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The Journal of Maria Terezia Ferencz

Funny What you forget about
12/21/2014 02:59 p.m.
You know it is funny what you forget about. Forget about on purpose, forget by accident, forget from pain; the mind is such a strange place. I am not sure what really lives or who really lives in my mind. I find things written on scraps of paper tucked in forgotten places and I do not remember writing them. I look at them and I think...Was this really me? Is that my handwriting? I wonder is it possible that through the course of life are there a whole slew of mes? And yes I just pluralized me and I don't care. If we change are we a whole new person, a completely different version of who we used to be, and in exactly what basement, dungeon, closet is the old me locked? Is she screaming to get out? Or is she just sleeping and when she awakens will there be hell to pay? I have a feeling this may be the case with some of us.

Today is my birthday I have been here for more than half of what my life expectancy is and I still don't know exactly who I am. I like it that way though.
I am currently Brooding
I am listening to Fake English Accents

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I miss it here
11/07/2010 04:24 p.m.
Trying to find time. For life and for love.
I am currently Disillusioned
I am listening to my sister

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I am still here
08/08/2008 06:48 p.m.
I am still here. I am just not fertile right now. My mind lies dormant waiting for the rain.
I am currently Brooding

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Change and the lack of change
09/02/2007 01:28 a.m.
I am reading through some poems and my journal from this time last year. To see what has changed and what remains constant. The most important thing (to me anyway) has not changed except that it has grown stronger. The annoying things have become more annoying. There are most certainly things that need to be done, changes that need to be made. My tree longs to shed it leaves and become naked for the winter. I need to go dormant. Now if I can just figure out how to survive the frost, because I know it will be very cold. I need to focus on the fact that even though it may be cold, and it may be painful that it can bring about much beauty just like the first frost that paints the trees in fall. FOCUS....change is necessary to growth, pain is necessary to healing.....life hurts, c'est la vie... Touch me and I will follow, In your afterglow. Heal me from all this sorrow......
I am currently Brooding
I am listening to my mind

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The Fletcher Memorial Home?
06/05/2007 12:53 p.m.
Normally I hate to change anything once it is written. It feels almost like abandoning a mentally retarded child to a State run home to me. As if I should let "my child" exist as it came into this world, without special treatment to make it more "normal" BUT this time I had to do it. This was such a mess it screamed out at me for help! So I am saving this original creation here in my journal, just to prove to it that I am not ashamed of it and I would not have ever given it a face lift. If it had not begged for one it would still be the same.
(Why do I hear that Pink Floyd song in my head about the The Fletcher Memorial Home?)


Laws of Motion
by Maria Howard
that was when
I learned or I should say
remembered
how pain could stretch a minute
taffy like until it lasted much too long
sticky sweet stetching on and on
until it made your stomach hurt
and you wished it to stop

Interesting how emotion could alter time
how joy greedily could eat away at an hour so quickly
piranha like stripping it down to white bare bone
in a second

but sadness can dress that same 60 minutes
in a gown of black to dwell for days in shadow
crying for the light

oh yes
Einstein had nothing on emotion
Emotion would grab his E=MC2
stuff it directly up his butt
where it belonged
back into the psuedo-world of thinking unfeeling idiots
who understood NOTHING
and never would
the speed of what?
a heart on fire
a heart burned to ash
a heart so cold it can no longer feel
a heart no more

yeah whatever
how fast is that anyway?
Where are you when I need you Einstein?
What----if you can't balance it on your head to be shot off you don't know the answer?
Well then, neither do I

wondering to myself why did I taste this in the first place
If I never knew how sweet it was I would not long for more
and the alternative would not make me ill


06/04/2007

Author's Note: "Gullermo Tell tiene los ojos tristes" And yep I know all about Newton....thanks.....it was Not well thought out at all just felt. "As Newton became engrossed in his studies, the romance cooled and Miss Storey married someone else. It is said he kept a warm memory of this love, but Newton had no other recorded "sweet-hearts" and never married." Smart guy......

