This was originally posted on my MySpace blog back in 2008. I still think I'm funny! haha
I think I need to update my profile. I’m sure you’re all aware that MySpace targets the advertising you come across specifically to you, according to your profile information. In my desperate attempt to have someone tell me who I am, I decided to see what MySpace thought by watching these banner ads at the top of my home page for the night. Here’s what I learned about myself through the eyes of MySpace:
Apparently, I NEED A MAN. But he can’t be just any man. He needs to be my true love. To help me discover this, I can take advantage of the ad for a true love calculator I saw displayed three times tonight which asked me the question: "Will True Love Be Yours?" Furthermore, I need to get over my timidity about interracial relationships. Five times I was told, "Say Bye Bye to Being Shy" by the interracial singles ad, and three times Interracial Singles encouraged me that "Love Has a Starting Point." Can you believe all this time I’ve been looking for love and never knew it started with an ethnic man? WOW! Now I know .
But, I better do it quick! There is a Grimm Reaper, sickle in hand, who has asked me twice tonight, "When Will You Die?" as the clock depicted spins wildly. Strangest thing, the hand of the clock appears to be some kind of a bone...maybe an arm bone?
Now, there is a chance that I’m not going to be able accomplish this quest! And MySpace ads, in their gracious and omniscient way, has decided that I need to go back to college. Specifically, the University of Phoenix, which has beckoned to teach me three times tonight.
Then, there is this chance that I might be mislead, because I am stepping out of my comfort zone with these interracial relationships which I am afraid of, and the clock is ticking, so I can always check to see if I’m on the right track. Three times it’s been suggested that I check to see, "Does He Love You?" And, if by some chance he turns out to be a violent lunatic (like the rest of my ex’s), then I can always run like hell in the free pair of shoes I’m going to get from Zappas.com!
Now, I ask myself - I ask you....what in the hell did I write in my profile?
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Connection Is
“Where does it begin?” she whispered.
The television screen said, “Temporarily Off Air.”
The computer screen said, “Not Connected. Server Not found.”
The telephone said, “Connecting….,” but it didn’t.
“Where does connection begin?” she asked again.
Who was she asking? There was no one to hear, no one with ears. Still an answer came, all the same…..there is no beginning, just as there is no end. Connection is.
….I’ve just gotta get outside! Connecting through technology is a farce. Need to exercise and exorcise
The television screen said, “Temporarily Off Air.”
The computer screen said, “Not Connected. Server Not found.”
The telephone said, “Connecting….,” but it didn’t.
“Where does connection begin?” she asked again.
Who was she asking? There was no one to hear, no one with ears. Still an answer came, all the same…..there is no beginning, just as there is no end. Connection is.
….I’ve just gotta get outside! Connecting through technology is a farce. Need to exercise and exorcise
When Under Water
This is an older entry from the previous blog, but it's on my mind today....
I’ve been thinking about relationships, more specifically what I would like to have in a relationship. There is so much that I could list here. Should I begin with the usual? Sense of humor, nice eyes, intelligent, etc., etc….Too boring? How about this: I want him to be HOT (pronounced hawt, by the way.) Not really my style though. I’m far too transcendental to be focused on appearances. So, here’s what I’ve been contemplating…..
In October of this year, Tarin and I moved, but before the move I lived very close to a bike path that I used to walk and ride my bike on. Sometimes, I would ride with Brandon. Sometimes, I would walk with Tarin. Most times, I rode and walked alone. It gave me time to think.
When we first moved to Fayetteville in August of 2009, I was not accustomed to sharing my daily life with anyone but Tarin, so being in a relationship was an adjustment. Alongside the bike path runs a creek. There were a few occasions when I just needed to be alone, and I would go find a secluded place on the creek to sit and watch the water trickle past.
I love sitting next to running water. There is something soothing about the sound it makes as it breaks across the surface of rocks and debris in its path…the water leaving immediately replaced by more behind it. I have no idea where the creek leads, or from where it originates, and I didn’t care. I just wanted to enjoy the section I was graced to see. These places along the creek were designed for me, and no one could take that.
