starvingheadrush

[starvingheadrush]

Oof the mems

I first heard of you when I was 12. I heard you were down the hall in another classroom. You were classified as the new kid. My friend was explaining how you were tall and half black. It peaked my interest so I said "I like him already" as I thought I'm going to get him. Which I did, temporarily until I got paranoid my dad would find out I had a boyfriend. So the after-recess hugs were put on hold. I saw you day after day, regretting my dicision. Valentine's Day neared and I missed you. I had to apologize for leaving you via candygram. When you somehow recieved it despite the butchered speeling of your first name, you didn't seem to care. Why would you. You were a big fish in the medium sized pond. You were seasoned compared to all the others. As we grew apart, the end of the year came. I was moving schools so that I could live with my dad full-time. I had moved on from you by then. Distant memory until sometime in highschool you messaged me on Facebook, asking to hangout. Given that you had moved to Dartmouth, my parents decided it wouldn't be a good idea. So it never happened.                                    * * * University came. And the summer going into my fourth year was a single one. With me and boyfriend at the time just breaking up. I decided it was time for me to go downtown Halifax with my sister for nearly the first time. Although fun, I felt lonely and bored by the end of the night. Also hungry. So I told her to stop by MacDonalds on the way home. I vaguely remember it taking a long time in the drive through. Ridiculously long. So long I felt really bad that she had agreed to go in the first place. This gave one of my friends enough time however, to message me and ask to hang. He was a long time friend that I used to play basketball with every day after school. But also happened to be someone I dated for a couple of days in forth grade. Irrelevant. I knew he was hanging out with another guy I used to hangout with at school and oddly enough went to his prom with him. So as I read the text asking me to come hangout, I immediately asked my sister if she could drop me off there. In my head at that time I thought: I know my boyfriend from 5th grade lived there back in grade 12, so maybe, maybe he still lives there now. I was buzzed into the apartment. As I walked through the halls of the familiar smell of heavily trekked carpet in the first months of summer, the nerves were wallowing up. Having been slightly drunk though, they didn't affect me much. I knocked, entered, took off my shoes and with my McDonalds bag in hand walking in to see the two of them sitting down. I said my ‘hello's’ and sat on the couch. We started talking about things I can't remember. I offered them fries which they turned down and I said I couldn't eat them. I placed them on the table. Minutes passed and I heard footsteps. Seconds later someone walked around the corner. Wearing nothing but sweatpants, exposing his muscular arms and tattooed chest, it was him. Tall and just, there. In front of my eyes. 10 feet away from my paralyzed body. I harboured up a "Hey, haven't seen you in a while."

..To be continued. Maybe.

[starvingheadrush]

This hurt

When you're looking over your shoulder at it, it's almost more painful than being in it. You feel it all at once instead of piece by piece. It's worse when in the end, it didn't happen the way you wanted. When it's unsettling. Looking back at the beginning of us, it is an unhealthy mixture of pain and lust. Jealousy and want. Irresponsibility and a lack of confidence but you made it. You made the whole time worth while. You were there and caring when I felt like dyin. When I questioned if living was worth it or not. Traveling, and playing with your hair. Months of sleepovers and wasted time. I am glad now, wasting time was with you although I wish I didn't waste so much. The contrast of how I was before to what I am now makes me happy. Knowing I have built myself to where I am now. I no longer have endless nights of throwing up, crying and sitting down in my dark closet or heaving in the shower. Not sleeping because instead I preferred to stay up hurting myself and listening to sad music. Shit I miss those times. I miss you coming over for hours when we first met. Sitting on my beige university chair watching me fall asleep. Getting excited every time we decided to do something new and in season. Walking down Rennies river or around long pond that one brisk morning. I am so sorry. I am sorry I was weak and fragile. I was hard to keep. Hard to please. And when you had those few moments of weakness I said you were flawed. You were a half. Logical, clean, calm, particular. So I hope if we ever see each other again, that you see you helped me. In some ways, I will always think of you. Some things you said have been burned in my head for better or worse. I know even though you've tried forget, you will still remember the wintery nights looking out my res window. The snow was the only light that lit my room. Enough to see your silhouette. I want to see you thriving. I want to thrive too. I wish we were thriving together just for a bit. I was so full of flaws I just want you to know I'm better. I'm a little less full of flaws and I am more tidy, patient, happy and kind. We were going to ask each other the same night. Ask each other to be together. Nights were fun after that. Especially leaving 146 with the pizza already ordered. Leaving early and letting everyone else go downtown without us while we set up napkins and splitting the pizza box in half. Watching friends waiting for you to lay your hand during the theme song. Or toasting subway cookies after our subs were finished.

