Throwback Thursday 3.10.16

Here is a poem I wrote in the Spring of 2009.

Here is also an excellent example of why I don’t claim to be a poet.

Look… I was in an unhappy place okay? Just remember that before you explode with laughter.

Who’s idea was it to post old writings for Throwback Thursdays? Oh, mine.

A hold

built upon foundations of endurance.

Stone walls of strength

protecting the determination inside.

But, wishes leak through.

A fortress of “what is”

can weaken by a crack of “what could be”.

How easily the fortress falls

when fractured by desperation.

 

Why Your Family Name Did Not Come From a Mistake at Ellis Island

Ellis Island NYC
View of Ellis Island from a boat

This is a super interesting little article for two reasons:

  1. My husband came over in 2007 (A HUNDRED YEARS LATER) from Europe and had a name issue due to alphabet differences.
  2. My first book Kevin starts at Ellis Island because he’s from another planet, so in an odd, slightly humorous to me way he “immigrated”. (Him being sent there against his will as a prisoner is a whole other issue.)

Anyway, check this out if you like. I thought it was interesting.

And, you can get Kevin HERE.

Throwback Thursday 2.18.16

Here’s a poem I wrote in 2009 that’s a little emo

Enjoy! (or gag, whichever)

 

The voice on the wind

sings of anguish.

 

Whispering memories.

Echoing heartbreak.

 

 

Speak to me of beauty.

Speak to me of charity.

Speak to me of hope.

 

Things lost upon humanity.

 

An ever growing weed of hate coils

to strangle compassion.

 

Bringing the fall of grace

and the death of mercy.

 

Deliver acceptance.

 

 

Carry with you the hour of awareness

so we may survive the weakness of our pride.

 

Sing to us the song of unity.

 

Only then

can we sing the lullaby of peace.

 

Throwback Thursday 1.14.16

Oops, almost dated it 2015. Still in transition, I guess.

Okay! Here it is! A recap of my day in August of 2010. After reading this little ditty, I’m amazed at how my writing has changed. It’s a lot more interesting for one thing. But, I chuckled at it here and there. Hopefully, you do too. Enjoy!

August 25th 2010

I woke up this morning FREEZING. I swear I could see my breath. (I really couldn’t, but I almost felt like it) After shivering for a few moments, I checked my phone, both to note the time and make sure I had no messages. Why I would have a message is beyond me, it was 8:43. The only person to think of messaging me that early would be Jessie, because she’s two hours ahead of me. But, she knows better than to communicate before 10:00 my time, anyway. Smart kid. 
 
As I was saying, it was 8:43 and I was cold. “Freezing” is the word I think I used. Yes, freezing was the word. That’s what I was. After dropping the phone back on my “nightstand” (I use the term loosely, for it really isn’t a nightstand at all; more of a tower of plastic drawers I got at Wal-mart, but it’s the surface closet to the bed and therefore used as if it were, indeed, a nightstand) I tried to go back to sleep. Those efforts were fruitless, though. What’s the first thing you have to do when you wake up…? That’s right. I had to pee. 
 
But, it was so cold! To go to the loo would mean getting out from under the snugly blankets, and away from the two warm cat bodies keeping me alive. With a little (or loud and pathetic) whimper, I crawled out of the bed and dashed to the little girl’s room; which, I feel the need to add, is clear down the hall and entirely too far away from my bedroom. 
 
After that business was taken care of I went back to my room and stared at my pile of dirty laundry. It took me quite some time to find what I was looking for. Mind you, I did not have my glasses on, nor had I any coffee, so this could have gone on for several hours. Any who, I finally found my fleece pants, and plucked a pair of socks out of the drawer. The pants went on over my Star Wars (that’s right, STAR WARS) shorts, and the socks were pulled onto my little feeties. And, what do you know? My purple hooded jacket is right there next to my laundry pile (Alright, it was IN the laundry pile) Think I’m going to resist that on this frigid morning? On goes the jacket. Zip goes the zipper. The hood is flung over my head, and I crawl back under the blankets. I go back to sleep for another hour. 
 
Ah, the life of the unemployed.
 
