Seven...

You're gonna knock 'em dead! PA would smile and say to the sweet girl seven...
Laps and caresses and butterfly kisses she loved and she craved like the sun
What did they mean when they spoke as if I could not hear and said, "this one's
gonna be trouble, my god..." Why? Just brush my hair with your hand, and tickle my toes softly...said the girl nine...
Daddy, rub my back! Why not? she feels the warm paternal hand push her off his lap, and hears his voice blurt the words "you are to big for that" My heart just broke into a million tiny shards thought the girl ten...
Uncle smiles and asks why I am so sad; I will make some rich millionairre a wonderful wife one day--with my long legs and my sweet face; why does he laugh about
my legs and how does he know who I will love? thought the girl twelve...
Then came the anger, the rage, the stomping WHY WON'T YOU TOUCH ME ANYMORE
I only want to be loved, we all want to be loved, she wants to be loved
Stop it, don't act like a whore, you asked for it bitch, what is wrong with you, stop
heard the girl fourteen, fifteen, sixteen...
All I ever wanted was for you to be HAPPY...JUST BE HAPPY...I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU ARE NOT HAPPY...I want you to be happy Dad said with only his words. Her head spun with confusion and she began to hate the sun at seventeen
He will touch her, love her, fuck her, marry her, hit her, and buy her sunglasses; so she ran away and jumped into the flame at eighteen...
Days past, years flew by, he did not really love her; cover it up with the liquid happiness and a decent diagnosis from a clinic- the woman twenty, and hold her breath until nearly thiry
Miracles? Therapy with a man who helped open the festering wounds and drain them, the pain so wretched that she almost left thirty two
Try it again, the REAL love, he KNEW, he touched her deeply and she had him wrapped around her finger along with the gold band at thirty three
Deception can stare at one through crystal clear ocean blue eyes and the pain was a slow laborious one that began with those contractions far apart and bearable and ended with the death of her marriage, forty...
Daddy, rub my back...Someone, love me...hold me, remind me that butterfly kisses are as real as the moon and that sunscreen stops sunburns; Hope is a four letter word and she just wants to believe again, to be free...To be seven...

These Scars

They speak to me of freedom, of desperate days gone by
their beauty is immeasurable; sweet reminders of how I can choose life,
Live in the present, pleasurably and painlessly...one moment in time,
the time is now..now...and then
They never allow forgetfulness, yet are surprisingly forgiving
No repentance is necessary, just a shameless rememberance,
A nod of respect for the huge price one must pay to keep one's soul
They sing lovely and rythmic songs filled with pride
And I sway, I dance in the glorious knowledge that I would not change a thing
Even if I could,
These scars tell the tale of a strong and beautiful woman!

LALALALA land

Stuck in Southern California; yes, life can be a hellish place, but I am tough and shall, as always, prevail...We arrived in the Los Angeles area on March 13th; today, on March 29th, we have managed to stay down at the oh so exclusive (a nice way of saying very stuck up) Redondo Yacht Club and Hotel, then we moved on to the much more pleasant and always promising happiest place on earth, the Grand California Hotel at Disneyland. Now, a bit homesick but not missing my absent kitchen and even more asbent minded soon to be exhusband, we are enjoying the very lovely, and I say that without ANY sarcasm, seriously--this place friggin' rocks--Huntington
Beach Hyatt Regency on the beach...it is so pristeen, so right out of the pages of a travel magazine, that I am still surprised that the people actually have personalities...funny though, the few folks we have managed to chat with more than once and actually find interesting, be it that we talk about them afterwards or actually befriended them because of their spunk and ability to keep up with our warped sense of humor,lol, have been mostly foriengers--from the UK, from Egypt, but never other Americans! Other peeps from here all seem so wrapped up in their own bubbles that most of them don't even manage to hear our "hello's", or they act surprised that we spoke to them in the first place, I don't know, call me a "hippie", but I like loving my neighbors and just wrapping to everyone I run into...makes for a much more interesting and diverse holiday, as our UK friends like to call their vacations....my older daughter, Danielle, flies in from Northern California on Monday, and we shall spend two days here, then back to Disneyland for more happiness and Mickey and Minnie and all that fun!!! Will my kitchen ever be finished??? The saga continues...

