six tiny gold earrings

six tiny gold earrings

rounded into six glowing spheres

arranged into three rows

sorted into three pairs

refined into sixteen carats

packed into one white box

matching her white teeth that smiled when she opened it.

 

they said

thank you

and we will miss you

and you will do great things.

 

six tiny gold earrings

blinking in the light

like she did on her first day away from home

in a strange bed

in a strange room

in a strange place

but comforted by the fact that money really can buy love

 

six tiny gold earrings

six miniature representations

of the world she left behind

full of people who loved her

so she remembered their love

every time she wore them.

 

her step was that much lighter

her pace was that much tighter

her uniform was that much brighter

whenever she wore those tiny gold earrings.

 

even when she fucked in those

tiny gold earrings

she commanded attention

because they knew she came from a father

who loved his baby enough to send along

six tiny gold earrings.

even when she drank in those

tiny gold earrings

she received pardon

because they knew she came from a family

who cared about her dignity enough to send along

six tiny gold earrings.

 

 

I wanted those goddamn tiny gold earrings.

that’s all.

not her set; my own.

my own

six tiny gold earrings

rounded into golden spheres

arranged into three rows

sorted into three pairs

refined into sixteen carats.

packed into one white box

matching my white toothed-smile when I opened it.

 

I wanted even just one pair.

one pair that said

thank you

and we will miss you

and you will do great things.

 

One pair that said

you aren’t the first,

but you are loved

and valued

and we don’t want you to forget.

 

I wanted to be given

six tiny gold earrings.

 

but I am my own.

 

I bought my own goddamn earrings and hid them in one of the boxes

among everything that went away with me.

and I wore them

on my first day away from home

in a strange bed

in a strange room

in a strange place

but comforted by the fact that money really can buy love

even if it’s only for yourself.

 

and the funny thing is

my step was that much lighter

my pace was that much tighter

my uniform was that much brighter

whenever I wore those tiny gold earrings.

 

no one else had any like mine

and i was proud that I loved myself

and that i could love myself

as if there were nothing else i needed.

 

but then things changed

and my earrings weren’t real, after all.

they weren’t gold

they were only paint

and they chipped away just like me

and they came back just like me

and they weren’t love, not anymore.

 

but I will be gone again soon

and I will be older

and I will be stronger

and I will not need those

six tiny gold earrings.

 

In fact

it was easy to ignore

when a new white box was handed out

and new white teeth smiled when it opened.

it was easy to pretend those six tiny gold earrings didn’t mean

thank you

and we will miss you

and you will do great things.

 

I wanted to snatch them and hurl them across the room.

 

six tiny gold earrings

shining like the praise

I wanted so badly

 

but the funny thing is,

I don’t care anymore,

not really.

I can love myself

and they can love me too

as long as I am far enough away for them to remember.

windfall.

I found out two days ago that I will be leaving for Recruit Training in less than THIRTY DAYS. I am beyond excited.  I can’t even really comprehend that I will be gone to Parris Island, becoming a Marine.  On one hand, I can’t wait, obviously.  On the other hand, I’m having a huge “oh shit” moment about working out and eating right and mentally preparing myself.  I know I’ll be ready; the question is how ready.

Essentially, my plan physically for the next month is to run a semblance of an IST every day. An IST is an Initial Strength Test, and it’s administered to all recruits within the first few days of Receiving on the Island.  It consists of sit-ups, pull-ups (flexed-arm hang for females), and a 1.5 mile run.  My biggest issue is nerves, so I figure by running through it every day I’ll lose the stage fright and it’ll become second nature.

Other than that, I’m studying knowledge (rank structure, General Orders, basic USMC-type info they give us in a little book).  I’m writing myself letters that my sister has promised to send me throughout the process.  I know other people will send me letters, but there’s something kind of, I don’t know, more motivating (?) about sending yourself letters.  You know where you are and you know what you need to push you, and so you’re not going to bullshit yourself.  I’m writing one for every week I’m there, and she’s bringing me one for me to open on graduation (dramatic, I know), so I feel like it’ll be pretty cool.

