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Kissing Booth


Kissing booth

25 cents

Put your lips on hers

But at who’s expense?

Fireworks in your mind

Your lips part

Your eyes meet.

There was for sure a spark

Next in line pushes you away

Back to reality

But in this moment you stay

The fair comes to an end

The glow of the Ferris wheel is no longer

She leaves with a friend

You’ve never felt more somber.

How could she kiss all those other guys?

Didn’t your moment affect her too?

You think to yourself,

“I wonder what else she can do?”

You lay in your bed

Your mind goes wild

Can’t get her out of your head

Can’t stop thinking of her smile

The look on her face as you pulled away

God, there had to be something!

No one just kisses you with such heat.

Why didn’t you say anything?

You idiot! You didn’t speak.

She kissed like, 100 people tonight

Besides, you’re not worth remembering

Awkward, gangly, uptight

And now your hands are trembling

What is it with these other guys?

Out, playing women like Friday night home games

Are they there when their girlfriend cries?

Or are they just in it for fame.

“I totally nailed the head cheerleader”

Locker room banter

You’d never deceiver her

But you’re just a blip on the radar.

What if you could change

Show the suave, debonair man inside?

A change of clothes

Maybe a few crunches at the Y?

Reality check

“She’s All That” wasn’t based on true events.

So you turn on your side

It definitely was a night

New feelings, new senses

And, hey you’re still young

But if you find 25 cents,

Tomorrow you’ll use tongue.

How Politics Ruined My Relationship

I’m sure everyone, even if you don’t reside in the US knows the upset we’re living in right now.  As a millennial, I believe in safe places because sometimes this world is just honestly too much to comprehend.  What if your “safe place” came with a price?  You seek refuge but you become forced to face the very strife you’re trying to avoid?  This was my 9 1/2 month relationship.

It started out okay…he liked different music (a country fan while I dig Nine Inch Nails) but that was tolerable.  We went on cool dates and the more we hung out, the less our differences popped up.  Enter election season.  One day I received a call.  “How can you vote for her and seriously call yourself a Christian?”  This was what I answered the phone to.  What difference does it make?  Isn’t part of being in a relationship supporting one another?  I didn’t bash him for his decision to vote for our now POTUS.  I even spent the night of November 8th at his house just so we could hear who won together.

I thought after the elections were over we would become closer.  I never pulled away like I wanted but sure enough I was still bashed for my disgust in our new President.  Now, I’m not going to riot and say “Not my President” although I totally understand the appeal.  Things may seem fishy about this election but as I sip my tea I know that rioting is not going to change the opinion of the far right.  It’s just going to procure more “whiny babies who don’t work” talk.

For months I tried to cut off the talk of politics.  A few weeks ago he calls me and says, “I can’t talk to you.  I deserve someone I can talk to.”  I said he was right on deserving an outlet but he can talk to me about anything…anything EXCEPT politics.  Unfortunately that’s all that was on the menu to converse upon that night.  I recall screaming into the receiver “STOP!  STOP!!  I can’t talk about this” with no avail.  I felt like it was verbal assault.

We broke it off when he couldn’t see that he had an anger problem.  He swore up and down that he was doing all he could in this relationship and I wasn’t pulling my weight.  So, I present to you, anyone who reads this to comment.  Do opposing politics belong in relationships?  Have any of you broke up or maybe found a way to make it work?

Let’s discuss.


My Redbubble!

Hello fellow dishwater fans!  I have a redbubble account now and some of my art is available for prints and various other goodies.  Go check it out!

My Redbubble!


Boys are dumb.

Boys are dumb. They have three main organs: brain, heart and penis. They only think with one of them. Obviously, when it comes to women it’s not usually the brain…or heart. I’m not exactly sure why I’m still single. I guess it’s because I haven’t really put myself “out there” to look for guys. I recently graduated from college (with honors, I might add). It took me a long time to finish for two reasons. The first was because I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life, so I switched majors three times. Four, if you count the mishap where my advisor thought I wanted to be in video editing for two semesters. The other reason is because I went part time. I took two classes in the fall and spring and one class in the summer. It was very frustrating but I know myself well enough that I knew that if I were to take more than I could handle, I’d end up overwhelmed and over my head in stress.

