Pillow fort and Doctor Who with Amy Pond

So, Amy Pond came back after I took my walk.  She’s been away for a while.  Like two weeks or so.

So we built this fort out of blankets and comforters and pillows.  We’re watching Doctor Who, season 5, the lodger.

I would like to note that Matt Smith’s legs are bloody gorgeous.  He’s was in a soccer kit and all I could think was… the doctor’s pant don’t do him justice.

matt smith four Matt smith onematt smith three matt smith two

Mermaids and books


The mermaid peaked above the water, holding her long white hair with one hand while the other palmed the blade on her hip.  It wasn’t often the mermaid had to use force, but it certainly set her mind at ease when dealing with the sealers.  The dock was clear, all except for the sealer.  Diving back under, she grappled around for the heavy bag to keep their loot in.  Once again she surfaced without uncertainty, staring at the seller.

He was the seller she liked to look at the most,. As far as humans went, he was not bad looking.  He wasn’t a merman by any standard, but the mermaid enjoyed looking at him.  He was tall, broad shoulder, with hair like the night sky.  His eyes were the same color as the seaweed.  If she were alone, only then would she admit she had a desperate longing to stare at his full lips, maybe even kiss them.  However, she was not alone.  members of the battalion were only a few lengths away.  She was not here to flirt, even though she probably would.  She was here for business.

Her long air clung to her tattooed shoulders and torso, the ends drifting around her like an aura.  The seller had done business with this one before, but for the life of him he could not remember the mermaid’s name.  He did remember the purple anemone eyes and the freckles that traipsed across her pert nose.  The pointed ears stuck out among the glossy slick hair.  He wanted to touch her.  He bowed to her and she nodded.  Consented to do so, e sat down on the edge of the dock, one foot dangling over the damp boards.  Joseph spoke, smiling.

“Good afternoon.”

“To you as well.”  Unlike the humans, her voice was both rough and soften, like thick wool.  It was only when they sang that they sounded unearthly.  The rules that bound mermaid carriers and human sellers did not allow her to sing, nor he to trap.  Only to do business.

“I know I have done business with you before, but I can’t remember your name.”

“Ingenue,” she replied.

“Young and innocent.  Tell me Ingenue, are you young and innocent as your name implies?”

She blushed, looking down.

“Perhaps.  Why do you ask?”

“I”m always curious about those with fins and gilded tattoos.”

Their eyes met and she didn’t look away.  It was he who broke the connection to give her the books.  The transferred the new with the old until he was left with old book and she with new.  he spoke then, watching her fascination with the literature.

“If you permit me, I would like to say thank you.”

“I do permit you,” she responded.

“Then rise up Ingenue.”

With a push, her torso and hips rose from the water, easily visible in the sunlight.   Her tattoos shone as Joseph took her hand and kissed it warmly.  Blushing, she whispered. Her lips barely moving, he nodded.

Se swam away with the book, excited for tomorrow.  while the relations between human an mermaid were frowned upon, no one said there was any harm in flirtation.  After all, he did promise her a book.

Virgin’s dance



Red hot embarrassment settles in high cheek bones

While this debonair young man twirls her

Around and around, by the river

Underneath the bridge with the striking stones


Her friends, or are they?, sit and watch the pair

She worries quickly, does she look alright?

Her steps are awkward and unpolished, while

His speak of a dedication to the art of seduction


She isn’t sure why her friends sit and stare

Do they enjoy watching this slow but steady

Dance, this partnership between two unwilling

But all two willing to their emotions


She knows with each twirl of her skirt

And careful clack of the low heeled shoes

He steps closer, is closer to pressing into her

Pressing into her


She hopes they’ll disappear, the people

She could care less about, so that they

Can be alone.  Alone underneath the bridge

To consummate their little dance

Princess trapped


For these sheets are all I know

Delicate pink, princess quality

Innocence in competence

This is all that was expected of me

This pink quality, muffled

Shrieking in femininity

Nothing but a little girl

When really, all I want to do


Is write.

