I want to be selfish.
I want to feel my feelings
on the outside
not hide them inside.
I want to cry in front of the world
instead of hiding in my room
with my tears.
I want to make decisions
based on my wants and needs
not those of others.
I want to take what I want
instead of saving it all
for someone else.
I want to be heard.
I want to matter.
I want to come first.
I want to be selfish.
©2017 what sandra thinks
I did not inherit Mom’s gardening expertise. It’s rather unfortunate. If I had any clue what the hell I was doing, I might actually enjoy it. And not hate dirt and bugs quite as much. Okay, let’s not get ridiculous. I’d hate bugs no matter what.
Everything she grows actually grows. And grows so beautifully. Unlike every plant I’ve ever had… which I manage to kill.
Everyone who doesn’t know better assumes Mom’s yard is professionally landscaped. No professional has ever done anything at Mom’s house. Every single thing out there was done by my parents.
Even the structures. Mom and Dad built the cabana by the pool. Complete with a ‘bar’ (kind of) and changing rooms.
Isn’t it lovely? Mom is great at designing and decorating… outside… and inside, too. But we spent little time indoors yesterday. (I know… me! Outside a lot… without being immersed in water! That’s messed up!)
Just look at this! In my yard, it probably would have shriveled up and died. And of course, Mom’s been doing this for so long that everything is perfectly overgrown. And just… pretty.
I remember Mom creating this tiny path… about a foot wide… by the pool when I was little. So cute. Especially with the pink petals everywhere…
… like on these sweet little steps on the path to the vegetable garden. Can’t wait for those tomatoes. Yum.
©2017 what sandra thinks
When I feel
the storm coming
I take a breath
and imagine
I am in your arms
When I hear
the thunder crack
I block my ears
and imagine
I hear only your voice
When I see
the lightning flash
I close my eyes
and imagine
I see only your smile
When I sense
The rain ending
I turn around
And find
You reaching for me
©2017 what sandra thinks
Your tears
break my heart.
Don’t you know
my only dream
is to see you
smile?
©2017 what sandra thinks
It’s a song about wild nights out in the city. But… also about having someone still standing next to you when the craziness is over… number one… someone who’s your ‘home’. (Hmm… that plays nicely into this. And I didn’t even plan that!)
Oh… and I think the video is funny. Watch to the end… even those few seconds of silence after the music stops… it’s cute!
You’re number one
You’re the reason I’m still
Up at dawn
Just to see your face
We’ll be going strong
With the vampires, baby
We belong, we belong awake
Swinging from the fire escape
Don’t come to my door.
I was making dinner tonight with a little fresh air wafting in through the screen door. It wasn’t particularly warm, but the light breeze was refreshing. The ringing doorbell was not. Especially since it was accompanied by knocking. What the fuck? Pick one. Better yet, pick none.
Had the door been closed, I would have pretended I wasn’t home and waited for them to give up. Who the hell knows how long that would have taken… I’ll bet the ringing and knocking would have continued for quite some time. But stupid me wanted fresh air… so the door was open… and I had to deal with it.
Two guys… one did all the talking… the other one just stood there, a few feet back. They wanted to give me a free estimate on roofing and siding.
First of all, our roof is new. Did they even fucking look up? I don’t need a roof.
Second, if I were in the market for a new roof or new siding, I’d call someone. Oh but he wasn’t giving up. He just kept talking. Asking for my name… my husband’s name… No.
We’re not planning on doing any work on the house.
“It’s just a free estimate. It’s guaranteed even if you don’t have the work done now.”
I don’t give a fuck. I don’t deal with this stuff anyway and my husband’s at work.
“When will he be home? We can come back.”
Are you fucking serious? Take a goddamn hint.
I don’t know when he’ll be home. It varies.
“Can I get a number where I can reach you?”
No. I’m not giving you a number. We’re not going to have any work done.
“It’s just for a free estimate.”
I don’t need an estimate. We’re not going to have any work done. Ugh… then I had to get into the unemployed speech… I got laid off, we have no extra money. It will be years before we even think about any major projects.
OMG… I could not get these fuckheads to leave.
Until…
My daughter… oh, the mouth on her has its benefits. “Mooooooooommm?”
I have to go. Door closed.
And don’t come back, dammit!
I’m making dinner. I have kids. I’m fucking busy. And I’m not going to decide to have major work done because some pushy asshat shows up at my door uninvited and unwelcome.
Do these fuckers really get any business by harassing people this way? Even if I needed the exact service they were selling, I’d get it somewhere else… from someone who didn’t come to my door and intrude on my evening. I cannot possibly be the only one who wants to tell them to leave me the hell alone.
And get the fuck off my lawn.
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©2017 what sandra thinks
Well… I did it. I moved ‘fiction friday’. And I reserve the right to move it again… if I decide Wednesday is better. As you can see, I didn’t really think of a new name. I guess, for now anyway, the new name is ‘fiction friday tuesday’.
Oh… and sorry this installment is so short…
back to you. part 5. [previous: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4]
On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your pain?
Sunday morning, I woke up in pain. I don’t know the cause but I spent yesterday with horrible back pain second only to labor. I could barely move. It hurt to breathe. And it hurt to cry but it the pain was so bad it was hard to stop. Pain level: 10?
This morning, I managed to get out of bed with less pain and tons of fear… worried that every move had the potential to bring the childbirth-level pain back. There were moments… but I had to take my daughter to school. I guess my husband could have come back after bringing my son to take her but I knew he didn’t want to have to go to work later than usual so I brought her. It went okay. Pain level: 7
I visited my chiropractor a couple of hours ago. Fortunately, his office is about 3 minutes from my house (a little closer than the school, even). I feel better. And holy crap, the adjustment was a little scary… like all my bones were wrong. But as soon as it was done, I was able to take a deep breath for the first time in over 24 hours. Pain level: 6
I wish I had no bones!
I’m still sore… and afraid I’m going to do something to fuck it up again. (I don’t know what since I have no idea what caused this in the first place…) I know the muscles need time to recover and all, but I hurt and I feel like I’m going to be cautiously moving in slow motion forever. Pain level: 5
I couldn’t use my laptop at all yesterday. It was terrible. I guess I really can’t go a day without writing… at least not without misery. Psychological pain level: 10
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©2017 what sandra thinks
Liam Sullivan's Ideas and Reflections
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