Falling Out With Embarrassment: My Fall Out Boy Tale

Alright, here’s my story, no matter how very embarrassing it may be…

My daughter convinced me to drop by Atomic Comics before the FOB x Blink 182 concert, as they were holding a Fall Out Boy signing in celebration of the premiere of Fall Out Toy Works. Mind you, I appreciate the occasional FOB session - enjoyed it, even. But I’m not a fanatic or anything, no sir.
Well, we were having a nice drive down there (it takes about two and a half hours from our house), listening to FAD and singing. Fun stuff right? We make our way toward the exit we’re supposed to take, my daughter had just checked the google maps directions, and everything was running smoothly. My daughter remarks on her nerves, surprisingly she isn’t all that anxious, but rather, excited. In a strange turn of events, however, I begin to feel small butterflies escaping from their chrysalis, my stomach is now a-flutter. Heart rate quickens, and breathing too. What’s going on here? I’m not supposed to be nervous, I mean come on, I’m not some twelve year old kissing posters on her bedroom wall! I didn’t want to let on about how very bad this was getting, but that’s the thing. My nerves were growing steadily worse, and I had to do something about it.
I suppose I should mention that I get panic attacks from time to time, and as a result have prescriptions to aid them. So, I say to my daughter in an urgent yet quiet voice, “Can you get me a Xanax?” She laughs. She actually laughs. Then again, what do I expect, I would be laughing too if it weren’t me in the situation. Still, I get a bit angry. “Come on,” I say to her. She glances over, I’m not sure if she’s baffled or worried, both most likely. “Wait, seriously? You don’t even like them that much…seriously?” She quickly got the fact that I wasn’t quite in the joking mood (although, now that I think about it that would’ve been a pretty good one…), and she grabs my purse, handing me a Xanax. But, by that time I’m struggling to keep the car steady at 70mph on the freeway, and all the while grasping at my Propel water. By the time we get there and stand in line for about half an hour, I’m doing noticeably better. Throughout the waiting period, I had to listen to a litany of “Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually had to take a Xanax!”, “You met Robert Plant and were fine!”, “You’re that nervous over Pete Wentz!?”. Ah, the joys of motherhood.
How did the actual meeting go? Well, that’s a story for another time (and you’d have to woo me with more than just a hat). I do hope you enjoyed, and got a kick out of my cheek-reddening tale. I also hope all of those at Go Merch are having quite the time reading the plethora of Fall Out Boy related stories being sent their way. One last tidbit of knowledge: While the girl may grow into a woman, the fan girl is forever present. Happy reading!

running from awake...

Why must you always leave when my dreams end?
you swore that abandonment was a word you didn't know...
promises, damn promises in twilight that sting my eyes
You are the worst of them all, for you I still believe;
Each detail so sweet and real, you are invisible...but I am not
I cannot love you any more, or hate you any less
Confused, perplexed, yet always waiting for sleep to sweep me up into your strong arms.
I cannot miss you..you whom I know better than any other him...
If we passed each other on a crowded street would we know it? Could we possible not?
Would you be man enough to show it? Would I be strong enough to fall to pieces into your arms...only one thing will tell, one meeting, and not these lucid experiences that leave me feeling like something you scraped off the bottom of your lovliest pair of boots...
Oh, leave me, don't keep me prisoner of the night
please, don't leave me...keep me just once upon awakening, and I shall die a happy woman....

Let Me tell you...

Sit, let me tell you a story
about a time, about a place, a feeling, something graceful
and oh so unforgettable; wait--where was it? What was his name?
I sold the rights to these stories when I sold out
When I accepted the bruises and the wicked words, rather than
throwing them back and screaming "no thank you."
Fearless, was that young lass whom I barely can see in my
minds eye...perhaps a new pair of glasses? I'll throw in something extra
for a rose tint this time; this time I want it all, but not at that cost
My soul is up for a second mortgage, and the lender may NOT include rape
As part of the interest fee; I've got an impeccable payment history, just ask
God...I've ALWAYS made my deposit on time, and never complained when the stinging
Of my heart got so brutal that my spine twisted and my brain lost it's way...
Sit, let me share a story with you;
about a girl, about a lovely, beautiful, sweet girl...
Just give me some time, for I can't remember how it begins...

