Yesterday

I hated myself. I hated everything. So. Much.


It hurt to exist, an aching loneliness tore at my heart minute for minute. 


Smells have an interesting relationship with memory and emotion. I pulled a blanket out of a corner that had been there since Jason left Norman in early June. It smelled so much like him that I clung to it and cried hard. I sobbed and wanted to scream. 


Because, even when Jason comes back in August, even when he's here. He won't be /here/. It'll still be this new Jason, the one who is just now learning to deal with his emotions. This is someone else, and they tell me how much I mean to them. But, it still hurts. 


Because, when you get used to something -- a gentle touch, an arm around you, or an assuring kiss on the cheek -- when you begin to rely on it to help keep you grounded, then you sort of just break when it's gone. 


You sort of lose parts of yourself. They crumble to the ground as you walk, because they have no where to go, and what was holding you together isn't working anymore.


You hurt because it has to be this way, and you don't know for how long. 

Not

I am not some beaten down housewife with the alcoholic boyfriend and the cat who sleeps on my feet at night.

I am not abused. And I don't want a cat, even if I do like cats more than dogs.

Today

Today I saw an image I'd never seen,

a girl in the mirror who looked back at me.

I didn't cringe, or quickly walk away.

Her eyes looked like they could sparkle with the right light,

her hair was a pleasant shade of brown.

She looked nice, this girl I could see;

she seemed to be holding herself tall, though I didn't think her too short.

Her face and features framed well by the glasses she wore.

I thought perhaps, her smile would be nice.

So, we shared one for  a moment,

as I continued to assess.

Her skin wasn't perfect,

but I thought,

so what?

She's pretty, I thought.

I frowned when I began to see,

that she had started crying.

But I knew, from the look in her eyes,

it was because she'd just seen,

herself,

for the first time.

That Moment

When a daydream you'd given up on happens. A small fancy of thought becomes.
And when you get to smile, just because. 

Today

I am worth more than many sparrows.

Uses For Tea

I am a self-proclaimed Tea Aficionado after all. After reading a few blogs I was inspired to write about the things I've themed my blog to be about. I love tea (as you guys know), and I like researching it. So, why not record the fruit of that research?

Tea. Camillia Sinensis. 
It's got two forms we see it in most commonly: Green Tea and Black Tea. Of course, these also have sub-branches, and there are other kinds of tea.  (Black Tea, Darjeeling, Oolong, White Tea, Red Tea, etc. Also none Camillia Sinensis teas like Jasmine and fruit or herbal teas). I'll cover these things, in depth, in a later post.


Fun, non drink related, uses for tea:

1) A wet tea bag can reduce the pain of a razor burn.
2) A cold, wet, tea bag can stop bleeding and pain of a lost tooth. (Also helpful to prevent dry socket after wisdom tooth removal).
3) You can put your used tea bags near your plants (like roses) to help nourish them. 
4) You can tea stain printed paper. Looks cool.
5) Increase the speed of decomposition in a composte heap.


There are a lot of uses for tea. I'm an avid believer in the medicinal uses for tea (I'll make another post on that, as well), and just the neat tricks like the ones above you can put them towards.


Home remedies are a must in my book, especially any involving tea. 

The Smell of Watermelon or Grass

If I had known the words to use,
I would've written you a song,
something sweet and just right,
that'd knock you off your feet.


Oh, I'd write it on the wall,
in a dozen notebooks, I'd fill them all.
I would take a moment, look them over, 
then scatter the pages.


Words are everything, it seems,
though simple actions speak much louder.
Who would have thought,
this would be about you and me?
What a broken duet.


Oh, I'd write it on the wall,
in a dozen notebooks (maybe more),
I'd fill them all (front and back, each page),
Look them over, just a moment,
Then rip apart each page.

Please tell me those unspoken phrases,

let me see that feeling in your eyes. 

I would've written you a song, 

would've told you every lie, made everything better,

would've let you know, that I'm hiding everything.

You can have it all now. 

It was yours anyway. 

Broken heart, a hundred pieces on the floor,
Didn't take it well, left everything on the ground. 
I'm nothing but a voice without ability.
A charity case without destination. 

Oh, I'd write it on the wall,

in a dozen notebooks, I'd fill them all.