Perforation Problems

Somehow At some point I forgot the sweetness of words The gems in your mouth The slow perfect shape They became coarse and mechanical Functional  Awkward Purpose-full And pulled out of my skin like plucking hairs from my eyebrows Or like someone said in a book I just read Like pulling glass out of your penis I wouldn't know that part but I can relate But tonight I'm remembering what it's like To close your eyes and say a word Two words Three Softly Full of wonder

I started out today thinking I would write about the dreams I had last night, because they were the kind of dreams that make you believe you might have actually traveled to another world in your sleep. Time seemed to move at the same pace as it does in real life, and everything felt so fleshed out and concrete. Except there were dinosaurs and a vampire. A sneaky vampire. But it wasn't scary. I was like the leader of defense strategy. In the first dream, which seemed like it lasted hours and hours, I was in a giant building and dinosaurs were attacking. Attacking UNSUCCESSFULLY, because I was building up reinforced walls and hiding people behind a secret door. But I knew that at some point I wouldn't be able to fit any more people back there, and I'd have to leave them to die. Leaders of the Dinosaur Defense have to make hard decisions. I could do it. Also the dinosaurs were bright blue and red. Then the dinosaur dream transitioned into a vampire dream, where I was in th...

Here's a question for you: If you say you want to be a writer and yet never seem to be able to make yourself write anything, are you more in love with the idea of being a writer than the actual work itself? My brain says yes, but I don't want that to be the case for myself. I've always wanted to be a writer. I feel so happy when I'm actually writing and when I've actually written, but it's been really difficult to get myself there the last 6 months. I sit down and start something and then become overwhelmed with how hard it is, how I don't know where to go next, how there are flaws in my setup. I never get anywhere, even with the simplest plot. I can't even decide what I want to write. It's paralyzing. It's like my brain is numb. I could make lots of excuses – I'm out of practice. I'm worried about making money, so I spend more time consulting than writing. Now that I'm supposed to be trying this for real, the pressure is cripplin...

Sometimes when you're on a diet and you've been really good all week, you get to a point where you're forced to shove three cookies in your face in a span of two minutes. This is no ordinary food craving – this is an uncontrollable compulsion you feel leaching into your fingers, your tongue, the roof of your mouth. COOKIE. COOKIE. COOKIE. COOKIE. There's nothing you can do about it – just gotta give in. Or maybe it's just me. I did read an article once that was about willpower – studies show that willpower really is finite, and if you resist something earlier in the day, you're less likely to be able to resist sometime else later. You only have so much willpower to go around. When I'm really watching what I eat, my entire world revolves around deprivation, so sometimes that willpower just snaps. The good thing is that now instead of running with that feeling for an entire evening, I can usually keep it to the two minute cookie feast and then I move on. ...

Someday in an imaginary world where sugar counts as a whole grain and buttercream frosting is a vegetable, and where there are no recriminations, no consequences, no reasons to feel guilty that you're shoving cookie after cookie into your face, I will join the Cheryl's Buttercream Cookie of the Month Club. And every month, delightful concoctions will appear at my door, marking the passage of time with their seasonal sprinkles and appropriate cutout shapes, and there shall be cookies, all the time, everywhere. Never again will I say, "I wish I had a cookie." It will only be, "I shall go get a cookie, because I have many." Cookies will abound and be plentiful, and everyone will be happy. Ah, such dreams for mortal men! The glory.

This post might be a little jibbery, if you know what I mean. I'm in Starbucks, where I just got my free venti latte from my rewards card. I haven't been drinking as much caffeine since I stopped working in an office and I don't think I realized that until this exact moment. I left the house for some new scenery, hoping it might get my writing going. There are more people here than I expected – and an interesting mix of people, too. A kid drawing in a book while his mom and her friend talk. A man in dad jeans with his HP notebook, sitting back with headphones in and his hands clasped in his lap, his eyes focused on something on his screen as if in a trance. Students working at a table, laughing and playing with their phones. A woman in a suit with Toms and Spotify and Luna music stickers on her laptop. And a girl who from the side looks like someone I know, but she won't turn enough for me to be sure. It's been almost three months since I started working for mys...

Prompt: "Take a moment to dip into the deep well of the past year's 24-hour news cycle. What world event moved you this year? What story, series, or moment fascinated you? Made you scratch your head? Brought you to the edge of tears...or past the edge of your seat? Did an outside perspective change the way you felt, or make you take action? Share the headline(s) that resonated with you." I'm lousy at following the news. I usually have a general idea what's going on, but it's like I treat it with the same concern I do the plot of some reality housewives show I don't watch. It's happening, but it happens outside of my bubble. Why is that? Maybe I'm scared of caring too much, maybe I don't think me caring will make any kind of difference. Maybe I'm just too selfish and unworldly of a person? I'm not proud of it at all. I think it's one of my weaknesses. If I were a better person, I'd care about what's happening in the world a...