Something I came across....like a flipped-over penny in the street, that I threw down two years ago and forgot about.

twentyseventhandpoplar (my new and permanent warning label)


i don't know if you're listening.


i don't even know if you can hear me.

or, for the sake of reality, READ THIS.

but, it's the right time, right now. this is the right time. so i'm taking it, viciously. grabbing the moment by the minute and viciously raping it with what i have to say. i'm writing it now, and it's so, so loud. so that you will hear this. you will know this, when you finally bring yourself out of denial.

i gave my heart away a long time ago -- though you're awful nice. a sweet person, and one who is capable of calming at least one level of my flighty tendencies. but deep down, under layer upon layer upon layer upon layer upon layer is the heather i was born as. and she gave her heart away. a long time ago. and i don't think i can get it back, because i don't want it back. ever.

you're such a fun person to be around, and a great rope of rescue for a night, a swell way to spend some time away. but the rawest of my feelings are still swirling in memories, and i doubt they'll ever calm.

it is love i am sick with, and it will be that way forever.
forgive me if i sound ridiculous, but how i am received is not important. the message i carry is.
i am not even TRYING to fall out of love -- this i know cannot be done, and i'm complacent in that -- but i am trying to live with the knowledge that i am not needed any longer. the love of my entire soul, for the rest of its life, is away from me, and has treated me in the cruelest of fashion. i know you wish to save me from this, and to settle the score in hurt, but it cannot be done. i do not wish to be saved from this, and i believe every sufferance will have its balance.
i wish to be here, and to fill my days with wonder and love, if only on my own.

i'm not too sure that you'll understand this for years, because it's me you desire to fall in love with, but i will not let it happen. you see, i am caring and compassionate toward those closest to me, but i am not able to love how i was meant to. not to anyone else but him. i will suffer in silence. i will reach out to him, and to you (in a completely separate sense), and it will never equate.

i will form relationships with multiple people. i can use my lips to find passion in the tenderest of moments -- in the height of rain, the first fall of snow, amid tears in pain, a new year's celebration...or two. but never again will i be able to wrap my heart along side my kiss. it belongs to someone, even though he'd rather not have it. he'd much rather ignore it; give it back so i can piece it back together for someone else.
but this doesn't matter. perhaps only through the cherished experience of true love will you realize that once it is given, it is matched forever.

i could give him anything in the world -- he only wants pain. i hold on and hold on, finger by broken finger and with a ripped apart voice, and it tears me apart. but i have given my heart away and it will always stay that way. through anger, and bitterness, and silence, and misfortune. i have accepted that my love is unrequited. i love unconditionally.

i appreciate your touch, and your kind, beautiful words. you will find someone that clicks with you, and when they say they don't believe in fate, don't hold it against them. it is a miraculous thing to have found such happiness, and don't waste a shared smile, or laughter of the closest kind.

i have held so close to me the reasoning that to have loved and lost is better than to never have loved at all. i have screeched the words of ultimate pain, formed only by love that is bewitched by the harshest of pain. i have endured "busy" after "busy" after "no more", but still he holds my hope. my friends and family are sick of the stories. literally, they wince at the very mention of his name. when did staying in love get old? when did my time to hurt run out?

love is a never-ending learning experience. and the bible, if anything, chooses its words delicately and correctly. patient, kind, does not envy, does not boast, is not proud, IT KEEPS NO RECORD OF WRONGS...and so on cliche so on. but truest in the most serious of sense.

i thank you for your time.

for your care.

for your patience.

do not leave, and do not forget me. i am still here to humble myself and i have much to learn from you and more to experience at your side. but please know that my heart has been taken, so long ago. every morning, my first face at my side is only one person, even though he is miles away. when i am excited, i rush to find a way to tell him. when i hurt, i still look for his kiss to fix the uh-oh. when i glance at an image of him from long ago, i feel calm and full. he will forever be it. always. it is a promise i made without really knowing. i uttered the promise of forever to him without any consultation to my brain. it happened. i said it. i meant it. even through my worst.

i don't know if he'll ever come back for me. i am starting to doubt he will ever be a part of what i knew was my life. i cry, so much, so still, because i am starting to forget how he brushes his teeth, or when his favorite time to eat is, or how long his showers are, or what he'll listen to in the morning. but my heart doesn't care. it won't ever. he can ignore me for years. he can forget himself, and find what matters, and i don't have to be a part of it -- i will always be his. no matter who is in his arms.

it is sad to read, i know, but it doesn't feel that way, so no need to worry. or to pity. being in love is an amazing feeling, no matter what. you are confined to bittersweet memories every day; you remember what it's like to feel adored. the world disappears.

i gave my heart away a long time ago. and i don't ever want it back. although i could really do without waking from these dreams of reconnection. they definitely hurt. and that, well i can't even begin to explain.


note to self: thank god no one will read this. sometimes secrets are meant to be kept.

Newer Turn of Events! AHA!

I have learned from my almost sick obsession with crosswords that "AHA" is, by crossword definition, "a palindromic cry". Yes.

