lack of sleep and i sometimes can be friends.
but the days after that lack of sleep, well, they are not my friends.
i slept in today, with the intentions of going to school late, but suddenly my eye has become very watery and irrupted and i fear this could be the consequence of having sensitive eyes and wearing so much make up. but after all it was prom! they always say beauty is pain. i thought that was during though, not after.
but now i'm off to run errands like grocery shopping and later pick up my brothers from school like the little mother i am.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
things.
it's prom day, and after tomorrow, things are about to get super hectic.
i've got senior awards monday, a dinner tuesday night, final choir performance wednesday night, broadway play thursday night, finals on friday, mum's birthday saturday, volunteering sunday, memorial day monday, dad's birthday tuesday + finals, nothing wednesday, and graduation thursday. oh, and all my normal babysitting on top of that.
it's all going to end in a blur. high school has been good to me, though i've not been so very fond of it, but it's prepared me to face all different kinds of people in my life and given me the courage to be confident and know who i am regardless of whatever angles others see me from.
but here's to life, really beginning.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
sometimes i write.
It was a quiet winter day. Fresh snow had fallen. The only thing interrupting the peace was Mama’s suicide.
She had painted me a flower the day before and signed it, ‘a rose by Rosalie’. My name was painted across the top of the paper. Daddy had helped me hang it on my wall.
After watching the snow outside my window I had gone to say goodmorning to Mama in her bed. She said Goodmorning darling Clara and asked if I could make her some soup. She said she was feeling badly and that she was going to run a bath. She asked me to leave the soup in the kitchen and let her have a little peace. I said okay and she smiled and said I love you Clara. I said I love you too Mama and left her alone with a peck on the cheek.
I found her.
I didn’t even call out to Daddy for five minutes or so. Actually I never said anything to him. He knew when I dropped the bowl. Daddy had helped me make soup, and he said to take it to her anyways.
I opened the door with my foot.
She was already dead.
She still had her nightgown on. It was sweet and white, but the water had stuck it to her body like a second skin. Her arm hung over the side of the tub while the blood leaked out of the vein in her wrist.
The tub was still running. A small pool of crimson liquid had formed on the floor. I stared at her face. Her long black eyelashes touched her delicate cheeks, the rosy pink gone from them. Her dull pink lips were barely parted. Her hair, the same color as mine, flowed in waves of soft curls down just past her shoulders.
I moved my gaze to the drops of blood rolling off her index and middle fingers. They rolled slower now, down her soft hand over her thin fingers just touching her perfectly trimmed nails before plunging to the floor. I watched at least ten slow drops fall before moving.
Then I ran to Daddy. Out the door and into their bedroom, soup sloshed and burned my hand. Through the foyer the bowl flew from my hands and sailed into the marble floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.
Daddy came quickly. His brown eyes filled with worry as a tear slipped from my eyes and a sob escaped my dry throat.
“Clara?” He said desperately, but I didn’t move, and he ran to the bathroom.
Mama was seven months pregnant that day
She had painted me a flower the day before and signed it, ‘a rose by Rosalie’. My name was painted across the top of the paper. Daddy had helped me hang it on my wall.
After watching the snow outside my window I had gone to say goodmorning to Mama in her bed. She said Goodmorning darling Clara and asked if I could make her some soup. She said she was feeling badly and that she was going to run a bath. She asked me to leave the soup in the kitchen and let her have a little peace. I said okay and she smiled and said I love you Clara. I said I love you too Mama and left her alone with a peck on the cheek.
I found her.
I didn’t even call out to Daddy for five minutes or so. Actually I never said anything to him. He knew when I dropped the bowl. Daddy had helped me make soup, and he said to take it to her anyways.
I opened the door with my foot.
She was already dead.
She still had her nightgown on. It was sweet and white, but the water had stuck it to her body like a second skin. Her arm hung over the side of the tub while the blood leaked out of the vein in her wrist.
The tub was still running. A small pool of crimson liquid had formed on the floor. I stared at her face. Her long black eyelashes touched her delicate cheeks, the rosy pink gone from them. Her dull pink lips were barely parted. Her hair, the same color as mine, flowed in waves of soft curls down just past her shoulders.
I moved my gaze to the drops of blood rolling off her index and middle fingers. They rolled slower now, down her soft hand over her thin fingers just touching her perfectly trimmed nails before plunging to the floor. I watched at least ten slow drops fall before moving.
Then I ran to Daddy. Out the door and into their bedroom, soup sloshed and burned my hand. Through the foyer the bowl flew from my hands and sailed into the marble floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.
Daddy came quickly. His brown eyes filled with worry as a tear slipped from my eyes and a sob escaped my dry throat.
“Clara?” He said desperately, but I didn’t move, and he ran to the bathroom.