[starvingheadrush]

The answer isn’t to be happy.

Why is it that when I think of life, the best version of it, it still feels like something is missing. When I imagine what I think my future favourite occupation could be, it just makes me wonder why and what's the point. What's the point of helping someone become the best version of themselves. To do what?

[starvingheadrush]

The floor is grippy

I was better yesterday than I was two days ago and that’s all anyone can ask for right? But what if you fall on your face and being better the next day requires very little? You will be stuck in a slowly progressing or even slowly diminishing cycle. Yesterday though, I wanted to give up again. I almost began to believe, just like I used to in the past, that I was not strong enough to say no. But I was. And thinking of a beautiful version of myself, dressing in a sweater that I love and continue to look better in, drinking tea reminded my it's more exciting and valuable to put time into feeling all these other things. Actually feeling life instead of being numb to every emotion except pain and regret. It is to be interested in every other thing in life and relish the feeling of sitting in comfy clothes smelling your favourite candle, or happily dressing in your favourite outfits and appreciating your God-given beauty.

[starvingheadrush]

Is this all there is?

I get you, my child and the man and the dress the house, the job and really great sex.

The watch, a raise, the wedding, and ring   Dinner parties and expensive gatherings.

This thing, and that thing, for which I search, Until Sunday brunches after church,

But always fleeting, is that fulfilled feeling Leaving nothing left but my chest beating.

No reason, no understanding, no point, just why Why am I living for a blink of an eye?

Give a watch, give a raise, throw a party, gift a dress Fix yourself and your life and clean up your mess.

Help her, help him, help it, help them,                                                                      Add more, do more, do as much as you can.

For an idle hand is a selfish hand And a wasted life is a life unplanned

[starvingheadrush]

Another sunny description

*Not affiliated with the previous “A sunny description” *

I am waking up to the sun beaming in through the window. So strong it lights up the room by passing through my flowing sheer curtains. I throw of my light, cooling duvet and slide my feet into my simple white slippers before putting on my robe and heading to the window. Widening the curtains the sun splashes on my face. Much like the sun back home but this one has its subtle differences. From the moment it peaks over the horizon, it instantly becomes deeply radiant. Penetrating every leaf, vine, blade of grass or piece of fruit that is lying latent in the open air all night awaiting its morning nourishment from the suns rays. The sun, so powerful, it summons all clouds to disappear from the sky, in order to be accompanied by an unobstructed vibrant blue sky. Appreciating its warmth, I step out on to the balcony that is slowly becoming engulfed in a rich green vine that has begun to produce enough figs to make one years worth of jam. Peaking down to my entry way I see that the flowers are in need of watering so I turn back inside feeling the shade in my room cool my face. Once downstairs, I turn on the kettle to prepare my coffee, then fill a glass and pitcher with water. Bringing both of the outside the front door, the plants and I share a drink of crisp, clean water. After having sipped my coffee while examining the property and tending to some of its needs, I get dressed in an airy wrap dress with strappy wedges. Putting my hair in a low bun, I search for my keys and purse then, by curtesy of my black coffee, eagerly and nearly skip to my light blue, 1958 Mercedes Cabriolet. I start the engine and head toward the road. I love this time of year because the journey down my driveway, albeit short, is full of lush foliage overarching the gravel road. So dense when looking up you can barely see the sky. Occasionally the sun flickers on you through the fluttering of a few leaves, directed by a light gust of wind coating them with warm, sweet air. The markets are busy at this hour, bustling with the morning crowd heading in with lists as long as a monthly Costco trip receipt, to prepare for large evening gatherings. Much like mine. I plan to concoct a delicious 3 course meal of charcuterie, stone oven pizza and fig tarts with walnuts and honey.

..To be continued. Probably.

[starvingheadrush]

A sunny description

There is a streak of warmth coming through the curtains. The sun splashing part of my face, telling me its already warm outside. The window is cracked open and the gentle breeze allows the curtains to swell with air and retreat back against the window. The smell of amber seeps in with the morning air forcing me to smile. I swing my feet off the bed to feet the Persian rug beneath them. It lays flat of the thin strips of old hardwood. Wearing a large t-shirt that, through the years has become a soft worn-blue, covers me until my mid thighs. I walk into my bathroom flooding with warm morning light to splash cold water on my face. Looking in the mirror to pat it dry, I inspect my hazel eyes and tanned skin. Yet again, I am thankful for the summer sun the penetrates my skin and revives me. Gold hoop earrings are my jewelry of choice today. I plan to work with my hands all day long, so I leave my rings sitting in the ceramic dish I made years ago solely for this purpose.

