Someone call a plumber. We have a leak!

Haha. I'm clever.

Anyway:

Orphanarium

Case Number: 9601481
Author(s): Undetermined
Name: Not Assigned
Age: Not Assigned
Birthplace: Not Assigned
Genre: Undetermined

There’s no telling how long we’ve been here, in this place. I don’t know much about myself, but I do know I hate this place with every fiber of my being (whatever that being consists of). The main complex is falling apart. There are tiles missing from both the ceiling and the floor. The staff has attempted to cover these disgraces by doing what they can like hanging pieces of artwork over the cracks in the wall but even those are unfinished. Like so many of us.

Case Number: 2742408
Author(s): Undetermined
Name: Kim
Age: “high school”
Birthplace: Tulsa, Oklahoma
Genre: Young Adult

Another boring, boring day. This place is so sad. Nobody enjoys themselves. There’s no parties or dances or anything fun to do. Most of the others just sit around in their rooms and pout all day. I’m so glad my author was better than that. I have a personality. I have a name. I’m one of the lucky ones. The longer I stay here, I know just how lucky I am.

____

In case you can't tell by the layout changes and the multiple posts, I'm busy busy writing and blogging. Who knew boredom is the best inspiration?

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

I refuse to write about the first day of school

Sorry to disappoint anyone. But although today is, in fact, the first day of a shiny new semester, the familarity of this semester outweighs any excitement I may have about starting again.

I will admit a few things have changed since last semester: I drove myself to school for the first time in a car that's completely mine. Yay! Both traffic and parking were a bitch though. I thought showing up an hour early would ensure at least a decent spot but I was sadly mistaken and ended up parking across the street from campus. Which means I'm not living on campus this go round either. In ways I miss living on campus (the simplicity, the ease of travel, not to mention the shortcuts that are impossible to take in a car... at least legally). Also, because my sister lives so far away, I have to be absolutely certain I don't forget anything. There will be no running back to my room real quick to grab something now. Sigh.

Also, I've only met 3 of my teachers today. One of which I had last semester so there was nothing special about that. The other was in a class of about 380 students so not much interaction there either. I am interested to see what my third professor's class will bring... She's like a mix of Mrs. Goodaker and Ellen. So maybe I'll blog about her class sometime later in the semester. But not today.

Today, I refuse to write about the first day of school.

.:~o*'Isianya'*o~:.

Inspired Inklings

You know, I had originally planned to frame this in a story. To mask my thoughts with quotes and narrative so that I could distance myself from this and its critique. But you know what? I'm tired of hiding. Part of being a writer (I think, at least) is knowing when to step back and write just for yourself sometimes. So here it is: a completely raw, honest look inside my head as I see it:

How do you know you're in love with a man?

You know you're in love with a man when you find yourself laying beside him, gently running your fingers through his hair watching as each strand folds under the pressure of your hand and springs back up again, poised and ready to be petted again; and you smile because you realize what a great head of hair he has and wishes he didn't cut it as often so you could appreciate moments like this all the time.

You know you're in love with a man when you begin to move your hand down to his face; carefully outlining his lips with your thumb, feeling the soft brush of his mouth against your finger and you sigh because you realize how gentle his kisses can be when placed upon your forehead, yet fiery and passionate when planted on your lips.

You know you're in love with a man your hand begins to turn and your palm scrapes against his chin and jawline; feeling the stubble he hasn't shaved yet because you surprised him by coming over so early (though you would have called ahead of time so he could properly prepare but you just wanted to see him so badly, you rushed right over without a second thought) and you realize he's perfect just as he is still in the t-shirt he wore yesterday and with bedhead.

You know you're in love with a man when he begins to stir from all your touches; when he smiles without opening his eyes and sighs, "Hey honey"; when he outstretches his arms to beckon you closer and you realize in his arms is exactly where you want to be.

You know you're in love with a man when you place yourself beside him so that your curves contour to his shape and he takes you in his arms and pulls you closer; and you realize your heart is beating faster.

You know you're in love with a man when he begins to slide his hands under your shirt, one over your bellybutton and the other rests on your chest, and you realize it doesn't matter whether you're sleeping in a big bed or on an old futon: this is the best position to fall asleep in.

You know you're in love with a man when you begin to drift to sleep yourself; when walls of the apartment fade away with each breath and you realize there is only one breath in the entire room: the two of you, together.

You know you're in love with a man when the rise and fall of his chest against your back in time with yours is like a gentle lullaby and the warm breath on your neck like a soft blanket enveloping you in security; and you realize this is how you wish to fall asleep every night for the rest of your life.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.