Purging

You already know.

She’s just there, to your left a bit and back, back behind you and an aisle across. You can see her out of the corner of your eye when she moves a bit and in fact, you can see a lot out of the corner of your eye when something moves a bit, but it’s her your actually watching. Don’t look to the right; avoid looking to the right. You’ll hate to look to the right, as the scenery flashes and blurs together creating some mess of blue green foliage and you simply cannot watch. You feel your temples start to throb if you stare too long, trying to focus your eyes on something that was never meant to be examined. So you don’t; you can see it out of the corner of your eye when you look to the right, but you never do. To the left, one seat behind and across the aisle. The double wide blue cushioned seats swallow her skinny little body up, but you can see her; and when the strand of hair drifts out of place and dances down in front of her eyes, you can see her as she move to wipe it away.

Folded open on her lap, much like a magnet slowly beckoning for her face to slowly rest down upon it, is a bound monster of great strength and power. It’s toying with her, talking sweetly to her, you can tell. You’ve met one of these wicked things before and you know how it calls to you, how it makes you forget who you are if you’ll let it, and how it can send you whipping and whirling off into another dimension, into another universe and time.  Her eyes scarce blink, and remain fixated on the pages that are not quite yellow and not quite white, but a bland in between.

You are jealous.

Everything is white. But not white like a blank hospital white, white with depth, white where some white is darker and some is lighter, and its constant, ever changing. It’s bright like sun and you don’t like to look. I feel my pupils shrink and my temples throb and it hurts. The tendons behind my eyeballs, hidden deep within my eyesockets strain and thus an auburn red is added to the white, shaking and scattered, static and flashing. It feels like it should be black but there is white light everywhere. If you think I’m good wait till I don’t have this mess going on in my head and then watch me go. Watch me do my thing, watch me sharpen my knives on your dull surface. The muscles that surround and protect my brain strain, they ebb and flow and I can feel where their sutured together and clinging to one another tightly. I can feel the strain, the ladderlike webs grabbing onto eachother. And my heart, my heart seems to rise up almost to the surface before my skin beats it back down. It is not red like the color of the blood that pumps through it, but rather baby pink, and blue in the areas where it is working it’s hardest. It is tubes of white and dark purple shadows. 

Elegance

A true portrait of elegance can be seen only in a dancer.

All that strength melts into simply a whim to play and love and feel. 

Found this, wrote it 2 years ago.
An old beau and I have quite the story.
We thought once, we'd write it.
Best seller material, certainly.

Here's what I started.

All is quiet, and all is dark, save for the glow of the vibrant moon leaking in through the windows on either side of the chamber of which a group of privates call home. The weak blue light of the night is aided by the pocket flashlight of the belly-down recruit scribbling words onto paper on his skinny bed in the barrack.

            “Le, I doubt I’ll ever give this to you just like the letters you said you wrote but never sent. Where to start.”

He signs the letter that will never go anywhere “-can’t wait to see your smile again, Bri”

She sat, belly-down, on her queen size bed, complete with pillows for miles and two bedspreads, recounting ever detail of the day, just as she has since the second he left. She wrote in earnest, in honesty – because she knew she would never let him see this journal. It was freeing and relaxing to know that she could finally be honest with someone. Finally let her feelings be released without fear of judgement, consequence or reprimand.

“I’m so lame I’m like obsessive. Once you were actually gone, I’ve never missed or wanted anything so badly in my life.” 

Shreds of the Past

Written a long time ago...
I remember the faces I had in my head for these characters.
I remember the room
I remember the dress...

On Mon, Apr 28, 2008 at 2:59 PM, Leighann wrote:

Although two glasses of Dom Perignon were not quite enough to blur her vision, she did hold her chin up a little bit higher. The room was glowing, or was it just her? She embraced her secluded position on the west wall of the great room, and let herself be entertained my all that was going on around her.

The dance floor bustled and swooshed with elegant dresses and fine tuxedos. A meteor shower of gems and jewels glimmer against the walls and surroundings and candles flit and fluxed around the borders of the great hall. Teddy worked hard on her third helping of bubbly. Her yellow cream colored gown dipped so low and rested so delicately on the small of her back that she dared not engage in the celebrations whisking about on the dance floor at the center of the room. "How do those ladies do that?" She thought to herself. Besides, she didn't want to miss a single second in her surveying of a very handsome young gentleman on the opposite side of the hall.

