I guess you could say I am waiting for my moment. I want someone/something longterm that has the potential to hold a great future. Some say 22 is too young to want the things I do, but if you truly knew me you would just get it, and I believe 'the one' will just get me.

I have a degree and I am working on my post grad. I am months away from the dream job I have always wanted. I have a great family that means more to me than anything in this world, and that family includes the cutest puppy in the world; his name is Monroe and he means the world to me so it would be awesome if you loved dogs too.

My mom always says that she cannot figure out why I cannot meet a nice man because I am so easily pleased, and she is right. The smallest things in life make me happy. It could be a cheesy reality tv show, a Leafs game, or a crazy night at karaoke. I love it all and those are just a few of the things that bring a smile to my face. The only thing that is missing is someone to share those experiences with.

Let's face it. I am not what todays society considers beautiful. I have short hair, a stocky build and I could stand to lose a few pounds. Do I feel beautiful? Am I a milfseeker? Absolutely. Do I think their are some people out there that would find me beautiful? Yes. I just feel that it is important for me to mention that I realize I am no Barbie; in fact I could not be farther from it, but I am not ashamed of it either. If I ever decide to change it will be for me, and in the meantime I would love to find a man that finds me beautiful just the way I am. I am confident that he is out there somewhere.

I could go on and on here but I would rather start getting to know you and also answer any more questions you may have.

I may or may not be the woman for you, but I challenge you to take a chance; contact me, and let's see what the new year brings.

Happy Hunting and I Hope to Hear From You.

I was going to use a series of images from Kween, a Japanese Queen cover band, as the image on the God Save My Queen web site. Decided not to.

Crossing guards, four of them, playing hopscotch, just after school opens. They smile at me in their yellow raincoats.

“Ring for Psychic” buzzer beside the Tires Repaired sign.

6am: Cheesy Mahler soundfile that comes up clicking to the Staten Island College computer science department home page. I was trying to e-mail a professor who made an automatic poetry-writing program. I was tired, and the Casio music soothed me.

Headlines of Knicks coach in the Post. He’s Apologetic! If he was doing a good job. Was doing.

Now there is no tremble. The ether and even Jeff Van Gundy have slowed down. Now the reason for interjections have turned hasty.

Two large women talking on the train, pretty much saying “hmm hmm” to each other. Then one says, out of the blue, “He said he got nine inches.

He took it out, and it wasn’t no bigger than a kosher dill pickle.”

A taxi with a red siren, running against traffic on 14th Street. This is it, I say to myself, this is my day, and it’s all in primary colors, Zappa song-specific.

Observed porno tape title on way to train: That Darn Trannie!

I mean, her definition of irony, for instance, sung from this very chair as I sit typing this, was more like a math equation, some syllogism. [Philosophy student, of course.]

Canadian singer-songwriter name-dropped – not Joni -- before eating 6th Avenue soup. Late evening, and the cut of winter in the air as I walk upstairs.

Power ballads. Everyone knows them. But I always—I always have to fucking explain their merits.

Also: I have to explain the appeal of crank calls—and to other poets!

But when do the trains ever run on time? Why keep complaining?

When would I ever have gotten all of my young ladies to the museum?

What are you doing over there, Nester? He-he.

Reading a John Cage journal entry that I thought was funny to my mother, who moaned in pity at what I thought was the punchline. I always wanted to study botany, she said.

Misheard punchline: She thought she was sacrificing the vomit!

The sun getting brighter. Split peas. Tomorrow’s schedule, teaching, tutoring, phone calls. Call my mother, again. Milk. Dash off letter to Massachusetts. Deny I am Jewish, despite old family tales from Germany. Coffee grinds and milk stains. A light bulb burnt out in the closet.

Two things I remember at the same time, 3:12pm, last Thursday: My first communion crucifix, and the wife of a famous poet, hoping that, while looking over her shoulder speaking with her, I am not perceived as flirting by her husband. This was the night before September 11, and I saw Paul McCartney on the street.