I don’t know what this means for the blog.  I guess I’ll either keel one way or the other, write a ton before I leave, or forget about it altogether.  As for after…well, we’ll see.  The funny thing is, after three months of no blogging at all, I wonder where I’ll be mentally. I may be like a totally new person; I mean, that is the plan, after all.

Stay tuned, and hopefully this thing’ll play itself out.

Cultural Dynamics: Love and Marriage

Cultural Dynamics: Love and Marriage.

after all that melodrama

My floors are freshly scrubbed, all but one of my library books are read, and my older sister is bringing home her boyfriend for a few days.  I think it would be good for me to focus on feeling fresh.  I won’t force happiness, but I feel that if I focus on feeling accomplished and fresh and optimistic, the kind of happiness I want will work itself in anyhow.

I still need to put fresh sheets on my bed for Ange’s beau, but there’s time. I plan to take a run with our dog, Athena, soon and return my books to the library.  Having things to look forward to is really important. I don’t think I’m clinically depressed, but sometimes it’s hard to pull yourself out of feeling sad if you don’t have a rope.

Anyways, I am now in the mood to wish any lonely souls out there who are reading this blog a Happy New Year, most sincerely, and I guess my New Year’s wish (I don’t like resolutions) is to work towards health and contentment.

I planned to sleep through the New Year.

All I’d miss was Jenny McCarthy smooching some young guy who didn’t know better and observe Ryan Seacrest slowly usurp Dick Clark’s position. Oops, that was a few years ago, wasn’t it? He’s fully instated now, smugly narrating two-thousand-so-and-so’s arrival with aplomb and self-satisfaction.

And why shouldn’t he? I’m younger than he is, far too young to be cynical about his taking over Clark’s position, too young to grump about the New Year and too young to be blogging about it rather than blearily taking in the scene blaring on the television in the next room.  Aren’t I?

I mean, really, is it so wrong to be young and naive and happy and silly? Is it wrong to just fucking enjoy the New Year’s dawning and be thankful for another year? Sometimes I feel like everybody lives inside a goddamn greeting card that I just can’t open.  The holidays bum me out, plain and simple.

My younger sister glitzed herself up, hair, makeup, and dress.  We didn’t go anywhere; she just did it for fun and then put doctored selfies on Facebook with captions like, “gettin ready to kiss 2012 goodbye xoxo” and it made me feel awful.  Like, really depressed. Part of me thought, you should get all dressed up.  You should be excited like we’re having a mini party here at the house.  But I didn’t.  My sister’s been texting her friends and asking them about their plans, mainly because our parents are strict and won’t let her go anywhere for New Year’s.  She likes to live vicariously, I think.  I thought to myself, why haven’t I called up any friends, not even to wish them a Happy New Year?  Why don’t I text someone to see what they’re up to?

But I didn’t do any of that. I read a library book for three hours in sweatpants until I got yanked out to the living room for the thirty second countdown.  We watched the ball drop and my parents kissed and my little brother asked for more sparkling cider because he finished his before the countdown even ended and my sister twirled around and pretended she was still glamorous even though she had abandoned the dress for pajamas because no one was around to see her anyways and my parents keep the house pretty cold to save on heating.

She’s planning to Skype some guy she knows later on tonight. She asked to borrow my laptop and I said sure because it’s not like I’m at school anyways.  I’ll probably soldier on through this book since it’s due back to the library in two days and I hate having to return books I haven’t finished. I would renew it, but I’m renewing Les Miserables and I hate renewing more than one. I guess that’s just a quirk of mine.

Writing about how sad I am on New Year’s Day has me feeling like Holden Caulfield, and I don’t mean to sound put-on, so I’ll leave you to enjoy 2013 (although, I suspect if you’re really reading this a few minutes of hours into the new year, you probably don’t have much to get back to. I know that’s a mean thought, but I figure I can’t be the only one feeling a bit bummy tonight/morning.)

At any rate, I thought I’d be glad they didn’t play “Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot” this year because I think it’s cheesy, but I really don’t think they did, and it feels sad because they didn’t even bother.  Now they have musical guests party-rockin their various stages, and everyone’s moving on.  I really don’t think New Years is anything special.