to us that drove a wedge between and levered you away from all we had. I know you don’t like anything permanent, but was I really pushing for that?

This place is good for me. I feel better, healed somehow. Like I’m breaking through the skin of water I was drowning under for too long now.

You handled our break up wrong, but maybe that’s why it’s called a break up. If it were good and right, it never would have happened. I tried and I don’t feel like you did, not as much as you could have.

I’ve let you go, found my peace. I’m not living in your precious memories anymore. I’m making my own memories, setting my own pace.

I’m leaving, finding my way home though I’m not sure where it is. I’ll find home and I’ll be happy.

The cappuccino’s gone. The crowd has dwindled down to a handful of people. I’d better head out. Who knows, maybe I’ll come back one day and thank the place that helped me break free of you and your memories, to find my solace and peace again. Hopefully.

It was...

It was countless hours on the phone.
It was the night, nervous, scared we met.
It was that cocky little grin you gave as hello.
It was the feel of your fingers playing in the back of my hair.
It was tangled sheets on hotel beds.
It was the smell of bubblicious.
It was the thought of dirt bikes.
It was that voice I cannot forget.
It was how you called me ‘baby’.
It was our first kiss that left me breathless.
It was the ease in how you calmed me.
It was how you took my disappointments and made them better.
It was how I felt when you were near.
It was your blue eyes, shimmering, dancing.
It was the feel of your hair between my fingers.
It was the day we made love on top of a rock face.
It was the feel of your heartbeat pounding under my ear.
It was your skin against mine.
It was knowing I had someone else in the world that cared.
It was your fingers intertwined with mine.
It was feeling happy and free at the mention of your name.
It was finding something inside of me somewhere inside of you.
It was nights spent alone yet knowing one day we’d be together.
It was all the stupid things we said.
It was the million hours that we were.
It was hard.
It was lonely.
It was torture being so far away.
It was knowing, deep down, that it wouldn’t last.
It was fearing the end was closer than I thought.
It was having my greatest fear come true.
It was heart breaking.
It was mind numbing and crushing.
It was love.