New Beginnings

Ok, so I'm not the best blogger in the world.  Alright, so I'm not the best at keeping up with anything like that, from a pen pal, to a diary. I love to write, just not every day.  However, I'm finding myself really needing to get my words out somehow, some way. That is where you, my dear reader, come in.  So, I've brought new life to an old blog, hopefully, and maybe this time will be different-maybe I can become more regular.  (Ok, that sounds like an Activia audition, no?) 

So to re-cap quickly, this page is called Exit 119, because I saw a picture of an exit sign that read: "EXIT 119   No Name     1/2 MILE".  This blog has no known destination, and no idea what the next 1/2 mile hold in store.  And that's okay. Maybe someday, I can visit the place called No Name.  I'll bet it's the most interesting place, with an oxymoronic sense of identity there.  Until then, I'll slog through the common proper noun towns who think they're somebodies, with their people who all have to be so individual, that uniqueness is no longer unique.  I'm hoping to pull off onto Exit 119 someday, set up my VW camper, and watch the unique people and places trudge on, man. 

Even wallflowers are beautiful.

Spatzi78

Row, Row, Row Your Boat... Thursday, February 10, 2011

I'm so excited! I ordered a rowing machine online, and it came earlier than I was expecting it to! I had been looking forward to this for awhile now. The last time I used a rowing machine was in high school, when we would go to the local YMCA during gym classes. The girls and boys were divided into seperate groups, and during the winter months, we would take the school's bus to the YMCA. One group would get the gym, where the basketball court was, and the other group would get the workout gym, and we would switch off between the two. Anyway, it was one of those older models with the T-bar. I loved that thing-that was one of the only things that kept me faking an illness every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon! Well, that, and the fact that I loved being in the gymnasium, and could never remember when we were going to be where! Haha!
The model I received is set up more like you're actually rowing a boat, which after I got in the rhythm, I really enjoy, even more so than that old T-bar model. I've only had it a few days, so I haven't used it much yet, but so far I love it! The only thing was that I had to assemble it, and while I was reading the instructions, it kept stressing that if something is missing, to contact the company right away. I was so stressed that I wouldn't have all the parts, and would have to wait several more weeks to use the thing! Luckily though, the only thing missing was a couple bolts to hold the monitor in place, but no biggie, you can get bolts at any self-respecting hardware store.
This is the first piece of exercise equipment to grace the likes of my kitchen floor, so I'm really, really anxious t osee how ti turns out! I'm seeing my Jeffrey in May, and would love to lose some pounds before then, and my sister's getting married in May as well, so I'd love to rock that bridesmaid's dress as best I can! Well, I just wanted to share my excitement-I need to get back to rowing! I'm pretending that I'm crossing the Black Sea in a rowboat! :-)~

Rowing gently through life with you,
Spatzi78

Can't believe it. On second thought...I can. Monday, February 7, 2011

Wow. There's some weird ice skating thing on television right now. The things you watch when you can't sleep, right?! I hadn't realized how long it had been since I'd been on here, let alone blogged anything! I feel like I should be returning with some pieces of valuable wisdom for you. Hmmm...the only thing that comes to mind at the time is this: in church this morning, a man told me he had been in Wyoming, where it was like -40 degrees. The day it actually was zero degrees, it felt warm, of course! That would be like a heat wave! So my advice is this: always be thankful for what you have, no matter the situation. It can always be worse, and there is probably at least one person who has gone through the same thing you have, so make the most of it, and remember that there are others out there who have it worse than you. That's all I can think of at the moment. Oh, just one more phrase of wisdom that comes to mind: Wear Sunscreen.

Humbly Yours,
Spatzi78

Help! Tuesday, January 12, 2010

My hunni and I are trying to get married, asap. Thing is, is that we would have to do it by proxy, because he is not able to attend at the moment. That's fine, except that I'm having trouble finding a place to do it. Any ideas?

Anxiously yours,
Spatzi78

Jools-Jails and Zoos Thursday, September 17, 2009

"Jails and prisons are designed to break human beings, to convert the population into specimens in a zoo-obedient to our keepers, but dangerous to each other."
~Angela Davis, 1974~

Interesting theory. And it's sad, but it's true. They put you in a cage and punish you if you don't follow their rules. They ridicule you, and humiliate you whenever possible. Then, when they finally release you, it's as if they put one of those plastic tracking devices in your ear...like they do to bears. Except you're still expected to check in every so often. The person becomes obedient to authority, if for no other reason than because he's afraid of being put back in the cage again. Maybe they're afraid of what they'll do if they have to endure being degraded again. They are finally released back into society, and, like a racoon, you lumber off into your habitat nervously, unsure of where you're going from here. You eventually run into the distance, happy to be free, but moving at a fast enough pace that they wouldn't be able to catch you if they suddenly changed their minds. It's all a big system, as vicious as nature's food chain, and, in some cases, just as necessary. But keep in mind that not all cases are the same, and if you get nothing else from this blog, remember that not everyone deserves to be a part of the system. Remember that for me, please.

