NaBloPoMo: Shall I compare thee to a summer squash..?

Prompt: Name five things inside your refrigerator right now and how you feel about them.

It was only a matter of time until I got to a silly prompt. I like to express my love (and hate) for things in haiku form.

Oh my god, it’s true –
I always forget that you’re
alive, and that’s gross

Yum, quesadilla.
Full of melted cheese and meat.
Leftovers, for lunch.

Big, purple, juicy
You are just baby raisins,
awaiting your fate.

Yes, I’ve opened you.
My reward for hard work, but
The week is still young.

Moo, Moo, Moo, Moo, Moo
But wait, you’re made from almonds!
My life is a lie..


I never said I was a poet… 


NaBloPoMo: Hoot Hoot

Prompt: Are you a morning person or a night owl?


I try so hard to be a morning person. I wake up at seven AM. I roll out of bed and groggily make a cup of coffee. Half the time I leave the house without it. I push through the whole day thinking “If I just make it to nine PM, I can go to bed early and tomorrow will be easier.” 

The early afternoon, I hit my stride. It was a rough morning, but I can do this! I get things accomplished. I do school work, read, write, and generally enjoy life. 

Then, its six or seven. I finally get home. I make dinner and feel wide awake. The hours of the day that were so tough and made me just want to cry melt away. It’s as if I had slept in as late as my body wanted me to. I feel as though I barely did anything for the past eleven hours. 

I play music, I dance around. Sometimes I go out, sometimes I stay in. I read or sing or do nothing at all. But I do it with the more energy than coffee can ever provide. This is how I know I’m a night owl.

Everyone who says “There’s no such thing as morning people. You just need to get on a schedule.” don’t know. I could be on a schedule, but that schedule needs to include embracing the fact that my most productive hours fall in between 4 PM and 1 AM. And I’m ok with that. 

By far, the best schedule I’ve ever nailed down went something like this:
6 AM – wake up, hate life a little bit
6:30 AM – walk out the door, mumble my coffee order at Starbucks, feel a little more human.
7 AM – get to work, love every second of it.
4 PM – leave work, exhausted.
4:30 PM – go to the gym, immediately regret the decision.
5:30 PM – eat dinner, take a nap.
7:30ish PM – wake up, shower, get dressed.
9 PM – go to quizzo.
1:30 AM – go home, sleep

May I suggest it? It really works, I swear. I got 6-8 hours of sleep a day, just not all at once. I woke up at 6:30 by my own accord on the weekends. I was productive. Then, grad school happened. 

NaBloPoMo: My favorite hour..

Prompt: What’s your favorite hour of the day?
(No shame in using prompts, right?)

My favorite hour of the day is definitely not early in the morning. 
It’s not late in the morning either.
Lunch time has some good contenders, but only because there’s usually food involved.

But that hour in the evening, when I’ve had time to finish up my work (or hit my wall for the day). I’m comfy on the couch (or the porch when its warm), with a cup of tea and a song playing. On the weekends, its the time before we go out. During the week, its the time to wind down for bed.

The perfect hour. 

NaBloPoMo: I’m in love with a shooting star…

Every now and then I hear a song and it reminds me of something. No, not one of those sappy moments when the song brings back a memory of good times or bad times or lovers or friends. It’s always a song I’ve seen performed live and it always brings me back to that feeling of just being there. To some of you, it sounds silly (dumb, even), but hear me out (and for everyone who’s with me, get ready for the feels):

Live music isn’t like anything else you can experience. And it’s not about the candidness or the sincerity of the performance (although that doesn’t hurt). It’s not about the difference in music quality. For goodness sakes, I heard a song that Deadmau5 “played” while doing nothing more than standing on stage. If I just barely closed my eyes, I could see every person in that crowd and feel the lights on my skin. I could breathe the summer air and feel my heart pound with every beat. It still brought me to that place.

That place where everyone is happy just because they’re here. That place where everyone is your friend, even your worst enemy. Where there is this sense of community, of connection. Of knowing that, even if just for a few short (and possibly sweaty) hours, you are exactly where you need to be with exactly everyone you need to be with. There’s a swell of love in your heart, and a kaleidoscope* of butterflies flitting around from your stomach to your throat.

And suddenly, after hours or days, it’s gone.

But, one day you hear that song and you’re back. The butterflies come rushing to you again, and you feel the swell of happiness that only that moment could bring. Then, you look around and realize where you are. That doesn’t stop the good feelings, the memories, the happiness, but it does tug on you in an uncomfortable way. It makes you homesick for a place you never truly lived but could definitely call home. It’s not bittersweet, it’s not melancholy, it’s just a feeling. It makes you happy and sad and every variation in between.

And there’s no emoticon for that.

But, I’d bet you a million dollars, there’s a song for it.


(*yep, had to look up what a group of butterflies was called.. and yes, that’s really it. )

NaBloPoMo: Why I don’t feel bad.

I almost felt really bad for not writing a killer post today, with all my free time. 

But I read today, for the first time since god himself knows when, I read for pleasure.

So everyone go out a grab yourself a good book (my recommendation is This is How You Die because there are short stories so its easy to tackle and it was written by fans so, you know… support small time artists and all) and go read. Just for ten minutes, or two hours. You’ll thank me later. 

NaBloPoMo: If I had a million dollars..

If you found one million dollars in the morning and had to spend it by nightfall, what would you do with the money?

We’ve all heard it a million times. If you found one million dollars, what would you do with it? 

I have an answer of my own, of course. Pay off my student loans, buy a house, put away some money for my young cousins to go to college, etc. But this is different. The option of saving up is out the window. The possibility of investment, shopping around, making smart purchases, living life comfortably.. all of those things are out the window. 

This scenario is asking you to be selfish, forcing you to make rash decisions. For one day of your life, you can have everything you want, but you’ll never be able to go back to that freedom. 

I don’t think I could do it. Yeah, I could still pay off my loans, I could grab a house, maybe a car, if I think fast and don’t shop around. I would go to the mall, get myself something pretty. Then what? Are war bonds still an option? Can I somehow squirrel it away? 

The more I think about it, the less I know what I would do. And it makes me realize.. the draw of this fantasy isn’t about having so much money. It isn’t about what you can buy. It’s about being comfortable. Having peace of mind. When you take that away and force the money into a twelve hour shopping spree, the comfort is gone. That’s not to say I wouldn’t enjoy it, but I would definitely have to get creative. Maybe I could quickly hire someone to help me..?

(the intentional mom could probably give me some budgeting tips..)