When winter came, there were days the creek slowed its journey to places unknown. I loved the days it was flanked by snow. The water was still rushing, although everything around it was buried in cold. There were even a few days the water spent encased in ice, and though it was hardly noticeable, there still was life beneath the frozen.
But winter was far too long for me, and spring came just in time. With spring, the creek seemed to be a symphony. The water rose, and resurrected life everywhere. Animals scurried around, as did insects and bugs. So much noise, so much movement, so much life! It was amazing, and I often found myself distracted from my walks, especially when I would walk at night….that is when the really interesting noises emerged, and the kitty cats prowled!
The summer arrived, bringing heat, so I avoided walking during the day and kept my walks restrained to evening and night. The symphony still played, but seemed stifled through a veil of humid air. Rain left for weeks at a time, and the creek began to withdraw. Eventually, the recession from the bank was over, and the water flowed no more. A great deal of the noise left, as well. I suppose the life sought water elsewhere, but I continued to seek solace in the dry creek bed. I watched. I waited. I wondered if the water would return.
I changed my walking route one day, and walked across the little bridge I usually sat by or walked past. As I returned to walk back across the bridge, a sign caught my eye. It stood erect to alert me that the water would return. The sign said, “TRAIL UNSAFE WHEN UNDER WATER.” It was hard to imagine the dry creek being so expanded that the trail would be beneath water…but if it were impossible, then the sign would not have existed, so I walked away comforted that the water would return.
On a day near the end of the summer, I was caught in the rain as I walked. I could have run home, but I didn’t. I walked and allowed the rain to soak me, hoping that the creek would find its fill, and that’s exactly what happened. The next day water trickled, water broke across the surface of things in its path, and water brought life back. I thought about the sign. I thought about life. I thought about relationships….and I wanted a relationship like the creek.
Somewhere out there must be a man who can love unconditionally. So, I’ll keep looking for him. I’ll wait for that man who might see me scared or running away and will stay the course, knowing that there may be silence, there may be noise, there may be ice trapping life, there may be snow, there may be a stifling heat which restrains, there might be a withdrawal, there may be no water at all, but the trail to my heart remains open… and in the drought, there is always an expectation that the trail will again be under water, surrounded with life, moving freely, bustling with passion and bursting with a love that does not know unforgiveness.
© 2010 April Prichard
I’ve been thinking about relationships, more specifically what I would like to have in a relationship. There is so much that I could list here. Should I begin with the usual? Sense of humor, nice eyes, intelligent, etc., etc….Too boring? How about this: I want him to be HOT (pronounced hawt, by the way.) Not really my style though. I’m far too transcendental to be focused on appearances. So, here’s what I’ve been contemplating…..
In October of this year, Tarin and I moved, but before the move I lived very close to a bike path that I used to walk and ride my bike on. Sometimes, I would ride with Brandon. Sometimes, I would walk with Tarin. Most times, I rode and walked alone. It gave me time to think.
When we first moved to Fayetteville in August of 2009, I was not accustomed to sharing my daily life with anyone but Tarin, so being in a relationship was an adjustment. Alongside the bike path runs a creek. There were a few occasions when I just needed to be alone, and I would go find a secluded place on the creek to sit and watch the water trickle past.
I love sitting next to running water. There is something soothing about the sound it makes as it breaks across the surface of rocks and debris in its path…the water leaving immediately replaced by more behind it. I have no idea where the creek leads, or from where it originates, and I didn’t care. I just wanted to enjoy the section I was graced to see. These places along the creek were designed for me, and no one could take that.
When winter came, there were days the creek slowed its journey to places unknown. I loved the days it was flanked by snow. The water was still rushing, although everything around it was buried in cold. There were even a few days the water spent encased in ice, and though it was hardly noticeable, there still was life beneath the frozen.
But winter was far too long for me, and spring came just in time. With spring, the creek seemed to be a symphony. The water rose, and resurrected life everywhere. Animals scurried around, as did insects and bugs. So much noise, so much movement, so much life! It was amazing, and I often found myself distracted from my walks, especially when I would walk at night….that is when the really interesting noises emerged, and the kitty cats prowled!