The biggest thing that holds me back is that I have a mental illness. I deal with it like anyone else would deal with a physical illness. I seek help when I feel it flare up, I see doctors for treatment and I take medicine to ease the symptoms. I don’t enjoy thinking about my illness as something that should hold me back, so I suppose that cancels it out. This is not why I’m still searching for guys…at least I hope it’s not why no one seems to want to date me. Bringing the subject back to the male species, also known as life’s mystery topic, the question of why am I “un-dateable” arises.

First off, it’s not a confidence issue. I don’t find myself ugly. Sure, I’m eclectic, without a doubt. Donning a short, green hairstyle, I’m sure my first impression can be jarring. My left arm is covered in tattoos and I have my nose pierced in two places. I am also overweight. That said I am not a circus freak. I have lovely large blue eyes that have actually stopped people in their tracks to compliment me. Side note: I have trouble accepting compliments, so for me to think that any part of me is “lovely” is a big deal. The thing about my appearance is that I carry myself well. I strut when I walk (not John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever) because I am confident. I don’t usually feel my weight. It’s not until I walk too fast or run up the stairs that I realize that, yes, I do need to lose weight. Nevertheless, I don’t think I should be judged by my size and yet it’s a sure thing to turn off a guy.

The thing I’ve found about guys is that they’re always searching for a “type.” A type…type of what?! Type of species? We’re all human. Everyone has flaws. My physical flaw is my weight. So, guys, get over it. I can lose weight when I get around to it. It’s not top on my priority list. Is it my hair? Do boys fancy long hair and so that puts me in the “un-dateable” category? In my opinion, that’s just stupid. So what is a “type”? How can you pick someone up in, say a bar and know they are your type? I’m guessing its appearance based. Which, let’s face it, sucks. Not everyone can actually choose how they look. Girls don’t seem to be as picky. We seem to fall for personality. A guy buys us a drink? Awesome. He must be kind. He comes over to talk? Great! He’s confident! Next is the laughter/sense of humor test. Can he make us laugh? That is a bonus. I’m talking cha-ching!! Lastly is the what-do-you-do-for-a-living-or-spare-time test. Majority of girls don’t care if you are not a lawyer. Say, you work in construction…you have a job! You’re independent. Test aced. You are a student getting you’re law degree…hmm. I’d take it if there’s a sense of humor. If you play World of Warcraft all day in your mom’s basement…perhaps a deal breaker. See? Women care about personality first. Kindness, chivalry, sense of humor first…and THEN job.

So, we’ve figured out how the “typical” girl mind works. Now for this type crap. If you are looking for a 5’10” size 4 lady with long blond hair and size 34 D bra, make sure you have a back up plan. There are women out there who look like that. I’m positive there are. They will accept your drink. They will converse (I hope) but if you start drooling, they will be turned off. I could be wrong on account of I do not fit into that mold. Confidence. A one word turn on. I myself am confident. I have issues and baggage but I sure as heck won’t bring them to our date. Why, for the love of God, can’t men have the same ideals of women? It’s disgusting. Men who have “types” are not my type. I don’t want to hear it if you are looking for a 6 or a 7. Women are not numbers.

Which brings me to my next problem. Rejection. The whole “It’s not me, it’s you” scenario that we’ve heard one time or another. A disgusting, passive, round about way to say it’s not you’re fault that I don’t like you. Rejection happens. It happens again and again and people (like me) keep looking for that someone who won’t change me so I can stick to my morals and stay myself. I’m okay with someone dumping me but please, explain what went wrong. I won’t learn from “It’s not you…” all I’ll think is that another guy is failing me. I’m smarter than that. I’m guessing most people are smarter than that. It all falls back to that type thing, I suppose.

