January 28, 2013

Tonight I kept thinking of this poem even though I can't remember the last time I went running.


                                                   I gave God until February.
                                       He told me it might take a little longer.
                                  I didn’t ask why—only told him I couldn’t wait.
           
A girl told me once that when she runs her skin is silk.
A girl told me once that running makes her fly. 
A girl told me once that running is like praying—it’s survival.

 Some days I think I can’t survive without numb cold ice.
 Some days I think I’ll buckle like a downhill train.
Some days I think I’m running in the nighttime thunder.
      Can’t see me cry. 

Shudder in a flurry like a burnt-out leaf.
But can’t run faster than he does.
Barefoot on the grass my feet get cold.
      I think it’s October.
The best run ever April.
I remember stiff, stiff creaking and a little sway leftward.

I want to lace up my shoes and run like I’m April.
Run like I’m silk.
Run like I fly.
Run like I pray.
Run like I’m praying in my flying silk skin.
Laced up sneakers on the thunder-trodden pavement.
Can’t see me cry.  I don’t cry.
I run.

-01/06

January 23, 2013

No more Harry Potter Jokes, I'm Sirius.

I stole that line from a YouTube video commentary. 
I'm sorry I didn't make it up myself, but in all seriousness...

Has anyone else noticed how much Ed Sheeran looks like Ronald Weasly
Oh wait, that's because it is Ronald Weasly. 

January 16, 2013

Flirt with a Boy

Sometimes when you pick a cute boy to flirt with, it's good if he's talking to someone else too. That way you can just jump right into the conversation without making your intentions known. But you have to be careful because sometimes the other person is telling a story that takes forever to finish. And then at about two minutes to forever, the cute boy's girlfriend walks up...

and then you have to spend forever plus five minutes in the conversation because you now have to pretend you are just as interested in everything about cute boy's girlfriend as you were in everything about cute boy, because, please, it's not like you were flirting, you're just friendly.

Hypothetically, of course. 

January 12, 2013

Grammar Rules, According to Liz


CAPITAL LETTERS MEAN YOU ARE YELLING
exclamation points should be used sparingly!
and question marks mean you are asking a question or making a suggestion.
Right?

January 11, 2013

Song for a Wintery Drive

Dear Hipsters,
Thanks for liking The Civil Wars like 3 years ago before they were cool so the rest of us can like them now. 
Love,
Liz

January 9, 2013

Things that are Funny and why I don't love Rom Com's (Part 1)

From a Goodreads review of Interview with The Vampire: "I hate Anne Rice's writing so much that if it and I were in a romantic comedy together we'd be destined to fall in love and be married by the end of the movie." -Gus 

January 7, 2013

You Know You're a Nurse When (part 11)

You voice text yourself a reminder, "prescribe prednisone," but your phone autocorrects it to "seaside pregnant zone."

Gotta watch out for those seaside pregnant zones.

January 6, 2013

Lent

Call me crazy, but I wish we did Lent.
Lent is a six week ritual beginning on Ash Wednesday and ending on Black Saturday (the day after Good Friday and before Easter Sunday). As I interpret Lent, It gives us the chance to give up something: a vice, a bad habit, something that is holding us back from who we want to become. This is done safely, carefully, with the knowledge that if we want to pick it up again on Easter, we're allowed to do so.

But the funny thing is, once you've done something for six weeks, it's practically a habit. Last year I swore off calling myself fat and after six weeks of that, I thought, why would I ever go back to the way it was before? 

And so I ask, what would you give up for Lenten fast?
What would you do to be better by March 30th than you are today?



January 3, 2013

without clutching


I was thinking of this poem all day today. Luckily, Ashley showed it to me during that part of my life where I hand-wrote all the poems I love into my journal. Maybe Ashley didn't write it and someone named Devyn did, but we'll probably never know for sure. 

January 2, 2013

My Own Bed

Dear My Bed,
It was so nice to see you in all your navy, white, and yellow glory yesterday. You're the best at helping me sleep sleep sleep. I do have one request: tonight can I just not dream about dating an escaped convict? It's just a thought.
Love,
Your tossing and turning pal.