Spatzi78

New Story: "Without You" Monday, September 14, 2009

Please send me constructive criticism! ~>

Without You

It was dark in the room, the only light coming from the moon shining through the Venetian blinds that hung on the large oval window at the far end of the room. The light barely reached the figure of a young woman sitting on the dark hardwood floor in front of the soft blue sofa. There was a half-emptied thick glass of cold fire just hidden in her distorted jagged shadow that stretched across the floor like a peaceful cat, soaking up midnight sunshine. She had what looked like volumes of papers scattered out around her, in front of her, and on the couch behind her. Amongst the papers were photographs and pictures, some drawings in pencil, others taken with cameras. A medium sized wooden box with hand carved details rested sullenly at her feet, almost completely emptied of its contents. A lock of the woman’s soft wavy strawberry brown hair fell in front of one of her eyes as she looked at one particular picture, a small picture she held in her slender fingers. It’s edges were dog-eared and worn; signs of many days spent in a purse or pocket before being securely placed at the very top of the contents of the ornate box. A drop of liquid glass formed on her porcelain cheek as she looked down with a faraway look in her watery eyes. As the teardrop turned to quicksilver, she was suddenly swept away to a better time, and as the teardrop fell on the dust of a thousand stars, a downfall overtook her and she was back to that day. Rain cried down around her as she stood alone, weeping along with the angels as she looked down at the cold smooth stone that stood in front of her. The deep red rose that she had picked out especially for this occasion because it’s red was so deep, like the deep love she felt in her heart, hung from her hand, held tightly. Her finger held a ring. It was a diamond, not a big one, mind you, but she hadn’t wanted a big stone, he knew that, just as he had known everything about her, sometimes even without her having to tell him. That was part of what made him so special to her, he had this sixth sense about him, that made him able to tell exactly what she was going to say before she could voice it, knowing what she needed without her having to tell him.
She was suddenly angry with him. Why did he have to leave her all alone? Didn’t he, the one who knew everything about her, didn’t he know that this would break her heart?
I can’t blame him, she thought. He didn’t want this any more than I did.
She knelt down on the saturated grass, turning the knees of her light blue jeans into dark, dirty circles as the water soaked through to her skin. She leaned slightly forward, placing the rose against the silver metal, a glassy pool of water immediately forming around its velvet soft petals, shiny droplets also falling on the inside petals, making it seem as though the rose itself even felt the pain of this day. The woman read the words “Ich werde mich an Sie erinnern.” aloud as the flower left her pale fingertips. Shuddering as she actually started to feel the cold chill of the rain, she repeated the words in English that she had said, and heard whispered back to her so many times before, “I’ll remember you.” It was a fitting epitaph; taken from their song, one of several, it was one of the short effectual phrases that had gotten them though some tough times in their relationship, when the only thing they had was each other. They were sometimes the only thing that kept her going during the lonely endless nights while he was away. They were words that may just have seemed haphazardly chosen and common to the others that had been to visit recently, but they were allowed to think what they wanted. Most didn’t even know what the inscription said, because of the language she chose. Actually, that he had chosen. It had been sort of their secret language, that special bond between them coming even closer when they communicated using it, since the chances that someone else knew what they were saying was rare in that area. Unfortunately, the magic that it brought between them couldn’t bring him back, so she had chose the phrase as a parting statement to let him know that if he was watching, she wouldn’t forget, she could never forget, and that she’d be joining him someday. She enjoyed talking in song fragments. It made people wonder about her and kept them guessing at what she was really trying to say.
She closed her eyes that day, listening for his comforting words in her heart amongst the pitter patter of the raindrops on the soft ground and cold chunks of polished stone. But instead of the soft, strong voice she longed so much to hear, she only heard the silence of lonliness as it came crashing around her. Her eyes snapped open again, filled with the remnants of pooled water, and she found herself back in the darkness of the room, truly alone in the dark world. It had been a full week and a half since he’d been gone, and although she didn’t think the stream of visitors would ever end, it seems that the only time everyone shows up to a party is when you’re dead, she’s thought, instinctively scolding herself immediately afterwards for using that harsh term in association to him. But the stream of last friends and family had finally slowed to a trickle before drying up with the last of them leaving just late this afternoon, with a hug and saying the ever popular phrase, call me if you need anything, sounding that as if she called, they would all come running back to take care of her. Just what I need, she thought as she took a long drink of the stiff elixir, a bunch of folks around who don’t know me and still think they know whats best. He knew what was best. He always did, whether it was the best way to travel from there to his sisters house in suburbian Philadelphia, or the right way to build a fire without it going out on a camping trip. Yes he always knew, from the right words to make eyes glisten with tears, or the right spices to make her think shed taken a bite out of heaven. In fact, he would have told her not to bring that bottle of hellfire into the darkness with her. It would only bring her down more, he’d say, and its no fun drinking by yourself. Besides, it always made her deathly ill , especially the liquid in this particular bottle, because she always drank too much of it, and it made her heart rate drop immensely. But she didn’t care. This was the first time she’d been alone since hed been gone, and yet, oddly enough, shed felt alone for much longer than that. She took another swallow from the heavy glass, cursing as she spilled a little on the thin heather gray sweater that she wore hung low, her shoulders sticking out, leaving her neck exposed, the way hed always liked her to wear it, so he could come up behind her and kiss her neck without getting lint in his mustasch, hed say, or just so he could gaze upon her smooth silky skin as shed dance around the room, reinacting the highlights of her day, in just the sweater and a pair of tight black leggings. Lucky its clear, she spoke aloud to the darkness, “hed have a hernia if hed thought id stained his favorite sweater.”
The old clock in the hall ticked steadily. No, it couldn’t be the clock, she recalled, because the battery had gone and died the day after he had. You used that word again, she scornfully thought as she tried to figure what the noise might be. The rain. There had been an ongoing storm in the dark night, and it was just now slowing resembling soft kisses instead of the harsh beating downpour that was happening when she had first settled down (made camp) in the room. It was always raining, she thought. It had been raining the first day she saw him, the last day she saw him, and it was raining now. No matter. It can’t possibly rain forever.
It was almost time. She’d have to hurry if she wanted to make her appointment. Hed be upset if she was late. Years of military experience had taught him punctuality, and even though he didn’t often voice it, she knew that it annoyed him when she was late, or made him late. After taking a very long drink from the glass, she started retrieving the scattered papers, fighting back the urge to sit back odwn and read those loving words all over again. That wont help anything now, she said aloud to the shadow of herself who was also picking up papers, its love letters written in shadow talk of course, and besides that, im on a schedule. She placed the thick stack back in its place in the handcarved box, amongst the numerous photographs and illustrations, keeping the dog-eared photo on the stand beside the couch while she shut the lid on the box tightly. She then crossed the room to the high bookshelves that were built into the wall around the large oval window with the Venetian blinds. Placing the box on the highest shelf, she made her way back to the couch surprisingly easily across the darkened room with the odd agility of someone with night goggles. This was only attributed to the fact that she hadn’t rearrainged the furniture sincd before Christmas, otherwise, she’d have tripped. She could trip over a speck of dust, hed comment. She took a last drink of the alcohol, draining the bottle, then slid it onto the cool smooth countertop before laying down on the sofe, stretching out on her back with the picture in her hand lying over her heart.