He was young, laughing and joking with those among him. "Young and absolutely gorgeous!" Teddy thought out loud, but speaking to no one in particular. She silently analyzed: he's drinking draft beer; he's got to be ready for commitment. "How young could he really be?" Again aloud, but directed to no one. Teddy summarized that he was far too sophisticated, and must be of ripe age and maturity; perfect.

Teddy's observations had been noticed by the gent and would no go unaddressed. Swishing her bubbly around in her glass nervously ad he fought the maze of tables to reach her, she realized how dry her mouth had become in those minutes of analyzing. "Hi there" His voice was, as she had surmised, deep, intelligent, and extremely sexy. His confused and possibly irritated look told Teddy that it was her turn to speak, most appropriately an explanation. "I'm Teddy", she managed to stammer out. "And I'm an extremely interesting specimen, eh?" he joked, she blushed.

By the time there was no fluid left to swoosh in her glass, Teddy was convinced that this was the beginning of something refreshing. She liked this character, he wad cunning, he had a brain! And he was mature. The conversation had been pleasantly solid, appropriate for the event they were both a part of. "What a catch" she thought to herself, this time being sure not to speak aloud.

Teddy found that her expectations had not been far off. He was four years her senior, living in London, but primitive to Chicago. "Oh! I grew up in the states also!" Teddy indulged in the similarity. "Yes, I could tell by the way you talk. Please don't say Chicago, I'll kick myself!" "Manhattan". "Manhattan!" He echoed. "Would you like another glass?" "Please".

In his absence, Teddy's breath evened finally, She put her hand on her heart as if to keep it from pounding right out of her, Deciding it was safest, Teddy sat down on the satin covered chair at the round table behind her. With her hand still on her heart, she read her place setting. "I wonder if I can just change my name permanently." She spoke to herself, once again out loud. "Theodora", she cringed. It's time for another drink."

With Gabriel and Dom both returning, Teddy's mind raced for the new topic of conversation. "So what do you do?" she asked, "Oh gosh…I'm prying, he's going to hate me." She thought to herself. "I'm a civil engineer" "Oh you're civil alright" Teddy prayed she hadn't said it aloud. "So…what do you do?" she said again. They both laughed. Gabriel put his hands together on the table and began to passionately explain something about water and third world countries. He made just the cutest face when he was explaining things. His eyebrows rose up into thick dark arcs and certain syllables made his nose dip down ever so slightly. He must have realized how little she had actually been paying attention. For a moment the locked eyes. His big, dark brown eyes stared right through hers. It felt like they tore right into her just under the neck, ripped out her heart and let it sit flat on the table. The music came to a halt and Gabriel snapped out of the trance that the pair had been caught in; Teddy, still very much strapped tightly in.

Gabriel looked away, seemingly at nothing, and then quite clearly something. His eyes just lit right up and his lips stretched and parted into a brilliant smile. His hands reached forward for something and Teddy finally peeled her eyes off to look in the direction of that something. "Hi Gabe!". "Hey babe". Gabriel slinked his arm around her waist. A low area to be grasping, but a perfect height for his seated position with her standing beside. "Teddy, this is my wife Christy". Teddy digested these words slowly, and carefully, fearful that Dom would not appreciate such an elixir. Her heart sank further than a usual 'heart sinking' would. This time she was fairly certain that her heart sank down to the bottom of her feet and out on the floor, where she stomped on it. Kneading and jabbing at it with her high heels. Bold brown eyes stared at Teddy, polite, but hateful all at the same time. Christy was even more stunning than he was. Her straight, shiny black hair rested calmly on her shoulders and her perfect ivory skin stood out against the blackness. "I bet she's smart. Smarter than me, and doing very well." Teddy reluctantly admitted to herself. "It's a pleasure" Teddy lied. Christy was flawless, absolutely flawless, with a glass of white wine held carelessly in her hand.

 

 

 

Job

I don't want to ever grow old

And there's no way I can be considered young

timeless...


I just want to be timeless.
Like Marilyn Monroe, or Martha Graham.

I want no one to have any clue what my physical age is
I want my actions to speak louder than my words
I want to be wise

and I want to die old and full of days.

Good job.

Just wanted to take a moment to share with you a lesson I learned today.

I recently purchased a theater curtain and tracking from a company out of New Jersey. We cold called based on their large stock of used curtains, in attempt to gain a great piece, at a money conscious cost.
 

