coloredspoons - Tumblr blog

[coloredspoons]

bk

playing songs for the broken, the broken hearted. all up in the corner, pushing buttons to make others smile. tall and wide, big load baby. big load body, please hold it against me. the first time didn't work out. you didn't know what to say. maybe i'll see her another day. all up in the corner, there he was again. smelling like cigars with a big fat grin. "will you play a song for me?" "sure, darlin', what'll it be?" that night was long and that night was wild. i remember you pulling me in. a lot's a mess, a lot's a blur. but i'll never forget that naughty boy grin. now here we lay all up in our cave. the stars on my ceiling dance across your face. kitty bonks your hand, you squeeze me tight. calming presence reassures everything is alright.

[coloredspoons]

it's only a matter of time focus on the prize <3

[coloredspoons]

I know I have good judgment, I know I have good taste It's funny and it's ironic that only I feel that way I promise 'em that you're different and everyone makes mistakes But just don't I heard that you're an actor, so act like a stand-up guy Whatever devil's inside you, don't let him out tonight I tell them it's just your culture and everyone rolls their eyes Yeah, I know All I'm asking, baby

Please, please, please Don't prove I'm right And please, pleasе, please Don't bring me to tеars when I just did my makeup so nice Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker, oh Please, please, please (Ah)

Well, I have a fun idea, babe (Uh-huh), maybe just stay inside I know you're cravin' some fresh air, but the ceiling fan is so nice (It's so nice, right?) And we could live so happily if no one knows that you're with me I'm just kidding, but really (Kinda), really, really

Please, please, please (Please don't prove I'm right) Don't prove I'm right And please, please, please Don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice Heartbreak is one thing (Heartbreak is one thing), my ego's another (Ego's another) I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker, oh Please, please, please (Ah)

If you wanna go and be stupid Don't do it in front of me If you don't wanna cry to my music Don't make me hate you prolifically Please, please, please (Please) Please, please, please (Please) Please (Please), please (Please), please (Ah)

[coloredspoons]

sweet-o-donuts

i grew up a half mile away from the ocean, in a city called huntington beach. one of my favorite memories is going to the donut store with my dad before he dropped me off at my grandparent's house. the little shop was called sweet-o-donuts, and to my recent surprise, they are still in operation! my heart melted when i saw the 'OPEN' letters next to their hours on google. a wave of nostalgia made me feel warm.

many times a week, i remember my dad waking me up before the sunrise, around five thirty, wrapping me up in a blanket and plopping me in the passenger seat of his pick up truck, cab already toasty warm for me. we then would make the very short drive down the street to 'sweet-o', as he called it; i'd d tumble out in my bunny slippers and blankie. i remember pressing my hands against the glass of the donut case, always followed with a hushy "hands off!" i remember ogling all the different colorful and tasty looking options; plumpy, shiny cream-filleds, crumply old-people apple-fritters, hot pink and bright orange cake rings. of course, i had to have sprinkles!

my dad would get a big black coffee and a plain ring, i'd usually get my favorite - a chocolate bar STUFFED and COVERED with chocolate chips. can you believe they still have it on their menu?

we'd sit down at one of the little yellow retro booths and just, sit. he'd take a couple sips, i'd stuff a donut hole in my mouth and blah blah blah about whatever was going on in my head. just a few minutes together, just him and me. and then we'd drive to beachwood lane.

it never got easier watching my dad drive away on those mornings. i'd watch his truck drive into the sunrise, every spin of the tire pulling my heart further and further away. i knew he would be back, but it wouldn't be soon enough. he would be gone one, two, sometimes three days at a time at the fire station. and although times were hard at beachwood lane, i treasure those mornings where i knew he was coming home, coming to get me! i'd sit backwards on the big no-living-in-the-living-room couch and stare out the window until i could see his tiny truck off in the distance. the closer he got, the faster my heart would race. i could physically feel relief pouring into my body.

i grew to learn that this "pulling" feeling was simply a sense of safety. when he turned off the truck and walked up to the door, the click of the handle would give me a soothing rush; he was here. i was okay.

[coloredspoons]

simple kind of life

For a long time I was in love Not only in love, I was obsessed With a friendship that no one else could touch It didn't work out, I'm covered in shells

And all I wanted was the simple things A simple kind of life And all I needed was a simple man So I could be the wife

I'm so ashamed, I've been so mean I don't know how it got to this point Oh, I always was the one with all love You came along, I'm hunting you down

Like a sick domestic abuser Looking for a fight And all I wanted was the simple things A simple kind of life

If we met tomorrow for the very first time Would it start all over again? Would I try to make you mine?

I always thought, I'd be a mom Sometimes I wish for a mistake The longer that I wait, the more selfish that I get You seem like you'd be a good dad

Now all those simple things are simply too complicated for my life In all I get so faithful to my freedom A selfish kind of life When all I ever wanted was the simple things A simple kind of life

A simple kind of life A simple kind of life A simple kind of life

[coloredspoons]

i just realized something insane.

i abandon people so easily

because i was abandoned so easily

a lot to process there.