Heading to the stairs I step back through my bedroom, stopping to make my bed. Once down the stairs I begin my morning routine of drinking water, brewing coffee, praying and stretching. As I sip my coffee on the deck outside, I watch the birds, chipmunks, squirrels and rabbits going about their morning. After writing a bit on my laptop and jotting down my todo list, I get up to water my blooming and intricate vegetable and flower gardens. Presuming someone has already fed the chickens. From looking at my calendar I noticed I need to finish a pottery piece and go shopping for a house I am staging later this month. I also need to tend to the garden as I have many vegetables in need of picking. Sometimes I sell them so I update the inventory on my website. It is a full time job to ensure that all of my ventures run smoothly. I partake in woodworking, gardening, small event planning, photography, digital marketing, raising chickens, staging and writing. I combine it all in my social media accounts to keep everything in one place, and my calendar looks similar to that of a 16 year old girls bedroom. There is one day, Sunday, in which I do not work, with the exception of necessities such as cooking, feeding the chickens and watering the plants.

After coffee, my morning routine and a very short full body stretch/exercise, I head to my studio to begin working on the pottery piece for a client, and finish up a few other pieces to add to my inventory.  

..To be continued. Probably.

[starvingheadrush]

Just picturing

We laid down to sleep in satin sheets, our breath slowly syncing until we take off in our dreams. Even though we both went on two different 8-hour journeys, we wake up from the same sound and turn to face each other for the most captivating view of the day ahead. I smile, he smiles and I roll over to lay on him, transferring all of my weight onto his soft tattooed chest. I glanced over to our closet where my two outfits were hanging just above my carefully arranged shoes. I turned back just as he asked, "Are you excited?" to which I replied, "Only 9 hours and 58 minutes left." with a wink. I kissed him again and rolled off the edge of the bed to go brush my teeth. He followed, only to end up back in bed 2 minutes later. When we finally got up, we  showered and I walked down our elegant curving staircase to get some water and make the second best experience in the morning, other than waking up next to him, a cup of black coffee. I began drinking coffee one day when I came home from school in first grade. My mom would leave her half-filled cup on the table while she napped on the couch next to it. She had a tendency to make it rather sweet so one time I tried it. I've taken breaks here and there but I've also gone through phases that trump all the days without coffee. I attribute those times to university. I've gotten a handle on my consumption now though, usually 1-2 cups per day unless I want to feel multiple heart palpitations. I heard him walking down the stairs so I take out the milk and sugar. Turns out, some people actually enjoy ruining a cup of their perfect brew. I put our mugs next to the French press, on the stone table by the window overlooking the streets below. For most of my coffee drinking life, which happens to be most of my life anyway, I prefer to have unique or one-of-a-kind mugs. I, in many ways desire to be different, even though you could make a case for the more people try to be different, the more alike they become. We sat overlooking the flow traffic and the people hurrying along the sidewalk. He stared out the window and said, "Isn't it interesting how each person feels like the main character in their life, and everyone else around them is just a background role?" "Okay Dale Carnegie", I said with a smile. After we both finished our coffee, I went upstairs, hung up my silk robe and got dressed to workout in the room off the kitchen. I had mirrors installed along one wall, with bars and weights to workout with. Our peloton frequently collects dust in the summer because I prefer running outside for cardio. That day though, I was invested in Pilates with pushups and sit-ups. As I was finishing, he came in to start his workout just before I left. He frequently worked out at home now since we put money into our at-home gym. Before that, it would take nearly 2 hours out of our day to go to the busy one a few blocks away. We decided working out at home was much more convenient. Plus we got the added bonus of seeing each other improve whilst also being sweaty which proved to be much more...fun.

.. To be continued. Probably.

