Saturday, January 06, 2007

Charlie and Bongie Nut

Oh the joys of instant bonding and fast friendships! On January 2, 2007 Bongie Nut (Bong Sun Hwa) came home. She tried to talk me into bringing home a sister for her to play with (Elfdoll Min Del Re), but alas, money does NOT grow on trees. Bongie Nut is a handful. She has too much energy and is constantly chattering and eating and just sometimes being a pain. A beloved pain to be sure, but a pain. The very next day, my Dollstown Lucille head came in the mail. She's borrowing Yuliya's body for now, but when I put it all together, Celia "Charlie" Louise came to life! Charlie is a tomboy. She's played with boys all her life and loves nothing more than playing the drums, rough-housing, snowboarding, gaming, and graphic novels. She blends right in with her crew. On the other hand, she's right at that point of blooming into womanhood, and secretly finds herself fascinated by girly things more and more often.

Now, Bongie is not exactly a girly thing-- and she's definitely more than just a doll. She has feelings, she's mischevious, and she's stubborn. There was an instant reaction between Charlie and Bongie and no one knew where this was heading.

Bongie Nut: NOOOOoOOo!!!!

Bongie: Uh! Grunt...

Bongie: Heh-hey, Charlie?

Charlie: What?

Bongie: High-Five!

Thankfully, both parties "checked out" and a strong bond has been formed. Charlie and Bongie-- pals for life.


Thursday, January 04, 2007

This incredibly touching poem was posted on the Den of Angels on 1/4/07, 5:25a.m. I totally get it...

[what they've meant to me]
by starfall
Placerville, CA
they were my voices.
the voices of a child, maybe
their purpose clothed
in expensive shoes,
lacy dresses,
ridiculous props.
but they were my speech
when words had failed me
and they were my loves
when love seemed not worth keeping.
you see, I had given it up.
that living game.
I had a paycheck
I had a home
but in the distance between
my two destinations
I could find no good reason
to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
in the faces
that should have kept me walking
I somehow could only find
shadows of anger
and a disgust
at their joy.
so, I invented it.
I left this world
not by knife or pill or cliff
but by another road:
when I was little, they called it
as a bigger person, I called it
a better place.
and in faces sculpted by two artists
one, a talented hand and careful tool,
the second
only a desperate mind
I split my hurts into personality.
this is Mischa:
he does not trust you.
this is Viola:
she cannot be trusted.
Chie, who was betrayed;
Hazel, who fought back, and was punished
Cherian, who sought forgiveness for his sins
India, whose sins were beyond forgiveness
and me, the housemother,
who gathered them up
in an attempt to reconcile all
these broken selves
into a single story.
how many hours, days, dollars
did I spend?
I could not tell you;
I do not want to.
you would not think
they were worth it.
you would not.
but they were.
you see, it was not about the names
or the clothes
wasted or well spent.
it was that
in the shape of their
eye sockets
I found humanity.
not theirs.