Marjorie Tuttle

FIFTEEN

I remember exactly what I was doing fifteen years ago today, in fact, almost to the hour...you see, we rarely forget falling in love, especially when it is madly, deeply, and perfectly. Some of you may know this kind of love, for it cannot be mistaken with lust or a mere crush, ever. It is as pure as the first winter snow, and as perfect as a fragrant lilly; This love never tarnishes, it only becomes stronger with time--it is a recipe that is closely guarded, but I know that one must add a scoop of trustworthiness, several cupfulls of heaven dust, and there is the unmistakable taste of fairy dust in smaller quantities, but nonetheless it is divine!
Fifteen years ago I held my new loves face, gazing into those dazzling blue eyes, kissing them gently, holding my love to my breast and feeling a warmth so strong within my chest that I was unsure if I would melt or explode!
Over the years, this love has changed...but never wavered; it is ever strong today, even more so, than that day fifteen years ago; if you do not believe in the love I try to explain, know that it is the only true thing in my life, the only constant and beautiful emotion that I can count on...
Happy Birthday, my sweet daughter! Fifteen, a woman, a girl, a scholar, an artist, a commedienne and a fighter...You fill me with so much love, and I shall wish upon you a year full of whimsey and dance, excitement and growth, friendship and learning. May each and every one of your dreams come true, sweet one!
Love,
Your Mother

Jigsaw bodies....

As I lie here I find that without a doubt
My body was made to be with you...
The curve of my arm, fits you with such ease
My soft, white breast is waiting for your head to rest upon
Trace the curve of my neck--yes, there
It is exactly as that of the sway of your shoulder;
like a simple 60 piece jigsaw puzzle, your parts
Fit with mine perfectly piece by piece
Some parts sweet and soft and warm and fuzzy
Others bring lightening, thunder, sweat and fierceness
To mind, your mind
Is curious and romantic, yet mysterious and cool...
Am I a fool to notice that each piece fits tightly?
or are there a million other pieces that will do
Perhaps not as charged; or as solid; or as beloved or endearing
As the quintessential suitability of you...

Frosty the Snow Monster....

Okay, I'm not in the mood to be poetic--nor am I interested in even trying to write, so consider this blog a simple rant, and either read it or shut the fudge up...yes, I am not in a great mood, and that, my friend (or enemy, whichever) is a rarity for me. I am normally a witty and smile ridden gal, with little to ask for other than some fun and giggles once in a while. But why the hell didn't anyone bother to inform me that living in a town where it is colder than shit most of the time between the months of November and May...and, as in the case of today, we receive gifts from the heavens of over a foot of god awful mushy freezing and annoying crap called SNOW.
Of course no two snowflakes are alike, as they are made by non-human monsters in an attempt to make you smile when you first see them, all pretty and white...and then, months later, when your propane bill is a gazillion dollars (yes, I am aware that gazillion is not actually a number, you fool!), and the mere thought of trudging aimlessly to your car and driving, NO--SLIDING down the road to the local store to purchase some awful frozen food that is costing you three times what it would if you would have done some actual grocery shopping in town before this blizzard hit...is just too much to take. Thank god for canned soup and yogurt, which I awlays buy too much of...yogurt because it is yummy and good for me, and canned soup because isn't that what you are supposed to stock up on when on sale for a buck a can during the winter??? My mom would be proud...but if I have to eat one more can of that Cambell's "MMMmmm Good" friggin' soup, well...it won't be pretty.
Breathe....there, that's better. Oh, and to top it all off, I have insomnia...so I am surfing the internet aimlessly, trying to amuse my sleepless head whilst my eyes are so dry and tired that all I want to do is make a stiff drink and pass out...NOW THERE'S A GOOD IDEA!!! I wonder what Vanilla Vodka and Tomato juice will taste like? Screw that, i'll be a "real woman" and just have a good jigger of Vanilla Vodka, straight up...with a little Kahlua...and a bit of milk...and some ice...(and I'm not even gonna spell check, so there! We shall see if all of that tuition to a Catholic school was money well spent...god knows I've needed a shrink to get rid of the guilt it bestowed upon me...) Cheers...

Fall from grace...

I have taken a tumble
Fallen, long and quite hard
Stumbled from grace...
Not in God's eyes, whatever such meaning shall have
nor in yours so kindly blurred
But in the most wretched vision, lives
My grace within
And the broken shards of glass
Imbedded so deeply into my soul
Are beyond removal by mortal's hands
No surgeon can save this lost
This desensitized and scarred woman
What if there is no power greater than one's ego?
Yes, oh, have I fallen from grace
In the eyes of my own reflection...
And that, my fine friend
Cannot be fooled or tricked
By deception or manipulation
Which works so well on foolish men!
I fear that I shall never walk
Never hold myself in esteem again
My posture is broken and my questions
Forever unanswered, have fallen far
Away and unforseen, fallen now, perhaps
Forever from grace,
The grace of my own cheating heart...

Marjorie T.