Bones · books · Dexter · epilepsy · Harry Potter · migraine · seizures · Sherlock Holmes · True Blood

Blah Blah Blah

It’s been a painful week for me. Since last Monday afternoon, I’ve had neck pain, sore shoulders, and increasing headache pain. From the basic dull ache at the base of my skull (which always comes with that sore neck), to a series of intense stabbing pains. This afternoon I felt as if someone was repeatedly piercing my temple with a red-hot ice pick. I’ve spent hours days curled up under my quilt in bed, all the lights off, praying for the pain to go away. Never have I been so thankful for my sleep mask and ear plugs, because lights, and the sound of sports from my father’s television, have nearly killed me. And then, Sunday night, around 10:30, I had a seizure. First one since February. Which means that after that, I had a bigger headache, my tongue hurts where I bit it, and I’m tired. As well, I am sore all over; my legs hurt the most, and just moving kills.


So. Instead of spending this week helping Charlie move into his new apartment, like I had planned, I’m sitting here in my room, watching television, eating jello. Reading. Right now I’m waiting for the season premiere of one of my favorite shows to begin on TNT. Rizzoli & Isles is a crime drama based on a book series, as most of my favorites are. I’d read all of the books by Tess Gerritsen, long before the show began.

Most of my favorite shows are based on books. Sherlock. True Blood. Dexter. Bones (although I don’t care for the books).  My favorite movies, too. Cold Comfort Farm. The Color Purple.  Bridget Jones Diary. The Harry Potter films. Sense and Sensibility. And Pride and Prejudice. Oh, and To Kill A Mockingbird!

Yes, I’m babbling. So what. Go read a book if you don’t like it. Or watch a television show based on one.

angels · blood · Dexter · Elvis · poetry · reading · writing

Blood and Poetry

I went to college. Actually, I went to several colleges, and changed my major several times before I finally finished, but that’s totally not the point. The BA I finally ended up with is in English:Creative Writing:Poetry, with a minor in Theater. Yes, that’s a degree that will get you a job in any field!

I always enjoyed poetry, although I’m still not sure why I chose to major in it. I’m more of a reader than a writer, in spite of the many aspirations my mother has for me. I did put together a collection (a “thesis” if you will) for my final project, and gave many readings for classes. That part I was good at; I’d never had a problem being in front of others. But over the years I’ve written less and less, and I miss it. In an effort to get back in the groove, so to speak, I dug up as many of my old poems as I could find. Aren’t you lucky–I’m going to post some of them! (Be afraid, be very afraid!)

Before we get to today’s poem, can someone explain to me why, when I am feeling low, watching a show like Dexter, or reading a Jonathan Kellerman novel, full of blood and mayhem, monsters and murder, makes me feel so much better? It can’t just be me, or these things wouldn’t be as popular as they are, right? I’ve spent the last two days watching Dexter on Netflix, while doing all the other things I need to do. And yes, I suddenly feel so much more normal. Really, compared to most of the characters on this show, I’m a paragon of mental health. Good to know.

And now for the literary portion of today’s post! One of my favorites. Enjoy.



In a hypothetical world,

I am a bimbo goddess of poetry,

Enshrined in my coffeehouse castle,

my words the songs of a generation.

Attended by sugary seraphim upon my beachside throne,

my name resonates on the tongues of cappuccino demigods.

He, bespectacled, brilliant, falls at my feet,

quoting darkly my childlines.

As gilded graces join us in our dance,

we whirl through a city of stars into

our moonpalace home.

Fall through velvet loveclouds into beds of miracles.

Strongly carefree of wings or wheels,

tasting of copper and chocolate,

a literary, bad-­tempered love of scarlet phrases in my head.

He whispers, solemn:

“God has spoken, and he sounds like Elvis.”