Earlier in the year I mentioned that this outlet was changing direction and in a way, I meant that. It was the receiver for my paranoia of moving cross-country to a "big 'ole shaker of a city", and it turns out that I rarely needed it. Since these last months have passed by with almost nothing of a post, I'm turning it around again.

What I've been doing:
Freelancing
Using my writing to boost the image of PopWreckoning.com
Compiling and ReDoing and Upping the ante of my soon-to-be released site, Waitlisted Press
Living
Establishing even the most minute connections at the Social Media Lunch Table (I sit at the almost-cool-kid table)
I'm bored with this list already

As the week, and the month, comes to a close, November will be the re-vamp date for Don't Stop Staring, complete with name change. Feel free to dabble in the variety that is to come.
Any and all last-minute pinch suggestion will--as always--arrive in my e.mail inbox as you see fit.

i'm trying to sell myself.

Please lend your stylishly lined eyes for a re-introduction, of sorts. Above all else—as a previous cover letter is attached—an update, on the goings on and the whereabouts of That Girl Lumb.

           

            Who: Heather Samantha Nicole Lumb, a platinum hued little lady who soaks up energy and spits it out two-fold. With glitter and neon and the hippest tunes.

 

            Her style: As long as you haven’t worn it quite the usual way, she digs it. We’re talking sash belts, tube dresses, petticoats, and feathered accessories, all re-imagined. Although she currently prefers tiny paintbrush charms to a dangling feather.

 

            The reputation: Enthusiastic, stylistic, bombastic force of nature! The fastest researcher, a smooth and interested talker, and major organizer, this charmer loves being where the up-and-coming action will be. Just when you thought she didn’t wear heels anymore, she’ll teach you bikram yoga in some four-inch ankle booties. Toughie.

 

            Where you’ve seen her: Making the first cut in the last *your company here* writer position opening, but being edged out in the finish. As hheeeaattthherr on Twitter. The spark behind the fire of Don’t Stop Staring on blogspot. The search result to your Googling of her name.

 

            What’s included: A fury of only the best mixtapes. The mingling of the highest girls in indie music with *your company here* fashion (is that UUVVWWZ vintage shopping with the *your city ground* crew?) *again, your company* working with area fashion habitués to conjure up the ultimate in Thread Swaps and Vintage Block Parties. Road trip themed collections and tips to a pavement-led summer on wheels perhaps narrated by Punky Style, who kicks off the season with her traveling vintage flea market. A narrower version of *my slave for your command*—FurBall Edition, because a good chunk of your readers are proud pet owners who would love a RainBow-Wow hoodie for Fido. A conversationalist voice that readers connect with and can laugh to—an equal part mixture of quirk, experience and giddiness. BS in fashion merchandising to understand words like “chambray”, and the “distressed” and “embellished” difference. A barista on premise, and Post-It pick-me-up aficionado.

             

            And now, a word from the platinum hued little lady….

            From the 3 o’ clock slump to the titles of the printed dresses, I pick up what you’re throwing down. More formally, I understand the voice, the passion, the creativity that fuels a small company like *yers*  to grow to the powerhouse it’s becoming. I admit to receiving that message two months ago—“we felt that there were other applicants from this pool of candidates whose style fit better into the *this is you again* brand”…and that was the only time I hadn’t connected with and benefited from a *company that i love but didn't want me* decision. I’m quite aware that I do live and breathe the brand, and the constant stream of enthusiastic ideas I have seem tailor made for it. Better yet, I’m a first generation bookmarker. The site hasn’t left the second spot on the favorites bar since love at first click.

A fresh approach is my “give it another go” mantra, or my antidote to boredom. This will definitely be the one quirk I can promise to deliver to *the best co.-yours*…and it will even come with an infectious smile and dance routine right through the 5 o’clock slump.

all i want......this is all i ever want.....

(via amalinny and her flickr)

i'm so freaking nervous.

i'm so freaking nervous.

it's ridiculous to be this insanely anxious....but there's no one around to hand me directions on the chicago survival bible.

i got me a new job to handle the nighttime downtime whilst i work on my freelancing. it just so happens that i am revisiting my past for a server career. just to see what it's like in the city. new restaurants, although unnerving in general because it is like a career clique, don't fill me with dread, so to speak. but this, this place? i'll be lucky if i make it there without passing out. i have not put food to my lips in the past 16 hours and 45ish minutes, so the passing out is entirely possible.

i'm just so twitchy. this place is small; the most casual place i've ever served (i don't really understand the TOO casual atmosphere), and i could tell right away it was a bunch of people who were very, very close. breaking into that is going to be the hardest part.

i don't know where to park. manager man told me to drive. so i said okay, but i don't know where to park. paranoia is a blessing. i may take the train in today and drive tomorrow. see? a lot of this writing is just nervous chatter going around in my head.

i need an outlet of calm. i need someone to count on and to fetch me my coffee, a minion. and then when i meet someone new and alien to this city, i can help THEM out, and they can count on me. it all goes around in a circle, capeto?