To inspire the people

Showing them my point of view

Where I am a princess trapped

In my youth, in my tower

Where I am trapped as a

Little girl forever



These are what I want to do

To write books

On places I have never been

Or places that may never exist

With people whom are both friend

And enemy alike

to write plots where twists and turns

are indeterminable

This is my passion

Despite my innocence

I want to write

But all that I am is a

Princess trapped




This is what I love about being a blogger.  Since I am happy, I will post happy pictures.  So here is an adorable kitty cat.  Precious.

This kitty cat also signifies where I will be for a few days.


While I will still travel north bound for internet, assume that I am resting, after a few nights with little sleep.  I will post, most likely a lot.  I’m thinking of writing a story.  Would anyone be interested in reading it if I posted it here?  I’m a versatile writer, I am curious to see people’s reactions.

UP NEXT: A post with people’s names because I am getting tired of writing he or she or him or her.  Inspired by a friend of mine’s post.




So many flowers

Pretty pink petals

Virtuous white blossoms

Their fragrance speaks for themselves


So powerful in their colors or their bleach

Fragile to the slightest breeze, rain, a footstep


I have always loved flowers, even though they give me the sniffles in the spring.  Their smell is wonderful and I love to just sit and sketch them.  I haven’t been able to as of late, since it is winter and there are no flowers.  However, I want to let you all know that I am a giant fan of botanical gardens.  I love green houses filled with greenery and flowers.  I feel like a fairy when I’m inside them.

Once upon a time, my ex took me to a botanical garden.  It was New Year’s Eve.  He took me to this room with hundred of orchids.

I felt so at peace.  I love flowers.

I hope to return to some botanical garden some day and take pictures, bring my notebook with me.  See if the flighty fairy muses will appear and grant me a story.


Be like the flower

Who even gives its fragrance

To the hand that crushes it

HOPE and cats

Now, since I didn’t have the greatest day yesterday, I wanted to put something up that makes me smile.  The vile of hope is one of my favorite pictures.

And I just love cats!

Hope is all I have some days.  It’s all anyone has some days.  Hope is what I feed on and what I desire.  Hope keeps me going.  It will keep you going as well.  I have faith, I believe.


And so does this adorable cat!

bibliophile dilemma


From school to home, or the library or the book store

In that small town tucked away somewhere

She carries her burdens in pages and ink


Her back bows backwards under the weight of them

Their characters, their settings, their plots

Heavy in their meaning, in their wonder, in their delight


Her arms are only strong when they hold them up

Shielding them from the elements until safety is reached

Inside her room, where the small town exists no more



On the rich chairs from her grandmother, she’ll perch with her stack

Counting inventory like a shop keeper would to his stock

She revels in their numbers and sizes and shapes


Once she is settled with a tea cup in her hand, perhaps a snack

She’ll sit quietly and open the book on top

No longer is she herself, but an extension


She reads page after page, absorbing the ink

Wanting to escape into the book, wanting to still be herself

Wanting everything and nothing to change


The books ends and she is satisfied, content, complete

If only until she glances over and sees that night has fallen

And that there are more books to read


Plucking up another from its place

She flips it open with graceful fingers

Beginning the dance again.




This cat gets it.  This cat understands!

Sigh, too much homework.  I don’t want to rewrite m Shakespeare paper, write a sestina, do three lesson plans, do a unit plan, and start studying for finals.

Procrastination time.  I’m going to get off the laptop, read a book and nap.  Then after i nap i shall wake up, have a light snack, shower, get ready for thanksgiving dinner and then go.  When I return, I will most likely be in a better mood than I am now.  I will write up my thankful post and most likely stay up late doing work.  Ugh…

At least none of this work is due the day I return to school. There’s some brightness to this post!


Something like this would be perfect


There would probably need to be more shelves in this room for the books I have, but otherwise … this is just a little slice of perfection.  Flannel sheets, books, solitude.

It’s not that I’m not sociable.  I just have these moments where the introvert in me says “get out, go sit by yourself, and relax.”  Usually I listen to her.  This would be a perfect place to sit and relax.  Sigh…

I do so love books and beds.  I love to read in bed or in a comfy chair.

I love to read.

Books, magazines, articles, anything.  I just want to read it all.