Posted on 06/04/2007



I am currently Detached
I am listening to Water

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I hate dusting
05/16/2007 10:19 p.m.
Today I was dusting (yuck) only because I was forced to though. The rain came down hard sideways, thunderstorm, and the man (uses term loosely) of the house forgot to shut the bedroom windows. He sat there and watched everything on the antique Singer get soaked instead. So I may have said a bit sharply "Are you an idiot?" and he may have responded "Who do you think you are talking to your man like that?" if this were a reality tv show anyway. Must be....cause I did say that and he did say this. So after I explained to him that a "real" man would have gotte off of his butt and shut the window I had to dry and dust everything. I, being the obsessive compulsive at times, had to do all of it. One thing leads to another and another until it is all done......but I digress. Back to the original thought.....where was I? Where am I?
Oh yeah...now I remember. I was dusting. It is funny, I have all these jewelry caskets, pictures, perfumes etc. on my vanity; so many that I forget about them. Then when I dust I pick them up and marvel at...."Oh I forgot I even had this" you know one of those scenes. So I pick up this little silver carousel horse with a clock on it, that I had forgotten all about. As soon as I do I get the achng inward caving of the chest that alerts me to the fact that I was better off forgetting. You know the feeling like someone took an enormous ice cream scoop and hollowed out the place where your heart is supposed to be. The horse, clock, carousel came from what used to be a real living breathing person. A person who used to laugh, scream, yell, run, jump and play. But does not anymore. The problem is the mind works way too fast for the heart. That is the problem. The mind in the second of picking up the horse/clock tells me about all of the association: Pretty Pony Time/Stephen King (hurry your time is running out), the clock on the horse (time is your greatest enemy hurry time is running out), Inanimate object/pretty carousel horse that lasted longer than your best friend who gave this to you and is now DEAD (hurry your time is running out) all at once, BOOM. Too much information from a non feeling brain to a too much feeling unsuspecting heart. How can it be that a Hallmark store carousel/horse clock can make it longer on the face of this earth than a living breathing caring human being? I do not want the clock, I want my friend back. It is simply completely unfair. She died before the battery in the clock (which I will NEVER replace) she is in the cold dark ground and the clock is on my vanity to remind me of how little time we all have. And there it stays waiting for me to forget and grow comfortable, waiting for me to wipe the dust off and see my old wounds new and clean again.
Like I said, I HATE DUSTING.
I am currently Sad
I am listening to the wind

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Love Monkey Killed By Hungry Hippo
02/22/2007 01:51 a.m.
Sadly what may be the world's last true love monkey was killed today in a freak accident. It seems that a confused Hungry Hippo mistook the poor little love monkey for something it was not. Onlookers to the strange affair claim the Hippo who appeared to be famished by all accounts, tried to eat the poor love monkey. When putting the monkey in her mouth proved to be too much trouble as he moved about in a frantic manner, she stuffed the poor monkey into her nether regions. Some say it was an attempt to feed, others claim it was a poor infertile Hippo's attempt at motherhood and then there are those who claim it was a sick sexual fetish. Regardless of the reasoning behind what the Hungry Hippo did, there is still one less love monkey in the world today. We should all mourn this tragic death.

Disclaimer: no monkeys or hippos were injured in the writing of this sick little fantasy--no person should try this at home with any object animate or inanimate--the author of this sick little ditty will not be held liable for any actions taken now or in the future by love monkeys or hungry hippos who have read this or heard of the contents of this from any other source.
I am currently Crafty
I am listening to ha ha ha ha my laughter

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Frosty Valentine's Day
02/14/2007 11:59 p.m.

I made these guys this afternoon for my Valentine, I just looked and they are still there almost 8 hours later, only now they are leaning in to each other from all the snow that fell on them.
I am currently Lovesick

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11-26-06 2:11 am
11/26/2006 07:23 a.m.
I am awake when I have no business being wide eyed. I should be firmly embedded in La La land. Alas I am not. I have not really been here either. Here being Pathetic? Pathetic being here. I can blame it on a ton of things, lack of time, lack of imagination, lack of..........nevermind. I will put it all down to I needed to stay away and that is all?
I am awake when I have no business being wide eyed, I am repeating myself in text to annoy myself as punishment. I should be asleep. I should try to sleep. I should medicate myself. Perhaps I will eat, a potato....tryptophan induced coma.....a whole field of potatoes, hand dug. That way if the tryptophan does not do it sheer exhaustion will. My nails will be filthy but who cares? If I keep up this no sleeping trend I will be insane and unkempt anyway. Probably would smell a whole lot better though. I might want to think about this before I start digging, I am kind of funny about smells. Maybe I can lull myself to sleep if I count turnkeys....not sheep, they are boring. Although cute and fuzzy when I think of them I become hungry, I like the way they taste more than I like the way they look. So I will stick with turnkeys.
Oh yes I just read this, I am already quite insane. But I still smell good. Thank God.
I am currently Weird
I am listening to why is there no insane in the mood category???

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What does a Turkey Say???
11/23/2006 12:42 a.m.
Gobble gobble gobble???
:(
Happy Thanksgiving.........
:(
I am currently Brooding
I am listening to Brittany

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