Walking Away

She sat and watched him. Just glances; furtive but casual. And he watched her. And then he spoke to her. And she knew she'd stopped breathing, but she smiled and laughed anyway as he walked away.

And later, with her hair down and messy around her face, brow knit together in concentration, she glanced up and caught him staring, smiling, flushed. Ducking her head, she only looked up at the brush of his hand as she walked away.

The line pulled taught keeping them bound apart, pulling her heart just beneath the surface of her skin and lighting her up; making him laugh out loud at nothing at all.

She fought day after day to keep her thoughts from searching for him, and every time the bell would ring, he'd catch his breath in optimistic anticipation, expecting to see her. He knew the exact day she'd be back, precise minute even, but still he silently hoped while she counted the days until they'd meet again, every rememberance bringing him right to her, achingly to her.

The end of eternity, seven days later. Same stolen glances, same juvenile flirtations. Waiting, distracted, he catches her alone, backing her over, bending to help her up. His hand on her waist, her heart in her throat, leaving her dumb, stealing her breath. Leaning back into his chest, she turns, embarrassed, eyes down. Grabbing her hand, he stops her and she looks up, frozen and locked and twisted in the dark depths that swallow her whole. She has no means of finding words. She doesn't know what to do, doesn't want to do anything, terrified she must do something.

Then suddenly he's there to stop the drowning rush, his breath on her shoulder, ducking his head, his lips graze her skin and she shivers. He stumbles an excuse, a makeshift apology and the demure vixen shows her face, sending his heart into his stomach.

Still holding on, he reaches and shuts the door, his eyes linked with hers, and his hand reaches for her face, searching, scanning, drinking it all in. Leaning down, he stops and stares, smiling as she smiles, he crooks his neck beside her cheek, whispering, "hello", swelling at her throaty reply.

She's laughing, whispering words he can't remember; he doesn't know their meaning, just the melody they play in his ears. He's home. They stand, tucked into one another, neither wanting to move.

She knows she can't stay, resigns herself to leaving even as his lips find hers. And then she's gone, empty of resolve and strength, melted. She wants this and this alone, his need for her is singular and encapsulating, and they lose their hold and he is melting too.

A quiet thundering wakes them from their lover's dreamy slumber, intruding and harsh in its reverent warning.

Yearning and electric, they feign passing conversation, polite and contrived, and then, as always, they walk way.

Let's Just Move That Last Entry DOOOWWWWN

Eww. It's been so long since I've posted over here -- I can't believe that alli entry has been up this long. That's not at all embarrassing...



To answer your questions, yes, I quit taking that stuff the next day. Make your own deductions.



Anyway, if you have time you've got to check out this video.



NOT FOR YOUNG EARS, or old ears, for that matter.



And if you have even more time, check out Rooftop Comedy's youtube page. But be careful, you could be there all day!!

No One Needs To Know This

So I'm gonna go ahead and put it out there for the world to read. heh.



Took some of that new alli stuff right before eating McDonald's, then I read the instructions.


*praying for an "oily-free" evening*

The SECRET

There's been such buzz about "The Secret" (good and bad) -- I personally love it and what it represents, and while I think the nay-sayers' intentions are good in worrying that people will be mindless sheep just "positively thinking" their life away, I wish they'd give us a little more credit than that.

What's wrong with working hard, being a good, decent, moral person, living by The Golden Rule, and sending good intentions into the world, believing that what you put out there will be attracted back to you? It's what's been going on for ages with religion -- it's the basic principle upon which almost every single oragnized faith is based upon.

Will the producers make lots of money from the sales of the book and dvd? Probably. Will it hurt anyone if the sale of those products generates more positivity across the world?

Don't we have more than enough skepticism and negativity already?

I think so, and that's how I came up with the idea to open a new store section at chunkyrhino (ba dum bum, ching). It's called chunkykarma and it's all about sending your positive thoughts, intentions, feelings out to the world. Even if all that happens is that you make someone smile, how could it be a BAD thing? Plus, one dollar from every sale at chunkyrhino will go to Invisible Children, Inc., so you're actually doing 2 good things at once!!

BEEP

I'm so excited about this new side project I'm working on with my mom!!

She and her students have joined the Invisible Children campaign (which if you aren't familiar with, you need to stop reading this post right now and go here, then come back)

Going along with the "My heart is beeping quote", they had been brainstorming ideas, some of which mom was discussing with me. A few hours later, and voila!, a fundraiser was born!!

Her students will buy stuff, their friends will buy, YOU can buy, we'll spread the word and help some kids! Best of all, I'll be donating all proceeds from the sale of the Invisible Children products to the Invisible Children campaign.

Did I mention they make great gifts???

The Brambles

For me, every now and then there comes an author who gets it just right in the descriptive department. Eliza Minot does just that in her novel, The Brambles, describing the essence of being a mother to perfection. Not only does she hit it right on the nose, she's also very accomplished in the "beautiful language" department. This is the way words are supposed to be used!!

It's taking me a little while to finish, mostly due to the fact that by the time 11pm rolls by and I'm finally able to sit down and read, it doesn't take long before I'm nodding off. Although I do enjoy her descriptive narratives, I'm a little ready for the story to move along -- it rambles just a bit with introspective internal dialogues and memory, but I keep on, knowing that the pot of gold at the end of the rambling rainbow will be certainly be worth it.

Amy's Writing Soundtrack

Writer's Digest sent out a writing prompt recently, asking writers to list the 10 songs that inspire them while writing. Since I rarely ever actually sit down to "write", I can only dream of what my soundtrack would be. Here are just some of my fantasies:

1. I Shall Believe (Sheryl Crow)
2. Scenes from an Italian Restaurant(Billy Joel)
3. Shine On You Crazy Diamond (Pink Floyd)
4. Pachelbel, Canon in D
5. Lonely Girl (Ragweed)
6. Natural Woman (Aretha)
7. Seven Spanish Angels (Willie/Ray)
8. Damn It Feels Good To Be A Gangster (Ghetto Boys)
9. Dear Mama (Dear Mama)
10. Daniel (Elton John)

The actual soundtrack of my blog entries?

1. The noisiest dishwasher EVER.
2. Jim Spencer saying something about the weather.
3. Jaxson screaming.
4. Ryan singing.
5. The Doodlebops.
6. A ringing phone.
7. Coffee Maker.
8. Washing Machine shaking off it's track because I've put too much stuff in. Again.
9. Mommymommymommymommymommymommy....
10. My own voice, replying..."hang on"..."just a second"... "what??"..."I'm coming!"..."Stop yelling!"..."Don't hit your brother/sister!"..."TIME OUT!!!!"