[starvingheadrush]

meal head

I’ve slept the least and lived the most some days second-rate but more than not, I was overdosed catching up on with what I was deprived If I said I was full before, I lied. Looking down at the vessels of blood in my arm they carry now, the key to disarm the alarm in my head that is warning called final page in the chapter last bite of cake on the plate the words were good and the meal was great How dare I write when I haven’t lived? But I’VE LIVED 100 YEARS OVER ALL, IN MY HEAD

[starvingheadrush]

Surprise, I’m starved

12:12 in the afternoon and I am still working on my first cup of coffee. It’s a slow process the way I sip. A couple weeks ago I began only pouring a few sips into the mug out of the French press at a time so the rest can stay hot and marinate some more. Clever, I know. That way, if I forget it’s there, the majority is still hot. Woke up late cause I went to bed late. Not the most responsible thing to do but give me a break. It’s Canada Day and it’s 8 o′clock somewhere. So technically I did wake up early. just not in my time zone. I’m hungry. The emptiness in my stomach is reminding me so. However, I’m not done this coffee and there is an order to these things if I want to squeeze out the proper energy and inspiration inside my head. I feel like food gets in the way. The more hungry=the more and bigger the head rush. Standing up quickly feeling like you’re floating. Can’t be the best thing for me but I know it isn’t the worst. So summer. I know it’s most peoples favorite season. At least in the northern hem. but to be honest, this unpopular opinion of mine is slowly exciting me to the point where I’m almost already over it. Fuck summer, bring on fall. There I said it. It is July. I swear I blinked and June was over. That month went by faster than any other month in my entire life I am not kidding. So much so, I almost wrote June instead of July because I genuinely thought we were still in it. Anyway, I am really tired of not being able to walk to get a piping hot black coffee and drink it outdoors because of the heat. In fall, you do not have that problem. You also don’t have the issue of profusely sweating even when you are just wearing a tshirt. I need to make a bucket list because my life is flashing before my eyes and all of these experiences I want to have while I don’t have kids, need to actually happen before I am laying on my death bed crying about it. My writing is shit this morning and I don’t blame you if you feel like stopping. There is no direction or even decent descriptions which are what I like writing about. This morning is just another realization that I need to keep doing instead of being lazy and giving my time up for people who don’t have the same interests in mind. The problem is, a lot of these experiences I want to do with someone that likes me because I feel like it elevates it to a whole other level. In due time though. I am being very patient. In the mean time I will need to make a list and continue to go to work. My word cause I need some money for this life.

[starvingheadrush]

Road Trip

I rub my eyes before I open them for the first time today. Couldn’t tell you what time I went to bed the night before because I spent the day out in the sun getting slapped by the sun, and took the evening to drink and paint on an empty stomach. Needless to say I was rather delirious when I fell onto my bed in jean shorts and a worn t-shirt. I looked at the clock and threw the covers off me, noticing the colour of my newly darkened skin. There’s something about tanned skin. I sat up on the bed and as usual thought of my favourite experience I get to partake in each day- morning coffee. A little bent over stretch then I go to flick the kettle. Obviously chug a glass of water first because gin doesn’t hydrate me as much as I’d like it to. I dump 2 tbs of coffee into the French press and smell the inside of the bag for a quick hit before the real thing. Turning on some music, I walk around looking at the art I made the night before. Blank canvases are now covered in messy, intricate colours and words. I have never taken an art class but I try my best to explain through creating, what exactly it is I’m feeling. Sometimes, I don’t think there’s a medium that can fully project that. Scratch that- often times, I don’t think there are adequate mediums. So when I have this urge to create the feeling inside me that I can’t get out, I get mad and settle for coffee and a cigarette. I don’t smoke, usually. But when I do, there’s a damn good reason. Like trying to live with intense emotion bottled inside you without a means to get it out. So occasionally, like today, on this mid-morning pre-breakfast moment, I accept it and succumb to a self induced head rush. Although I know it’s bad, sometimes I like the headrush you get on an empty stomach. When it’ s so empty you don’t even care for food. Why? Because then it makes you feel like your floating. Nearly seeing stars but you know it’s temporary. And if you get up too fast, good luck. There seems to be a mattifying filter on everything you look at. So this, ladies, is the perfect time to look in the mirror and accept your young beauty. Oh yes, and morning abs. The coffee is finally ready and what better combo than that and a starving head rush while you sit on your apartments rooftop. I look for the mug that will suit my picky hand and  fill it just enough to ensure light spillage to decorate my beat up wood floors. I head toward the few stairs that lead to the opening window and climb out. The air is dry, already hot-given it’s nearly 12pm, and the rock music echoing from my speakers seeps through the window to keep me company. At least until my friends decide it’s time to barge in my place and keep my hostage for a day while we road trip the coast.