Defacing Valentine's Day 2/14/10

A pink array of roses is thrown at me with a chuckle while I peacefully sleep. A few minutes pass because as I glance at the clock, I have only been sleeping for five hours it is 9 am. Sleep is such a rarity at my dads house. Most of the night, my child-like rage fuels the most ridiculous writings. While I flip from movie channel to movie channel. On the list last night.....Fatal Attraction, Zoolander, Scream and Watchmen. The temperature had risen dramatically in my room because of a small space heater, things just cant ever go right. Events from last night fill my head as I sit up taking in my surroundings. A significantly smaller room, with pasty walls and hard board floor. A White (except for small crayon marks) blanket engulfs barely half of my body. I brush a greasy hair off of my forehead with disgust, for I remember showering last night.

Upon stretching, my legs grazed a rather crinkly paper. I looked down and there they were, pink cheap valentines day flowers. Attached was a card which I read with something less than zeal. Enclosed was a small amount of writing detailing how though I was hard on my father it was for his own good. The writing was ended with an I love you. Little substance, little feeling. Now I wasnt expecting a big gift, quite the opposite. This is the norm, cheap flowers. I dont even like pink, which they were so sickenly colored. I threw them against the wall in another fit of kid rage, so typical of me. Wiping away tears I got up, I couldnt breathe in my room I needed some comfort food. Lucky for me the new gal pal of my dads made some gooey blueberry muffins. While I devoured my hot fruity pastry I thought about my dilemma. What to do with the horrid Valentines Day flowers?

My first 10 thoughts involved fire, and I quickly pushed past them fully embracing how silly I get when angry. Then it hit me later in the day during craft hour with my new stepsisterish kid Skyler, why not turn my puke inducing pink flowers into someting of beauty. I know what your thinking, flowers are already the most beautiful creations on the planet. Perhaps so but if someone who you comfortably dislike gives them to you, its a different story. So I write now after picking flowers apart, smashing them with glitter, glueing them to poster board and whatever else I might want to do. I have successfully turned my hatred into art, and along the way have defaced the pure perfect pink flowers characteristic of Valentine's Day.