She's Bad Puns and Cooking Experiments With Tofu

She's bad puns and cooking experiments with tofu. She's literary analysis and red correcting pens and the long dramatic setting descriptions in novels. She genuinely laughs at cheesy pick-up lines. She's the sound of cracking ice in lukewarm water and ghetto rap. She’s the overpowering smell of gasoline. She is polyester and that awful 70s avocado green color. She’s peanut butter, salami and pickle sandwiches, and you never figured out how that combination came to be but it works for her. She’s bad dancing and too-loud laughter and deep sea aquariums. She loves like dog nose prints on car windows - chaotic, all over the place and the only thing you can see. She is flowering cacti and rainbows and daisies and the Bowie knife she keeps in her car. And someday, she'll find someone to eat pancakes and meatballs for breakfast with her.

She is the most complex puzzle you've ever met.

She makes you want to spend all your time figuring her out. 

She Loves Him Like Sour Gummy Worms and Those Maneki-Neko Japanese Waving Cats

She loves him like sour gummy worms and those maneki-neko Japanese waving cats that stand guard in almost every Chinese restaurant. She loves him like warm scarves in the winter time and the freckles on their dog. Her love is flavored water and the crack in the spine of a new book. She’s baby socks and finding movie ticket stubs in your pocket months later. She loves him like the three musketeers love France. She’s her love of the color yellow and Batman and ninjas and useless trinkets bought for less than a dollar. She loves him like scented markers and magnetic note pads and organizational tools, not because she actually uses these things but because she loves the illusion of productivity. She’s beaches and mini sweet tarts and bookshelves. To her, he’s like cute baby animals and the noodle-shaped floaties and the intricate details of a Hayao Miyazaki movie.

She loves him with all the idiosyncrasies of herself.

She loves him with everything she is.

Jack Kerouac - 25 July 2013

I love the inspiration of the Beats

The free-spirited, pick-up-and-go idea

That is more a representation of longstanding notions

Of manhood in America,

Because men seem to be able to do whatever they want

I want what they had, I want to be them

And yet, I will never be Jack Kerouac

If for the only reason that I am a woman

I can’t hitch a ride

Without the expectation of a sexual favor

(Or worse)

Finding yourself in roadside diners and highways

And staying with strangers

Is too dangerous and improper

I know, I've tried

“Who knows what could have happened to you?”

“He could have raped you!”

“You could have died!”

But nothing happened and I'm okay

Yet people still berate me for it

Why was no one yelling at Jack?

All This Heartbreak - 9 July 2013

When you’re young

You’re supposed to feel invincible –

Not insignificant.

Yet, I feel so worthless

Just me and my insignificant dreams

I've heard it’s been said that dreams only die

When you stop chasing them

But what happens when you never actually start?

All because others make you doubt

Because they’ve been broken by their own lost dreams

Or are vindictive

They don’t care if they asphyxiate your dreams

And make it all seem so trivial

What a terrible thing to learn so young –

All this heartbreak and insecurity

Untitled For Now - 1 July 2013

Before you go and fall in love

Fall in love with my faults

I’m selfish

I’m a show-off

And I overcompensate for perceived flaws

But just this once

I want my happiness to not be seen as selfishness

My love to not be shown off ostentatiously

Or my laughter to not be seen as overcompensation

Because when I fall in love

I want you to see happiness, love and laughter

Where I see my fatal flaws

Alzheimer's - 13 June 2013

The worst part about getting older isn’t the wrinkles

Or the sagging skin

Or the creaky knees

Or the funny old people smell.

And if I learned one thing,

It's that watching those you love slowly disintegrate

In front of your very eyes

Kills you so much faster than time itself does.

He's dying one memory at a time.

And I’m terrified for the moment when my face

Isn’t one he recognizes anymore.

The worst part about getting older is knowing that my worst fear is inevitable. 

You Can't Name All The Ways In Which You Love Her

You can’t name all the ways in which you love her:

You love her slow when she just rolls out of bed

You love her fast just like her road rage on the interstate

You love her red like her face when she yells all angry

You love her blue when she’s snotty and crying into the covers of your bed

You love her cold because it means her God awful sweaters

You love her hot like the tea she drinks every morning

You love her silly in every picture she takes

You love her serious, bent over textbooks and full of concentration

You love her faraway, lost somewhere in her head

You love her close because it means she’s yours
You just love her all the time.