It was dark in the room, the only light shining in through the Venetian blinds that hung over the large oval window window at the far end of the room. Moonlight shone through the cracks, sending shadows over the room, and just reaching the hand of a young woman who lie supposedly sleeping on the couch, leftover alcohol bottle joining the other two that occupied the countertop already, her strawberry-brown hair cascading softly over the side of the cushion. In her hand she held an old photograph, dogeared on the corners and worn from many episodes of being carried in a handbag or carried in a book. The photograph, taken several years ago, was of the young woman standing beside a man, his arm draped gently around her waist and a smile the size of the sun on his face. They were on a beach, and someone had drawn a heart in the sand, the waves just missing the edge of it as they lapped the shore. Scrawled across the back of the picture in a mans handwriting were the words, “seems like just yesterday, walking hand in hand, love letters in the sand, I remember you…”
The rain was slowing down even more now; in fact, it was only just sprinkling. The last drop of it formed at the corner of her closed eye; it rolled silently down her porcelain cheek and turned to quicksilver, following her soul as it dripped onto the dust of stars.
THE END

Richter's Love Monday, September 14, 2009

Love one human being purely and warmly, and you will love all. The heart in this heaven, like the sun in its course, sees nothing, from the dewdrop to the ocean, but a mirror which it brightens, and warms, and fills.
~Richter

Ain't that the truth. Baby when I think of your love, I feel as though my heart may burst from being too full. When I think of your touch, my skin gets warmer than being at the beach on a hot summer's day, and it reaches deep down into my soul. When I think of your eyes when you look at me, the world stops, and youre the only thing I see-it's just so hard to describe, but so clear in my mind, and I know you know what I mean. When I think of your kiss, I think of being lost in your warmth, that sensationally secure feeling be being wrapped up in your arms, while you pour your love into my soul, rendering me breathless. Baby, when I think of you...I feel the truest form of love.
I love you, Jeff, and miss you madly. I can't wait to have you back home to me again!