I thought I remembered a joke haiku just then. Then I forgot it. Was it really morning? I’m going to have to question the whole thing.

I can put two and two together, but am I capable of interjecting so much as to eliminate the need to a business letter?

One wonders—or at least I do—whether those elliptical interjecting people, as one person calls them, are capable of doing anything besides that, because they never, ever, worked a day in their lives, and never experienced the sheer linearity of a business letter, let alone typing one.

That dog’s breaths are visible this morning. But peoples’ aren’t.

ALL girls come down to one thing ; bitches .. and i guess you cant change that fact. sure you can bitch, its wat a girl does isnt it ? but to do it 24/7 ? you wonder why people dont like you. ALL guys come down to one thing ; dickheads .. hey you cant change that fact either .. youll never understand them, but they can never understand you either .. merghss you want things to be perfect ? no matter how hard you try, they cant be. but they can always be close to perfect. after all, what would life be without its ups and downs. appearances ; i dont think i care anymore .. lols .. this morning i woke up and there was a mirror. i complained about being fatt, not being as pretty as her, those gross pimples etc. i also thought about how people told me i have small ears then turning away from them cos of the embarrassment .. know i just feel as if we should be grateful and thank god for giving us ten fingers, two eyes, a nose, a mouth and watever you have that others dont

I truly used to think that this elemental thing called "love" was some sort of myth, or perhaps a trick your mind plays on you to make procreation of the species easier.
Then I met Julia.

(I still love the way it rolls off the tongue. It was even better when she said it with her light southern accent. I'd often mispronounce it so she'd feel forced to correct me...)

It wasn't love at first sight; it was a gradual thing. Being friends was initially fine with me until I saw beneath her quiet exterior. She wasn't an outgoing person but she was insanely creative, and was only able to get that inner voice out through indirect ways. Just like me.

We shared one outlet in the midst of it all: poetry.

So we went on, writing poem after poem. In truth, most of them weren't very good -- but they got the point across, and in much smoother fashion than either of us could have done face to face.

It went like this, a game of cat and mouse, for nearly two months, until after several late-night cries we finally broke and admitted that we were in love. It was almost like we were both ashamed of it, as if it was going against our moral beliefs. I think that's because it was the first time for both of us.

They say that losing your virginity is traumatic, but falling in love is worse in many ways. At least it was for me ... because here I was, trapped in the northwest, and she was going to school in North Carolina.

Yeah, love.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad had we lived next door to each other. Hell, in the same state would've been nice, but it didn't work that way.

Now it's a few months after we said our good-byes and the only thing I've got left is a sour taste in my mouth and a scrapbook full of pictures and poems.

Something tells me it's not supposed to happen this way.

 

In accordance with my own previous post, here is a part of an introduction I wrote once for a listserv I was on. Keeping this in mind, what I post (say) is only the part I want others to read (hear), here is what I wrote.

