Quiet Hands

This makes me cry, because I want to find you, OP, and ask you if I can draw your hands (your voice); I want to find all the greatest textured things for you, things you like, and let you flap to your hearts content. The greatest compliment I have ever received was a quiet, “Youareverysymmetrical” from a boy at my high school who fought his way through the chaos in his mind just to tell me that. I sat down on the steps and cried because I know that must have been so hard for him. I do not cry easily. Please, have loud hands.

Just Stimming...

TW: Ableism, abuse

Explaining my reaction to this:

means I need to explain my history with this:

1.

When I was a little girl, they held my hands down in tacky glue while I cried.

2.

I’m a lot bigger than them now. Walking down a hall to a meeting, my hand flies out to feel the texture on the wall as I pass by.

“Quiet hands,” I whisper.

My hand falls to my side.

3.

When I was six years old, people who were much bigger than me with loud echoing voices held my hands down in textures that hurt worse than my broken wrist while I cried and begged and pleaded and screamed.

4.

In a classroom of language-impaired kids, the most common phrase is a metaphor.

“Quiet hands!”

A student pushes at a piece of paper, flaps their hands, stacks their fingers against their palm, pokes at…

View original post 798 more words

Retraction

Can’t sleep.
Subsisting on POM and ginger candies.

♡Woad

Writing 201 & Travel

Clearly, I failed the challenge. As per usual, I have an explanation, but no excuse. The insomnia got really bad these past few weeks, so at some point, I just decided fuck it and curled up in bed with a book until I passed out.
On the other hand, my plans to travel to Germany have been running smoothly. Yes, I can hear your confusion. “Wait, you’re going to Germany? But Woad, you can’t even get half a night’s sleep! And you failed in bringing us poetry!” I know, I’m sorry. Thankfully, the insomnia’s hit a lull, and yes, I’m going to Germany (squee!). But! It’s going to take a while.
Fear not, my intrepid blogger friends, there is still more weird to come.
(Collapses into giggles)

♡Woad

“Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.” -Confucius

You tried to kill me.
I’m coming for you.

♡Woad

Woad Rambles

To me, this is the definition of life: a temporary reflection of light against multiple surfaces.

♡Woad

Mermen like my po’ boys.

Last night I dreamt that I was on a cooking/survival show and we had to make shrimp po’ boys for a council of disapproving mermen. If you lost, they drowned you. I lived.

♡Woad

Writing 201: Animal, Concrete, Enjambment

Against All Odds

                         One
                      survivor,
                 the size of my
         hand, this ball of fluff, this             closed-eyed white creature. Moose    I decide is a perfect name. Prayer.         for your future, a ghost of hope that you will be
strong.

FORMATTING DOES NOT LIKE ME  I’M SORRY

♡Woad

Writing 201: Trust, Acrostic, Internal rhyme

Of Blood and Hunger

Suddenly, you look up at me
And I fear I’ve slipped again.
I see the darkness in your eyes,
Nothing cures this terrible hunger,
Tears on snow and the bright, wild rose
Simply hold us back.

Do not cry, my love,
I will hunt you a feast
Even if it drains from my own heart.

Leave me, that I may find myself,
Only then will I begin to change.
Never have I asked it of you,
Everlasting hunger, everlasting pain.
Leave me so I may join you.
Yours, faithful. Yours alone.

OKAY! That was fun. Clearly, I’ve been reading vampire books again. This was based off The Clodest Girl in Coldtown by Holly Black, but looking at it, it seems like it could have been written by own of those freaky hangers-on in True Blood (fangbangers, I think they’re called? I used to read the books.)
Anyhow, hope you enjoyed.

♡Woad

As per usual, I missed a day…

Writing 201: Journey, Limerick, Alliteration
I thoroughly failed the alliteration bit, but thankfully, having been addicted to tongue-twisters as a child, I am quite familiar with them.
So, yesterday’s poem (yes, I did write it yesterday, I just didn’t post it) is a two-part limerick about madness.

Falling

We spend our days in the rain
Losing ourselves to the pain
Cigarette smoking
And dead-thing stick poking
Until we start breathing again.

I couldn’t last a day
In reality, you claim
But inside my mind
You’d fall, you’d die
Shove your opinions up your *ahem*

♡Woad

Faux-Country Boil and the Moose-mallow

Here in California, we don’t really have any good-and-proper regiinal dishes. At least, not this far inland. So I made up my own version of a low-country boil. The entire thing cost about 12 bucks, and lasted two days (one dinner and one breakfast, for two). I call it a Faux-Country Boil because I didn’t follow any of the recipes, I just sort of threw shit in a pot and hoped it worked (which it DID). I’ll have the recipe up at the end of the post.
And now, the Moose-mallow.

I have the weekly pleasure of working with this little butt. He doesn’t have a proper name, but I call him Moose. Later, Iriarty came up with the idea of calling him Moose-mallow, because just a week ago, he looked like a wiggly marshmallow. Right now, he’s a full four weeks old, pure white, and we’re fairly sure his eyes are slowly turning brown. Side note: I work at a rescue shelter here in NorCal. Also, Moose peed on me today. Fun stuff.
Okay, I hope you enjoyed puppy pics. It’s recipe time.

Woad’s Faux-Country Boil

Ingredients:
3/4 lb shrimp, raw and deveined, shells on
2 4-oz lobster tails, halved
1/2 lb beef chunks, pan-fried
1 lb new yellow potatoes, quartered
3 ears corn, sliced into thirds
1 shallot, sliced
Old Bay Seasoning  (or some approximation thereof)

Boil a giant pot of water with sliced shallot and old bay to taste. I use about a handful of my own recipe. Dump in your quartered potatoes and pan fried beef. Boil 10 minutes.
Add the corn and lobster tails, boil 5 minutes.
Last, dump in your shrimp, skin still on, and boil another 4-5 minutes, until the pink shrimps start floating to the top. Strain the liquid off and dump the lot onto a plastic-covered table.
I suggest serving with cocktail sauce, melted butter, salt and pepper, some good bread, and a little bowl of sour cream for the potatoes.

♡Woad