Originally, they had 3 large used curtains that would fit our space. After going through the motions, I was informed that the curtains were sold out from under us, but there was another set of three coming in, and I could instead have those. They were of a heavier material, and they would honor the originally quoted cost. With dismay due to the time constraints on me, we went through the paperwork a second time. This would set us back two weeks.
 

A third time, I could scarcely believe. I was told by the sales representative that the second set of curtains was sold out from under me. They were to get me a brand new curtain, built for me, at the same originally quoted cost. Fine, wonderful - but I needed it fast! The sales representative quickly became aware that I was not happy with the situation at all, and yet he remained graceful and professional. Two more weeks.
 

A third set of paperwork, and our fingers crossed, our curtain has come in and is beautiful.

In reflection, I realized that I was definitely very harsh to this sales represenative, who in my eyes couldn't push the paper work through fast enough for us to attain the proposed curtain each time! Come on! Yet, he remained poised and pleasurable throughout my clearly stated discontent.

 

Today I called the company and requested to speak to a supervisor, with intent to give a positive review to a very deserving sales representative. The woman who picked up the phone heard me out, and heard my compliments of an employee who handled a tough customer in a great way. She then said, "Leighann, you were lucky enough to have been dealing with the owner of the company himself". Shocked, and rather dumbfounded, I swiftly inserted my foot in my mouth and just sort of waited to hear what she would say next!

 

"That's just how we operate here, everyone lends a hand to get the customers what they need. We know you are all under time constraints, and we always do the best we can from top to bottom. I'm so glad you're happy with the curtain...etc."

 

....

They are going to be sending a photographer to photograph the beautiful curtain up on the track in our beautiful studio, to be placed on their "projects" page of their website, with a blurb about the studio; who we are and what we do.

 

I guess today's lesson is to give someone deserving - a pat on the back. Not just because it's good for them and feels good for you, but because it might actually really benefit you in ways beyond your imagination!

sometimes

things i wish would happen even though they never have and probably won't:

* When I'm working really late a friend will show up unannounced and bring a 6 pack and ask to help, not distract. With a six pack it's bound to be fun by the end anyway. My work isn't boring.

*When I'm cleaning the studio late into the night a friend will show up unannounced and grab windex and paper towels and say "how can I help?" It's really fun, I try to make it like a dance party, except I'm always alone.

*When I'm really sick my boyfriend would be selfless enough to come and see if I'm feeling okay. He doesn't have to stay long, I wouldn't want them to get sick. He could go back to work after five minutes, but being alone when you're sick is just the most awful thing on the planet.

*Someone would acknowledge how hard I work. Or how little I sleep in order to work that hard. Or how many meals I accidentally skip. Or that I'm only 22. Or that I relaly didn't get a regular childhood because I've been working like a slave since I was 9.

*That friends, who don't stay in touch or try to stay in touch, would stop saying they miss me, or stop mutually calling us bad friends. Instead, reach out every now and again. Please.

*That I would live long enough to meet a soul mate and have a wedding. I hope I can remember all the beautiful things that I want to happen at my wedding. I don't think I'll really have time to plan it well. I hope for that too - enough time to plan my wedding.

to name a few.

stand back.

Alright so I’m having the most shallow reaction of all time entirely at this moment and I can’t not write about it.

I’ve been seeing this wonderful man for close to a year. He is seriously, just, the best.

I feel as though you learn and grow and age you learn and grow and sort out who and what is best for you.

And certainly, he’s the closest I’ve come so far to exactly who I’d love to spend the rest of my life with.

Perhaps I have a hand in it as well, as I’ve learned how to communicate my needs in a much simpler way, etc.

But at any rate, I’m loving it.

 

Recently though, I’m feeling the 2 hour distance between us. I’m feeling my bed sheets as colder than ever.

I’m no longer feeling his embrace; instead I’m finding strange and foreign moments when I actually feel rather stale.

If it was stale alone, fine. It’ll go away or I’ll make him go away but either way I will move forward.

 

But I am doing the unheard of, I am feeling something so sinister…

…I miss my ex.

About three years ago I ended a two year relationship simply on the basis that I didn’t have the time that he needed.

Again with the 2 hour distance, it worked for me but it didn’t work for him, and when someone puts themselves in a position to be a stressor in my life they are quickly removed.

I loved him dearly, and he was the first person in my life that I would actually turn my brain off in front of.