The summer arrived, bringing heat, so I avoided walking during the day and kept my walks restrained to evening and night. The symphony still played, but seemed stifled through a veil of humid air. Rain left for weeks at a time, and the creek began to withdraw. Eventually, the recession from the bank was over, and the water flowed no more. A great deal of the noise left, as well. I suppose the life sought water elsewhere, but I continued to seek solace in the dry creek bed. I watched. I waited. I wondered if the water would return.
I changed my walking route one day, and walked across the little bridge I usually sat by or walked past. As I returned to walk back across the bridge, a sign caught my eye. It stood erect to alert me that the water would return. The sign said, “TRAIL UNSAFE WHEN UNDER WATER.” It was hard to imagine the dry creek being so expanded that the trail would be beneath water…but if it were impossible, then the sign would not have existed, so I walked away comforted that the water would return.
On a day near the end of the summer, I was caught in the rain as I walked. I could have run home, but I didn’t. I walked and allowed the rain to soak me, hoping that the creek would find its fill, and that’s exactly what happened. The next day water trickled, water broke across the surface of things in its path, and water brought life back. I thought about the sign. I thought about life. I thought about relationships….and I wanted a relationship like the creek.
Somewhere out there must be a man who can love unconditionally. So, I’ll keep looking for him. I’ll wait for that man who might see me scared or running away and will stay the course, knowing that there may be silence, there may be noise, there may be ice trapping life, there may be snow, there may be a stifling heat which restrains, there might be a withdrawal, there may be no water at all, but the trail to my heart remains open… and in the drought, there is always an expectation that the trail will again be under water, surrounded with life, moving freely, bustling with passion and bursting with a love that does not know unforgiveness.
© 2010 April Prichard
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Turn the Air On, On
Besieged by the need
To come into your lair
And rest my head
On coarsely bred hair
Turn the air on, on
I’m breathing in heat
A breathless conception
A woman in need
The pulse crashes
On the edge in waves
But don’t stop the tide
To desire, not save
Turn the air on, on
I’m breathing in need
A breathless conception
A woman in heat
© 2011 April Prichard
To come into your lair
And rest my head
On coarsely bred hair
Turn the air on, on
I’m breathing in heat
A breathless conception
A woman in need
The pulse crashes
On the edge in waves
But don’t stop the tide
To desire, not save
Turn the air on, on
I’m breathing in need
A breathless conception
A woman in heat
© 2011 April Prichard
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Hierarchy, The Lie
Trying to connect with the tactile tapping
of fingers on plastic…rap, rap, rapping
And words swirl within the gray
But never find life within the day
Waiting for the nights conception
Light desires birth into dark reception
In contraposition is beauty revealed…
Interdependence ne’er seen or concealed.
And the words to explain do ever elude
While frustration builds and broods
A moment captured through that defined
Can never pierce the illusion of time
And never explain with adequate weight
The experience of unity we segregate
From eyes and ears continually shield…
Interdependence ne’er seen or concealed.
I’m going there...to that “ness” of no thing
Where words to confine defy to cling
No label given accepted as prison
No illusion of safety within weak definition
Our difference is interest, yet escapes view
Hierarchy, the lie we ever accrue
The juxtaposition of we creates an appeal…
Interdependence ne’er seen or concealed.
© 2011 April Prichard
of fingers on plastic…rap, rap, rapping
And words swirl within the gray
But never find life within the day
Waiting for the nights conception
Light desires birth into dark reception
In contraposition is beauty revealed…
Interdependence ne’er seen or concealed.
And the words to explain do ever elude
While frustration builds and broods
A moment captured through that defined
Can never pierce the illusion of time
And never explain with adequate weight
The experience of unity we segregate
From eyes and ears continually shield…
Interdependence ne’er seen or concealed.
I’m going there...to that “ness” of no thing
Where words to confine defy to cling
No label given accepted as prison
No illusion of safety within weak definition
Our difference is interest, yet escapes view
Hierarchy, the lie we ever accrue
The juxtaposition of we creates an appeal…
Interdependence ne’er seen or concealed.
© 2011 April Prichard
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)