'Happy'? Memorial Day!

Hi. I'm a little shy writing this, because I have no right to write it.

I'm an American girl, living in the Washington, D.C. area, and it's cool these days to be patriotic (so, of course, my natural tendency to is smirk, knowingly, at that) and it's also cool in this area to be patriotic but also to be sardonic about it, too, behind closed doors, and just ... I don't know, poke fun at our country and our countrymen and women.

But you know what isn't cool?

In our apartment complex I pass two cars every day in the wee early morning hours and I see a bumper sticker and I see a stenciling and they both say this: "To W_, beloved husband and father, 1989 - 2009." "To J_, we miss you, 1988 - 2007."

"Beloved husband and father" ascribed to a boy born after me and died before me. And you can say: 'oh, he got married too early,' but I won't say that.

It may be 'cool' or not for me to be patriotic but here, right where I live, are two people, cool or not who died, so I could be cool or not.

Today, I'm gonna do something different. I'm taking the day, and going to the parade, and burning up in the heat, and gonna get terribly sunburned (God, I hope not!), and stand up every time the flag passes and take off my sun hat (and really get sunburned, curse my pale-pale self!) and smile at the vets and guys (and girls, too!) in the parade on motorcycles or not, and wave back when they wave.

And then I'm going to come back home and reread my Vera story and finally watch that movie Grace Is Gone (trailer) and probably cry as I cry now, watching the trailer, and probably eat a whole thing of Cherry Garcia (bad girl!) and ...

And remember our vets, some of whom I know coming in for their daily cup-o-joe, some of whom I knew. And sincerely thank God for them, today, and try to remember that, and remember them, everyday.

Happy Memorial Day.

kisses, 'phfina

Mermaids

Sometimes, when I was a little girl, and I was swimming, I imagined myself a mermaid and I would swim with my mermaid friends and we would be so carefree and gay ... you know, just being so joyful. And we would comb each others' hair and kiss and have that mean nothing if it meant nothing and have it mean something if it meant something and then laugh again and sing and swim and play.

And sometimes when I cross the Potomac river now and I look out at the Chesapeake and I look for my mermaid friends and wonder what they are doing now, and smile a very private smile for my mermaid friends and myself.

kisses, 'phfina

Rose

I love Rosalie.

I wish I could say that I saw the Rosalie I love from the Twibooks, but that's not true. I read the books and said, after Eclipse, ch 7, 'hm, interesting,' but that was that.

But then my bb wrote some stuff, you know? And I was like, wow. And then he wrote Beautiful. And then he wrote Reminiscence.

And I was like ...

And I was like ... that. I mean, here's a woman, so hurt, so filled with hate and spite and loathing, but she looks at this plain, not pretty, girl and she calls me beautiful. I mean she calls Bella beautiful, and she calls me beautiful in such a way that there's no arguing with it, no denying it, she makes me see that she sees me as beautiful and will not accept me seeing myself in any other way.

I mean she make Bella see this.

And then ... in Reminiscence, there she is, a shell, 300 years later. Bella's dead. Bella did what humans do: she died. But Rosalie goes on. She just goes on and on and on, loving me with her entire being, seeing me everywhere, and loving me, and having to let me go, again, every second of eternity, and the very next second, seeing me again, loving me with all her being.

I mean loving Bella.

And I'm like. I'm like: I love Rosalie. Here's a girl who is so damaged, so broken, so cold, so hard, so on fire with hate, but seeing beyond herself to care for somebody in the only way she thinks that she can, failing so miserably at it, but still caring and loving and seeing beauty despite that. Forever. Forever and ever and ever.

So, so sad! So, so Rosalie!

Rosalie, it's okay. I so want to give you a sympathy hug and tell you it's okay, even though you'd shout and rail against me and say it's not okay and it'll never be okay and ...

And how many girls feel so trapped in who they are or where they are or ... whatever? Who feel it's not okay and it'll never be okay? Hm, 'look in the mirror, 'phfina,' you're saying to me?

I so want it to be okay for Rosalie. I so want her to know she is lovable and loved.

People say Bella Swan is everywoman, and perhaps she is. People say Rosalie is an effing bitch, and perhaps she is.

How many people say Rosalie is everywoman, so hurt, but so doing the best she can, even with the whole world against her?

And it may not be okay. And it may never be okay. But here's just one little tiny thing, Rosalie, just for you, from your little tiny Bella:

I love you.

kisses, 'phfina

Me

Hi. I'm 'phfina. I do a bit of writing. My blog color is Rose. I "like" Rose (understatement alert). I like roses, too. From what I write, you may or may not believe it, but I'm rather shy.

And thinking about it, I have a friend named 'shysky' and I thought, what does the sky have to be shy of? Nothing, right? It's there, looking down on people, and people are there, looking up at it. Do people care that it may or may not be shy?

Did I ever care? No. I just looked up at it, and the clouds, and the stars, and the rain, and the sun and the moon, and looked up in wonder or in annoyance or in disinterest, not a care in my head as to whether it was shy or not.

So what should I be shy of? Nothing, right? That should be my answer. But what, really, is my answer?

I'm shy of nearly everything. Should I be? No. Do I know it's selfish of me? Yes. Does that help? Not much. Some, maybe. A lot when I'm talking with you and you're asking me something or I'm asking you something and we're answering each other and just talking, you know?

But getting to 'just talking'? So, so hard for me. Looking at my alerts and seeing you there, knowing I must respond, if I have any integrity at all?

But what's worse is when I look and there's nothing there. And I feel so alone, so desolate.

Go ahead, say it. Call me a typical girl. Wanting it, but not wanting it.

And what's my solution?

I don't know.

Hi. I'm 'phfina. I'm a little bit shy, but I'm here, writing, writing to you and for you. I hope you like what I write.

kisses, 'phfina