Mama was seven months pregnant that day
promises, promises
i want to apologize for my absence, but i have no one to apologize too.
there are often times were i wish i wrote everything down, and did this daily.
but the truth of the matter is, some days i feel like writing and some days i don't.
it is just that simple.
the same go with my outfit posts. sometimes i can muster up the effort to take a picture and sometimes i just lack the inspiration to arrange my outfits nicely.
i got a car this weekend. a gorgeous cream mini cooper that is so undeserved. my parents are the absolute best at surprises i love them dearly.
there's a lot of money being spent at the moment, i know i'll have to work quite hard to make it all up but for the meantime it's worth it.
pictures of things soon.
xo
b
there are often times were i wish i wrote everything down, and did this daily.
but the truth of the matter is, some days i feel like writing and some days i don't.
it is just that simple.
the same go with my outfit posts. sometimes i can muster up the effort to take a picture and sometimes i just lack the inspiration to arrange my outfits nicely.
i got a car this weekend. a gorgeous cream mini cooper that is so undeserved. my parents are the absolute best at surprises i love them dearly.
there's a lot of money being spent at the moment, i know i'll have to work quite hard to make it all up but for the meantime it's worth it.
pictures of things soon.
xo
b
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
a letter to dad.
my dad came into my room this morning. in-between alarms.
he sat on the edge of my bed, i laughed and then he laid down next to me all goofy like. he used to do this when i was a child, that or pretend to sumo-jump on me and i'd pretend i was squished.
"do you remember when you were a little girl and i used to have to sit with you and tell you stories?"
"and then i learned half of them weren't true because you were so tired you made anything up."
i closed my eyes again because it was 6:30 am and i had ten more minutes before the next alarm went off and i really had to get up.
i don't remember what he said after that, but he held my hand a moment and laughed when i answered his question with an "hmmph" because i was so tired.
i don't know if this is all because i turn 18 on saturday, and in a few short months i will venture off to another country, to live for 3 years. i don't know if this is because he knows what a wanderer i am, and this marks the point of never returning to what we've come to know as 'home' ever again. i think he knows my home is the sky, riverbeds, secluded shores, trails in shallow forests, a cottage on a lake, and apartment in the city, my home lies in midnight's stars.
i think he knows all that; he's my dad.
i've been thinking a lot lately, about the fights i will one day have with my love, about how we will raise our children, about what kind of director i will be, if people will always think of me as kind, if i will turn into the superwoman my mother has always been, if i will see as many cultures as i've always longed to. some of them are big things, some little.
but one thing will always remain true, my dad has and will always be my favorite person in the world. nothing could ever break that. and i will always be,
his little girl, no matter my height.
love always,
billie jane.
he sat on the edge of my bed, i laughed and then he laid down next to me all goofy like. he used to do this when i was a child, that or pretend to sumo-jump on me and i'd pretend i was squished.
"do you remember when you were a little girl and i used to have to sit with you and tell you stories?"
"and then i learned half of them weren't true because you were so tired you made anything up."
i closed my eyes again because it was 6:30 am and i had ten more minutes before the next alarm went off and i really had to get up.
i don't remember what he said after that, but he held my hand a moment and laughed when i answered his question with an "hmmph" because i was so tired.
i don't know if this is all because i turn 18 on saturday, and in a few short months i will venture off to another country, to live for 3 years. i don't know if this is because he knows what a wanderer i am, and this marks the point of never returning to what we've come to know as 'home' ever again. i think he knows my home is the sky, riverbeds, secluded shores, trails in shallow forests, a cottage on a lake, and apartment in the city, my home lies in midnight's stars.
i think he knows all that; he's my dad.
i've been thinking a lot lately, about the fights i will one day have with my love, about how we will raise our children, about what kind of director i will be, if people will always think of me as kind, if i will turn into the superwoman my mother has always been, if i will see as many cultures as i've always longed to. some of them are big things, some little.
but one thing will always remain true, my dad has and will always be my favorite person in the world. nothing could ever break that. and i will always be,
his little girl, no matter my height.
love always,
billie jane.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
moonlit sighs.
i went beach camping this weekend with friends.
we watched a train pass and then ran on the tracks to feel the heat of steel on steel.
we danced in the sand and splashed in the waves, and last night sat under the super moon.
the beach is not all that special, though i adore the trail up and around the bluff. and being on live train tracks is always thrilling.
i wish i no one got cranky and tired as the days wore out.
i only have a few pink spots, i got lucky this time.
as soon as i arrived home, i rushed off to the set of a friends movie. the director is another friend of mine's dad, and he let me sit in his chair. their whole family is so sweet and i really love the film. she's letting me go back on location another day this week and it all just makes me so happy because one day it will be mine and i will get to live it everyday and be around it all.
is it silly to be so enthralled in something so soon?
please let school end, i am sick of your assignments that aren't worth anything. the end of the year is purely busy work, is it not?
sweet dreams my love,
b.
we watched a train pass and then ran on the tracks to feel the heat of steel on steel.
we danced in the sand and splashed in the waves, and last night sat under the super moon.
the beach is not all that special, though i adore the trail up and around the bluff. and being on live train tracks is always thrilling.
i wish i no one got cranky and tired as the days wore out.
i only have a few pink spots, i got lucky this time.
as soon as i arrived home, i rushed off to the set of a friends movie. the director is another friend of mine's dad, and he let me sit in his chair. their whole family is so sweet and i really love the film. she's letting me go back on location another day this week and it all just makes me so happy because one day it will be mine and i will get to live it everyday and be around it all.
is it silly to be so enthralled in something so soon?
please let school end, i am sick of your assignments that aren't worth anything. the end of the year is purely busy work, is it not?
sweet dreams my love,
b.
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