[coloredspoons]

the fear

the reality is slowly setting in at the age of thirty three. i've been alone my entire life. because of that, i don't trust anyone with my feelings and emotions. because of that, i don't let anyone get close. because of that, i don't have anyone close, and the older i get, the further away everyone else gets. my dad won't respond to my texts. my mom (still alive!) is doing much better, so there's that. i really do look forward to reuniting with her at some point. but once they are gone, and my grandparents are gone, that's it. it'll almost be like i don't exist because the only people that know me are dead. i guess i wouldn't necessarily call it a 'fear' i have. i'm not scared. it's inevitable. it's almost beautiful in a macabre way. i find it a little sad, but mostly fascinating. the reality of not having kids is starting to sink in, even though i still plan on becoming a mom of some sort one day. but said reality means having no one at your side when it *is* time for you to go. people talk about being surrounded by all of their loved ones at their passing, and to me that just sounds overwhelming. give me peace and quiet, a cigarette, a hot shower, a massage from a hot dude, some episodes of seinfeld, some drugs and let's gooooooooooooooo. nah, but seriously. the fear is kinda sad. kinda scary. i will eventually be the equivalent to a dried-up, crunchy dead bug that's stuck in a crevice between the floor and the wall. a nothing. a trash. a distant memory. into the bin i go.

[coloredspoons]

the atrium

i tried to think back as far as i could to my first safe space. other than the long-running winner, the shower, i was able to recall a memory that brought me to immediate tears. the atrium! i was so young when i fell in love with that space.

an atrium is basically an outdoor space, but inside.

there was a sliding glass door from the living room and when you stepped out, you were hit with fresh air, shiny green plants, and blue sky above. but it was surrounded by four walls. well, three walls and one glass door. i always played alone in the atrium. i splashed my little hands in the fountain in the corner; it was a creamy white statue of a cherub, holding a jug where the water would run out. i popped the seed pods of impatiens flowers; they were first a little green teardrop shape, and with a quick pop they became this curly q caterpillar. they always made me smile. i would play with the rollie pollies and make them their own little terrariums with dirt and rocks and twigs. i would even fill up a little bottle cap with water to make sure they stayed hydrated.

a lot of my childhood was very lonely, and very indoors. i spent hours and hours inside reading books, drawing pictures, being forced to watch daytime tv and soap operas with my step grandmother. i would stare out the window and see the other kids playing outside in the sun, running through the sprinklers, throwing ball. don't get me wrong, i was allowed to play outside, but not nearly as much as the other kids. it's probably why i loved the atrium so much. it was the closest thing i had to the outdoors, and i was allowed to go out there any time i wanted during the day. the atrium practically became my bedroom.

i remember tip-toeing out there when it was still dark outside. my step grandmother would sleep in very late, which i had a hate/love relationship with. i would get scared at times because i was so little and other than her sleeping, no one else was home. but it was also exciting; slipping out into the crisp cold little indoor outdoor room, looking up at the stars, hearing the trickle of morning traffic begin to zoom by, all by myself. although i was out there for hours with nothing more than what the atrium had to offer, i was so happy and full of peace and joy. my imagination ran beyond wild.

i can still hear the trickling of the fountain. when i close my eyes, i can still hear the early morning traffic from the open exposure. i can picture my little rollie pollie and skipper friends putting up with my curious little mind. i can smell the fresh air. i can see the green ferns, the pink impatiens, the white alyssum.

my life right now is in absolute shambles.

tears stream down my face as i type that last sentence.

but at least i will always have these memories.

here is a little video of an impatiens seed pod ;)

https://fb.watch/pXHgimHwrn/

*update; I've been informed that a true atrium has a glass cover typically. In my case, there was no glass cover. In my case, my entire family called it 'the atrium'.

[coloredspoons]

one thing that makes me a little sad? my talents were wasted. i wish someone would have FORCED me to continue to push myself. i was so fucking good at ANYTHING i tried. ice skating, swimming, writing, photography, sign language, event planning, babysitting, hell i even did gymnastics on horses for a while (vaulting). i never really realized how talented i was (am?) until i entered my thirties. what a waste! now i'm too out of shape to do anything, depression is sucking me alive like a leech, i not only FAIL but am a failure. i wish i could go back in time and smack that little girl silly! if i ever have my own daughter (lol?) i promise to all FUCK that i will push push push her to follow her dreams and land a career in an area she's passionate about. the other day i was thinking about my dream job, being a photographer for national geographic, and laughed. "how silly to even think i could have ever landed THAT gig...." but then i thought...well, SOMEONE did! that could have been me! but i had no cheerleaders. i had no pushy mother or father. once i 'failed' at something i never wanted to go back. i was never taught how to fight for something you want, something you love. what a waste, man.