Stop thinking, stop worrying, stop overanalyzing and simply be. Simply exist and soak up the love that he so readily devoted to me.

This man was also significantly larger than my new man. Stature, height, muscles, everything was just bigger.

The type of man who can scoop you up against your will (but secretly loving it) and squeeze you and stop you and hold you.

The type of man who’s arms you get lost in amidst a heavy-eyed sleepy cuddle session.

 

I miss those arms…

Bi Polar

This country - hold that - this world seem so full of diagnoses, self pity, and illness. Self inflicted or otherwise. You can WEBMD.COM your symptoms, you can grant yourself "depression", and you can limp. (I dare you to read that metaphorically, and then analytically and look at the difference, by the way.)

I'm not suggesting I have something. But I think perhaps I have tendencies in a certain direction at the moment, and perhaps the situation could be remedied by following a certain, well, remedy.

I have nights where I'll lay in bed and feel completely accomplished. Not in life, not in matters of business of financials, just in the sense that I did all I possibly could today; filling every moment with productivity, creative thought, etc. It's with that satisfaction that I mosy off to sleep.

...Only wake to a day where I can't seem to find a direction to begin in. I'm losing ammo by firing aimlessly into a crowd and I just spin, dizzily, onto the floor where I weep until the sun goes down. There is no clarity in my mind on days like this. Maybe its a synesthesia thing, maybe it's..whatever. At any rate, there is no feelings of "depression", or hills and valleys like in traditional bi-polar disorder. It's almost just as if my focus is bi-polar...

He loves me. I can see it in the little spark at the pit of his deep brown iris. I can see it when he holds his stare a little longer, a little deeper; memorizing everything. I know the symptoms well, I've seen them many a time before, and I feel awful about it.

Guess what. I don't have a heart left to give.

Funeral Thoughts

Me and my funeral thoughts...

Riddle me this batman. Everyone always says "Ohhhh I wonder who would show up to my funeral if suddenly I were to die wah wah wah"

Well.

I KNOW for a FACT my line would be out the door. Everyone and their brother would have "known" me, or had a class with me, or worked with me, or danced with me, EVERYONE.

But who is actually there for me. Who can I call and cry to. It's those people I want to seek out. It's THOSE people i want to do something dramatic and DIE to seek out.

Why don't I know them?

Suicide

When a person commits suicide,

they are robbing their soulmate, of their soulmate.

Adult vs. Child

So for ages, my question has been: Am I crazy or are they?

I know I don't process things the same as most people in this society.
I know my critical thinking leads to a destination that most just don't go to.

Is that my error or theirs? Is it an error?
I had determined, to each his own. We've all lived our own experiences.
My childhood and upbringing has been significantly different than most.

So then, that makes sense. I've been thinking like an adult since Age 9.
Of course I'll come to different conclusions than the children I'm surrounded by.

For a while I was convinced of that. But why is it then - that even some of these adults,
are not actually behaving like adults?

I think I've honestly come to a rather harsh - seemingly prideful - but honestly humble - conclusion that it's really a difference in smart or not smart.

I think there's a bit of wisdom and knowledge that I've sponged up, that others just seem to be disinterested in.

I'm just not interested in letting the real world smack me in the face. I'd much rather smack IT in the face before it even expects me.

Rock.

Battery

I've had an interesting analogy in my head lately that I've been working on analyzing and seeing through as a full thought.

I recently replaced the battery on my cute little old as the dickens macbook.
I replaced the battery because I acted on assumption that it's refusal to hold a charge was the cause of it's demise.
Once the battery was replaced, I learned it was the charger that had really gone sour.
The source of power, not the warehouse of power, is what was hurt.

With all these fancy apple products, someone once told me it's best for the life of the device (and the battery of the device) to charge it full, and then let it die. Never letting it sit on a charger for too long, and never letting it rest "dead" for too long - But always letting it go from one extreme to the next.

And now that I've prefaced this whole bit quite thoroughly, I'd like to challenge you.
I feel like a battery. I feel like I need to recharge to 100% - but not a drop more. And then completely exude all power within me until I am - theoretically - dead. The cycle continues as I disallow myself to remain "dead" too long, and rather, recharge to 100%. I can't let myself only recharge 50%. I can't recharge myself before I give 50% either. Full, Whole, Healthy - Extreme.

We take care of our apple products so well, but let's work on ourselves, too!

Fame

The only thing I know for certain about fame, is that it is synonymous with alone.