Italian Brunch

Getting ready this afternoon, I am rushing a bit. My mind is racing all over the place trying to get everything organized for my little party today. My three close, very different ginger friends are coming over for an Italian brunch. I bought all kinds of drinks, non alcoholic, since I am almost a year sober from that poison. A&W Root Beer, IBC Cream Soda, Pure Leaf Lemon Tea,  and Pure Leaf Green Tea, Starbucks DoubleShot Espresso shots, Crush Orange Soda, Snapple Peach Ice Tea, and of course Tropical punch BodyArmor SuperDrink. Ok, so I may have gotten a little carried away with the drinks, but can you blame me? I am cooking the sausage for this dish, getting my Italian salad ready, Sharyl is making the cold Italian pasta salad. I am also making stuffed mushrooms with yummy crab meat and cream cheese, fresh garlic bread. Yes, today will be fun. It will be a good thing for me, to be surrounded by a few of my friends. It will definitely take my mind off of things. I am lucky that I have such an array of friends that I can call on to come and help me get through my darkest, and even best times. I might film a bit of it to put on my Instagram or twitter. That should be hilarious. I am just aching to show off my super hella cool new dance moves. Plus did I mention that my friends are gorgeous women, should I teach them my new moves? Haha.

I am not saying cooking is all fun and games but for today it was. I think the hardest part was driving back and forth to town trying to collect everything I needed. Even with a list I managed to forget a couple things. Being manic can sometimes be a bad thing, but my house is spotless. So why even complain at all? I couldn’t help but think that the mailbox I saw that was knocked off on the side of the tiny road we live on was done by Sharyl. She drives so close to them, it literally gives me chills riding with her. I swear she has nearly taken out a few with me sitting by her in her gigantic truck. Scary.

I am currently in the process of getting together a playlist for us to listen to while we play the board games after brunch, and writing here on my blog. Why does iTunes know that I love my 80’s music and keep recommending more songs that fit that era than not? It think it’s a great possibility that I will just stick with Pandora today?

So I have not been neglecting my website, I have been writing some new things that I will post within the next few weeks. Here is something to tide you over until then. I wrote it back in 2005 and it is has been published twice. In two different magazines, I am one proud writer. Still though, it has brought more meaning to my life now, than it ever did back in 2005. Enjoy.

Mix of the Minds-

Silence speaks through unnoticed stares,

As to read your thoughts is like a dare.

Wanting to unlock what you hide inside,

When all you want is your secret to die.

When I see thoughts, I see them so clear,

And not always of the one you love so dear.

Day in, day out wondering creeps through,

Of a younger to spark your life anew.

Not only in mind, but your heart desires,

Of how far you’ll go, how much it requires.

Never the first step will you ever take?

Afraid to make a horrible mistake.

To take a risk you would rather die,

But do you want this position to try?

For who knows, you might have fun,

When it’s all over with, said, and done.

When you think it back through and through,

Maybe I wanted the same of you.

© Tasha Geller October 27th, 2005

© Tasha Geller-Hollingshead, http://www.billiejean.live, http://www.billiejeandotlive.wordpress.com, January 15th, 2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Tasha Geller-Hollingshead and http://www.billiejean.live, http://www.billiejeandotlive.wordpress.com  with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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Sleep walker

Sleep walker, why do you sneak at night,

in the most peaceful hours?

Night walker I feel you drag your

feet across the floor slowly.

 

Your blindness of my love for you is killing me,

breaking me apart quickly.

 

City drifter so many choices you have

who is your first, second, and third?

Cold catcher keep your twisted

tongue out of my reach.

 

Chorus;

You sing your lullaby to me,

you wrap your silk arms around my body

and cradle my hopes and insecurities into happiness,

followed with a ray of forgiveness.

 

High ropes seeker keep stretching on

towards eternity, until you reach me,

Mind space eraser, my thoughts can

only travel to your sweet face.

 

It’s like a cat scratch fever on an

evolving door, keep walking.

 

Chorus;

You sing your lullaby to me,

you wrap your silk arms around my body

and cradle my hopes and insecurities into happiness, 

followed with a ray of forgiveness.

 

 

When I finally get you in my sight my lungs collapse.