[coloredspoons]

When you know, you know When you know, you know It kinda makes me laugh, runnin' down that path When you're good, it's gold 'Cause when you know, you know

Words aren't my friends But they're red flags, they're white knights They're black eyes and they're blue lies If you're asking yourself, "How do you know?" Then that's your answer, the answer is no You gotta run, gotta run, run, run, run like your head's on fire Run away like your head is on fire

[coloredspoons]

are you there?

you know who you are.

give me a sign.

full moon out, thinking about your funny jokes.

[coloredspoons]

“It’s about who you miss at 2 in the afternoon when you’re busy, not 2 in the morning when you’re lonely.”

— Unknown

[coloredspoons]

“No one notices your tears, no one notices your sadness, no one notices your pain but they all notice your mistakes.”

— Unknown

[coloredspoons]

"...and she was known for being the biggest bitch this side of the mississippi!"

mean. ah yes, to be mean. what a pathetic, powerful little word. i can be mean. i can be very, very mean. but i don't want to be. no. i want to be nice. because nice feels good. mean doesn't feel good. being mean doesn't feel good. it doesn't feel good when people are mean to me. life is so short. so god damned short. maybe mean people don't know what it's like to almost die? i once almost died, then i vowed to stop being mean to people. life is so short. so fucking short. i used to be a really mean person. because people were really mean to me. but adults were mean to me when i was a child. my mother was mean to me by telling me she was coming to visit, and she wouldn't show up. i would sit at the window for hours. my father was mean to me by telling me i was fat and ugly, and that boys wouldn't like me unless i lost weight. my step-grandma was mean to me...sigh. mean is being nice. kids were mean to me in school because i didn't have a mommy and my daddy was weird. kids were mean to me when i lived with them because i didn't have a mommy and my daddy was weird. when people are nice to me, it makes me feel warm inside. in this day in age, no one cares about each other anymore. it's all about instant gratification, and respect is an old wives tale. remember the saying, 'put yourself in other peoples' shoes before you judge them?' or before you say anything to them? what happened to that? are people really that self absorbed that they don't realize the pain they cause others on a daily basis? these people aren't even your friends. these people aren't even your acquaintances. yet the energy they suck out of you could fuel a marathon. it's time to let it go. manifest that energy that was stolen from you, and pay it forward. do you want to be remembered as the nice guy who made people laugh? or the asshole that had everyone on eggshells all of the time? do you want to be remembered as the passive aggressive bitch that literally made people cry? or the cool chick that lent a helping hand and listening ear during rough times? is it really that hard of a choice? only your ego can decide.

[coloredspoons]

untitled

it's finally here again. that shockingly crisp autumn cold turning into winter frost. another year, another winter not behind the wheel of a car. my mornings are somewhat spectacular in a sense. they've changed quite a bit in the last year. i am really taking the time to move slow, stay cozy, be comfy, give thanks. my hot showers are twice as long, twice as dark+candlelit, twice as nice. i basically wear work-appropriate pajamas to work everyday; layer upon layer of squish and soft. it's like wearing a giant hug all day, and i feel so safe. that's a feeling i don't feel nearly as much as i used to. safe. after i bundle up and i'm ready to leave for the day, i take a deep breath and open my front door. my face instantly bit with that bite from miss mother nature. there's just something about winter kissing my warm face every morning when i leave my house. it just makes me smile. i walk down those steps, sometimes wet, covered in moss and sometimes not. i land at the bottom and begin my daily trek to the bus stop. smiling to the cold breeze nipping at my nose and cheeks. although i would rather be driving my own little car all bundled up inside, i truly do appreciate the little things in life that i wouldn't be exposed to IF i drove. i can't wait for the first quiet, eerie snowfall.

[coloredspoons]

d r e a m s c a n c o m e t r u e

[coloredspoons]

she was no longer 'that girl'

that was it. she was no longer 'that girl.' and for the first time in a long time, she felt fucking free. sure, she gained 30 pounds. she didn't wear make up anymore, not even eyebrows. she wouldn't even look in the mirror. but she was free!

the daily DMs dwindled from double digits to dust. the constant crying that chaos caused came to a close. but it was at a cost. letting go of love. or what she thought was love. and allowing static to pour into her world. at least it was noise. at least she wasn't alone. what first felt like a shared life raft with someone new, two broken souls struggling to stay above choppy water; the static...my god, the static. it grew so loud. it hurt so bad. she ended up growing so sick and tired of static that she stabbed the "life" raft with her knife. she drifted down. she lay amongst the ocean floor. saltwater eyes stinging, she was free! that was it. she was no longer 'that girl'. she was no longer the siren that perched upon rocks of tide and cooed the heathens into their drunken slumber. she was a tiny shell of herself at the bottom of the pacific. but she was okay. she was okay for now.