I just want to know what type am I? Whose type am I? All I know is that I’m having some difficulty figuring it out. What I have figured out is this: I am beautiful, caring, intelligent, accepting of my flaws and open. It’s so frustrating. I see these things but I’m having a hard time showing them. It’s pretty difficult to convey your strengths in a 500 by 500 pixel image on a dating site (which I’ve been reduced to). So, I’ve touched on personality and rejection in the “type” category but what am I doing wrong on a dating site? As mentioned before, I am intelligent. My about me section is accurate, sans the mental health problem. Let’s face it; unless I explain in face to face in terms that make sense, no one will really understand the illness. I’ve said the basics, I’m a college graduate, I love photography, I’m a good cook…blah blah blah. Now what? I sit and wait. I’ve emailed 25 guys based on their profiles and I have gotten zero responses. I’m not one to be suspicious, but I feel that it’s got something to do with that darn profile picture. One would think I’d be sad and yet, I’m not. I am annoyed. There is a serious problem with men’s thinking these days.

Men have three vital organs. Their brain, their heart and their penis. When dating, which organ are they really using?


Eight years, one month and twenty-two days

An estimate of when I felt this way last.

For purpose of proper explanation

Hesitantly, I visit my past.

If ever I made a wrong decision

Feeling comfortable here reigns first.

Lost in a familiar location

Surely, this place is cursed.

Silently, it crept into my soul

Violently attacking full force

A sickness began to run through my veins

The virus then took its course.

It felt the need to change me.

It was its sole duty to uphold

Nothing can undo what damage was done.

No one can melt this cold.

At a loss for words I lay here.

Eyes bulging, mouth gaping wide

Struggling beyond my own human strength

Just to prove I can survive.

A Lament of Loneliness

I’ve watched the color of his eyes fade away

What once was green has turned a shade of grey.

Sometimes I ponder on what could have been

Most times, those kinds of thoughts lead me back to him.


Sweet, sweet melancholy,

Wrap me in your arms.

Keep me in your dark comfort

Protect me from his harm.


Memories appear on every shadow cast,

Oddly, I am here to forget my past.

Everyday seems to be exactly the same.

I feel I only have myself to blame.


Darling misery,

A friend to call my own

If you love company

Why am I alone?


Often, I imagine his face next to mine

I sleep alone right beside a wasted piece of time.

Why do I submit myself to his torment?

Images burnt into my personal lament.



Black and blue but perfectly fine

Carefully, I inspect myself in the mirror.

I’ve was warned by you, but now it’s my time

My destiny couldn’t be clearer.


“You let me do this to you;

You did this to yourself.”


A furrowed brow, an unpleasant frown,

Eyes blistered and stained from tears

Here and now as I wander the town

I’m ready to face my fears.


“You let me do this to you.

You did this to yourself.”


Abrasive sounds of my ragged breath,

My heartbeat pounds in my ear

I hit the ground and hold my chest

My eternity pulls me near


I let you do this to me

I did this to myself

I drank it in yet didn’t see

I’d become something else.


Only Natural

Sometimes, I wonder what I am

Joy and power came to me when I ran.

At times, I wonder if I ever will be free?

These days it’s harder just to be.


Clock ticks, hands move slowly back and forth

Heartbeats bring me back to where I was before.

Tremors of hands and jerking of knees

Seizing, I’m giving up the will to breathe.


Standing, now I am on my own.

Lost, searching for a way to go.

Questions and answers both fade away

Confusion leads me to a position where I stay.


Tubes and wires keeping me alive

In this dormant state how will I survive?

Strings and stitches holding it together

Scars, I’m told stay with me forever.


Ocean breeze guides me to the sand

Nature gently takes me by the hand

Sunlight sends my eyes to tears

Water, wash away my fears.


Months pass, still locked inside this place.

Shadows graze a hand upon my face

Voices whisper words I do not recognize

Trembling, I open up my eyes.

Til’ Death Partner

to the end  In 2004, I took this photo for extra credit in art class.  My intent (then) was focussed on this young girl, mourning the loss of parents.

10 years later, I found this photo in a box.  Of course, my instinct was to roll my eyes at my past teenage angst.  After that reaction, I kinda just stared at it.  Something was off.

Upon reviewing the photograph, my eyes were drawn to the dates on the joined headstone. This couple died 9 days apart from each other.  Nine days isn’t enough to mourn.  It’s as if they promised they would be together always.

Call me sentimental, but I hope someday I will find my til’ death partner.