When I touch your skin on mine, my fears surpass.

For all the fights, boundaries, tears and long nights,

cease to exist for this simple moment of serenity.

 

Chorus;

You sing your lullaby to me,

you wrap your silk arms around my body

and cradle my hopes and insecurities into happiness, 

followed with a ray of forgiveness.

 

 

Sleep walker, why do you sneak at night,

in the most peaceful hours?

Tasha Geller-Hollingshead © copyright 2017

 

© Tasha Geller-Hollingshead, http://www.billiejean.livehttp://www.billiejeandotlive.wordpress.com, 2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Tasha Geller-Hollingshead and http://www.billiejean.livehttp://www.billiejeandotlive.wordpress.com  with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

 

The Therapist

Staring across the room and looking out of the window, I see a man run across the road. He was wearing a black hat that caught my attention. If I look in the right angle I can see as he zips up his black matching coat and run in the black squared shoes he is wearing. The weather, so cold today, and it’s so high up, this building. The sky is sitting even levelled with me today as I embark on another journey with “the therapist”. I wonder if God has a hand in the vision I see in front of me today. Leaping out to grab me and change the proper expression on my face, I am guided to another room. Sometimes I can hear that girl, I can hear her crying in the back ground, around the corner, or is it through the thin four white walls and a not so cushiony carpet that surrounds us again. Less than classy artwork on the walls if I may say so myself, we all are trapped and locked in here. Where is the key? You may ask, why I chose to talk about him today? Out of all the days that come and go in our lives, I choose this particular moment to talk about what most would assume is a less than relevant person in my life right now. Leaving them only to end up being wrong.

Starting with his pointy nose, squinty eyes, and the way he crosses his legs, I would have to say he is the most important person to me that I have to hold dear to my heart. At least, until it’s time for me to give it away to those that are around me 24/7. For now though, my heart is broken and shattered into a tiny little pieces. If I were to sit and try to count all of them, it would be in the millions and the days would drag on while tears fall down my face endlessly. For I am a broken person. I wish I could say that all of my childhood days were happy and I had a happy life. I have never really had a happy life, now that I think back. All of my decisions, those in care of me and their decisions that caused me trauma and pain. The paths I have gone down, had led no where but to sadness. I have many sides to me, some depressing, some mysterious, some happy. I have so much to learn, but will I even give him a chance to help me? What is this thing people call happiness? Is that term really subjective?

(giggle) When you’re talking he will say ok, ok, ok, rather quickly after I speak to cut me off momentarily when I get carried away. He will wait for me to say something rather than asking a question to probe further he will then just say ok. Then a different question, then ok. Then another question, then ok again. Well- followed with a sigh, is the code word and look though, if you pay closely attention you will see and hear it throughout the session. Like a clock that never fails to tick and tock. It is when I know it’s no longer a valid conversation to have, it ends. I know that if I wanted to I could talk about things that could help me, I could get the help I need with him. I am stubborn as a bull my grandmother used to say to me. I see where she was coming from now, even though her opinions could be bought for a dollar a minute, and came true, still, I should have listened to her more. I wish she was here to hear all my complaints and tell me to be grateful for even being alive.

Throughout this long ticking time in session, I reach over to grab his hand, jolting him and startling him. I tell him my deepest dark secrets one at a time. He grins from ear to ear and eerily enough I liked that look. I liked the thrill and excitement that came over his entire face. For I wonder what all goes on inside HIS mind, this trained, well-educated therapist. The one who sits with his chin in his hand and two fingers that point toward his jet black hair. That means the gears are turning, he is thinking very deeply. Years of experience talking to people over and over about the same stuff, I realize why not go ahead and just get it out, something different this time? Why hide who I am anymore, this other side of me? Something that he can actually help me with and I’m not ashamed or embarrassed to know that I have a side that does actually exist in others. The mere fact that I could raise his body out of his chair and cause him to walk around the room tirelessly, showed me that he’s thinking about it. Finally, why did I feel so used, in the end? Was it worth it, opening up this time? Do I still have to question myself and my thoughts on a daily basis? You betcha, but that therapist, that one time. That one day. He understood me and I understood him if only for that ONE minute.

Always, The patient

Tasha Geller-Hollingshead © copyright 2016