A little different perspective....

a child cries because the mother can not feed it. the mother steals food so the child can eat. the mother goes to jail for stealing food. now the child has no mother. and no food. the child dies. the mother learns her child is dead.  she cannot eat because of sorrow. she dies. 

a sad story with no point. or is there? there really must not be or this would never happen again. i am feeling particularly sad tonight. my house is slowly becoming something to be admired once more, so it can't be that. my musician has left town again, but i know i will see him again, so it isn't that. the worst part about writing is when you can't think of what the next sentence will be. i am currently having a great deal of difficulty with my novel. nothing is happening. anastasia is so empty right now that i cannot even begin to bring her out of her misery. and like a spouse whose mood rubs off on you, hers is on me. and the stupidest part is that i created all of it. i made her empty and i don't know how to fill her.

she is in love with a man who is completely incapable of returning the degree of love which she gives him. fair enough. so leave him anastasia. but she can't. not yet anyways. she is the kind of woman who gives it everything she has, then more before giving up on anyone or anything. i admire her for that. i am her contrast in that way. i give up as soon as it gets hard. at this moment i don't know which is better. i would love to take her away. buy her a plane ticket to paris so she can fall in love with a tall, dark and handsome stranger. at least for a weekend. but no. she will stay. and she will be sad. and i will be sad with her. 

maybe painting my wall purple will change my mood. and hers....

an indication of spring...

with the flowers blooming i wait for you

below the tree where we first met

it fills me with sorrow to know in my heart

that you will never come.

the year has passed with tears of terror

and now the calm is near

but without you here by my side

my limbs will bear no fruits.

my roots begin to grow so firm

now not even the wind can move

me from the spot where i wait

with sunshine as my heart.

a poem written for me from my musician. 

hands up if you are being stalked....

well i am glad to be home once more. my absence has been due to the craziness that has been the past week. i really am tired of thinking about the whole thing, but a brief re-cap for your benefit is in order....

scott found me. scott followed me. i left town. i came back. scott was still here. tried to get in one night. police were called. he was arrested. restraining order. deported. the end.

i am incredible shook up from the entire thing, but knowing he is now out of the country has begun to calm my anxiously frayed nerves. i think the best way to get over the whole thing is to A) throw all my energy back to my novel.

B)install a security system. tomorrow.

C) call my father.

it really is only c that is leaving me a little nervous. he was against scott from the start and now has the sort of i-told-you-so attitude that created a bigger gap between us than i could have imagined. perhaps it is time i let him have his confirmation that he was right. i really think it would only do everyone good for him to be able to tell me that he was right and for me to actually agree wholeheartedly for once. it will make him feel better i am sure. and it will make me let go of any subconscious negative i still have towards him. he is my father afterall. and he does deserve all of my respect. and it is time i told him that. right now...

A week with the band.....

i have survived. for a little while there i wasn't sure if it was going to be possible. but i think this may be one of those cases where i am better off because of it. spending a week with 5 boys on a bus is never, ever going to top my list of fun things that i have done.

in the interest of avoiding scott's atttempts to see me, i ran away with my musician. i thought this was a great idea, and honestly, for the first few days it was. he was great. he was sweet, and attentive and everything i hoped he would be. it was more perhaps the lifestyle which did not agree with me. oh, and the smell. have you ever spent days on end with men who act like teenage boys in the way of hygene? in that they would prefer not to shower. gross. so i left them in montana and flew home. back to my quiet life. back to my novel. back to a porch full of flowers and packages with letters inside. 

on seeing what was there, i immediately had sadie come over and throw everything out for me. i didn't even want to touch it. it disgusted me. i hope that he has gotten it all out of his system because i do not want to even think about what i may have to deal with here. i mean, come on. get a grip.

i have decided to phone the police if he continues to harass me. a little much i would agree, but i really do not have time for this. my novel is not going to write itself....