The Martyr and the Poet

When I put this pen to paper I become brave
I acknowledge that creativity in me and let it speak
And it's loud. And it's free.
It's stared at in public
It's the type that's condemned
for tattoos and rebellion

She's unapologetic and naked in a field
Screaming and dancing with the monarchs
Running from both the Church and the Nazis
Towards honest love

She's wild and hated and loved more than any other

She's assassinated on stage for
Speaking up, speaking out
Loving freely, having a dream
Seeing more clearly, making love not war
Chased down and caged for believing in Who's

Not giving up or giving in
She never wins
But the point is the fight
And she fights to the end

What kid of existence is it?
To be on a platform
Where you're taunted by most, and lauded by others
The Martyr and the Poet are lovers

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Very bad day today

I got a horrible phone call early this morning from someone I used to work with. A friend of mine, who was stationed in Iraq, was killed yesterday in her sleep when her trailer was hit. SGT Trista Moretti was an amazing person. She had an impact on so many lives in so many places. It's going to be tough for everyone (like me) who can't make it to Jersey to say goodbye. I've been crying off and on all damn day. It seems so unfair. I hate this war and don't agree with it, but I don't think she died in vain. She died for everyone else out there. They fight for each other, not a cause, not their government. That's what I miss about the Army. I miss my comrades. Trista was hilarious and beautiful and had this great Jersey accent. We used to play word games and gossip and eat lunch together every day. We would laugh all day long while we "worked" haha. I remember when she first got to the unit I told everyone some bitchy chick with an accent was in the...

Hurricane Sandy

This will be a gleefully uneventful post, but I thought I should at least inform everyone of our whereabouts during Frankenstorm. On Friday the landfall predictions were further south, which had the eye passing near our tiny town after obliterating Dover, DE. We happen to be surrounded by water. The Patuxent River on one side, Chesapeake Bay on the other, plenty of swamps and creeks in between. Not a good prospect. Josh and I had gone out that night to try and secure supplies and already, there were no batteries or flashlights. We also don't have a grill and thought "we'll try Lowe's tomorrow"I mean, most people already own grills... right? Everything in our house is run on electricity (including the water pump for the well) except for the fireplace. I don't know what builders are thinking when they do that. I at least want a gas stove and water heater! So, anyways. We got a few hours of sleep before trying to brave the crowds...

Hiking on the Guadarrama Trail

As promised yesterday, I actually left the house and went on a hike with Mama C and Goober! YAY! I was a bad Mommy and ill prepared to shield us from the hot Spanish sun so we all have a touch of sunburn. Whoops. It was fun though. OK so here's where we began our journey. You can see the bridge between the roundabout and the little house with a red roof (which is a restaurant). All the cylindrical buildings were a plant nursery. We walked over the bridge and past the nursery where we crossed the street and then started up the dirt path. The other little building is literally a Gypsy Keep. Here's what it looked like from the road... and it was so ridiculously creepy, yet fascinating. I don't know why there is always tons of junk in trees around gypsy places. There was a gutted van in the backyard, a stroller jammed into a wall, shorts in the trees. We both wanted to trespass, but the kids would have inevitably fal...

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