Hi, I am joy, the joy of His life (or at least that is what he
tells me:)) But please, just call me what ever suits you. I, however, may or may not answer! Let's see what can I say about joy that you don't already know?
Let's move onto the label route, that seemed to work well for others, I am a
wife, I am a lover, a friend, a partner, a mother (of way too
many people sometimes and not all of them children) a non working
entity, a lover of all things Jeri Ryan. I adore Sandra Bullock, Sean
Connery, Harrison Ford, former President Bill Clinton, and the late
Diana, Princess of Wales. I am eclectic, I am solitary, I
am eccentric, I am me. I am a wanna be Catholic, I am a Witch. I have
only just begun living my life, I have lived it to the point of total
bliss and it still keeps getting better with each and every day. I have
known a perfect moment in time (for you ST fans...) My age is nobody's
business, I am old enough to know what I want and young enough to enjoy
it. I will age, but I refuse to grow old. I read, I have been told that
among other things, I have a book fetish. I have a fetish for all
things in life that interest me. I listen to a wide variety of music. I
sew, I cross stitch, I grow things, I make things, I cook and I am as moody as all get out.
I have never known of something that I didn't want to know more about
and I want to know more about those things I know nothing about. I will
try most anything once and the things I like over and over again. I am a
great friend and a bad enemy. I tolerate order, thrive in chaos. I
listen to others opinions, I follow my own lead. I procrastinate, I
empathize, I endure.
I am Southern. As Southern as the sweet scent of magnolias, as Southern as the soft drawl that marks us as our own. As Southern as one of those who's daddy knows your daddy's cousin on your grandmothers mothers side and that makes us family. As Southern as cotton growing in the summertime.
I love to travel. I can't get enough of where I have been and where I have yet to go. I have been lucky enough to see Europe.
Unlucky that I have never been to all of the States right here at
home. I am a transplant that is thriving in the rich Mississippi hollow
that offers me a home. For now anyways, who knows where the future will
take me.
I do not believe in the concept of time. I get there when I
get there and leave when it is time for me to go. Time stands still,
only ideas move forward.
There isn't a lot of gray in my life, mostly black or white. I believe in right and wrong. I am an extremist. I am persistent. I am passionate about my ideals, my beliefs, my own thoughts.
I am curious, nosey, a seeker. I want to know what it is and why it's there and what it does and how it does it...
I am sensitive, caring and tend to become overwhelmed by the thoughts
and emotions of others around me...too involved sometimes. I am an
empath. I create confusion. I whirl along in the eye of the storm. I am
beautiful. I write my thoughts when I feel like sharing them. I
have loved, I have been loved. What more can anyone ask for? I
trust NO ONE until they earn it. I respect NONE until they earn it. I
give back what I receive. I am no more, no less, than others. I do
not forgive easily. I am a Sagittarius born on the cusp, a yule baby,
moon sign aries, rising sign cancer. What a combination hmmm? I am
adopted, I am a sister, a daughter, a loner. I am wild. I am a survivor.
I am selfish and giving. I am a contradiction. I have one Hell of a temper. I
am emotional. I am feminine. I am like no other. I am irreplaceable. I
am a traditionalist, I am a non-conformist.
I am a lover of history and the old ways. I get hurt easily.
I don't tell secrets.
I laugh, I love, I cry. I believe in Magick. I am a lousy housewife. I
am an inventive cook. I am a decent hostess. I am an incredible
companion. I am awesome in bed.
I give my all, the very essence of my soul to the one I love. I am direct. I say
what is on my mind. My weaknesses are my own. I need no one, I need
someone. I am restless. I am driven. I am spirited. I am free. I am
untamable. I am a dreamer. I see the whole. I am independent. I am
perceptive, intuitive. I am generous. I am a slut, a whore, a lady. I have passions, desires, and morals. I live life.
"Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death" (Auntie Mame)
I do not fear the dark, only the evil I have found there. I
call NO ONE Sir or Ma'am just because they expect me to. I do use those
titles when I deem one to be worthy of it.
I respect my elders based on the fact that they have lived longer and
seen more and know more of life than I do. I respect children because
they have not yet learned that they can try and demand it. I am
stubborn. I am opinionated, I have been known to be sarcastic at times. I thrill, I delight, I love, I hate. I am open to others thoughts, ideals and principles. I am tolerant. I do believe that even the fallen sparrow is heard. I take in strays, I love all animals. I am patient, I am impatient. I give, I take. I crave the sun and light. I thrive in the safe arms of the night.
I am the only person who will spend every minute of my life with me. I
am the only one who will always, without fail, be with me. I am
responsible for my own actions. I answer to no one unless I want to. I
comfort the disturbed, I disturb the comfortable. I don't really give a
damn about others perceptions of me. I do what has to be done. I am an
open book, I am mysterious, and just when you think you know what to
expect, there is more. Life changes. I change. I am many,
I am one.

I am me.

I am what I chose to be at any given moment in time.

Brightest of blessings,
Joy