After waking up (again) I go on with my day. Two cups of coffee, check the Facebook, the Tumblr, the e-mail, and watch my programs. In case you’re curious those would be: Young and the Restless, and Passport to Europe with Samantha Brown. Today’s featured destination was Salzburg, Austria. Dudes! That place looks extraordinary. A four hour tour of the Sound of Music filming locations?! Sign me the up! Not to mention many historical Mozart attractions to be seen. Seriously, so cool. 
 
Now that my morning “routine” was completed I decided to get done what needed to be done. Just before I make my way to the bathroom to wash my face, however, I smell it. That specific smell I smelled the day before, but ignored. Today, it was stronger. *sniff sniff* Yep. That’s something dead. Where is it…? I check under the couch, in case the cat did something gross with a mouse. Nothing. But… this is where it smells the most. What’s behind the couch? The window. What’s in the window well? A nice dead duck. Lovely. 
 
Can I just say how sad I am for this duck? Not only are they one of the only birds I’m not afraid of, but they’re just cute and have some cool characteristics. Also, the way my window well sits under the upstairs windows, the duck had to have gotten stuck down there, and then died. So sad. I could have saved her had I known she was in trouble. I’m sorry little girl duck. I’m really sad that that happened to you. 
 
So, my uncle takes care of the duck, and (after lighting a scented candle for awhile) my basement smells much better. I now proceed with my day’s events. 
 
I clean myself up, put on the makeups, and style the hair. After selecting an outfit of a black skirt, blue polo, and flip flops I head out the door. Where do I go? Only to the amazing Walgreen’s! One prescription refill for Kim please. Fifteen minutes later, drugs in hand, I decide: “I’m this close to the coffee house, I may as well pop over there for a tea and a quiet read”. So, that’s exactly what I do. My white orchid tea was delectable, and my current read is particularly enchanting, so it was nice. A nice looking guy came in, about half an hour after I got there. I made eye contact, then went back to reading; thinking he’ll think I’m cute and come over to flirt.
 
He didn’t.
 
After a little while I pack it up and go home. My tea was about gone, and I wanted to tidy up my living room now that the unpleasant odor had left (aw, I’m still sad about it). That ended up only taking a few moments, I’m a rather clean person, I guess. So what do I do? Throw my bed comforter in the washer and play chess. 
 
After the computer kicked my ass a couple hundred times, I elect to call it quits and help out with dinner. Uncle Scotty showed me his way of making biscuits and gravy, which I found fascinating. It was damn good, too. I’m glad my appetite is returning. I missed it, wholeheartedly. 
 
And that brings me to where I decide to blog whilst I digest. Here I am. Blogging. Digesting. What an eventful life I lead.

Throwback Thursday (A Blog Experiment)

Yes, yes. I do realize it’s Wednesday. But, I have an idea.

I think my husband rolls his eyes and holds his breath when a crazy like me says “I have an idea.” But, bear with me…

Throwback Thursday can be really fun. I used to participate on this blog until I realized that no one here knew me and/or cares about what silly-ness I had found myself a part of years/months/days ago.

Today it hit me. This is a blog about my writing. Things I’ve just released and things coming soon. What if I included things I’ve written in the past. Bam! Lightening. Idea. Throwback Thursday could be a segment in which I post an article/story/rant from long ago.

It might be fun to read what I used to be. The writer I once was. How I’ve improved. Things that have driven me to where I am now. Great idea, yeah?

Yes. Yes it is. Because sometimes I say important things. I’ve got some posts lined up about religion, dating, writing, and life in general that are honest and real.

H.G. Wells Quote (Past)

See? The past is important in learning where we wish to go. I wish to get better, so I’ll post my bad writing and mercilessly tear it apart. Or remember a tough time and build strength from what I’ve been through.

So! I pose the question, faithful readers, would this be a thing you might care about? Would a short post from the past be worth a read?

Ooooh, I’m all tingly. This could be fun.

 

Bowie

I know it seems cliché, but I’m devastated by the passing of the exquisite David Bowie.

I’ve been a fan since I was eight years old.

He’s been an inspiration, role model, and friend. (I didn’t know him personally, wish I did, but I feel like I did. He’s always been there. I needed Space Oddity, Under Pressure, Labyrinth, and others more than once.)

Bowie Quote 1

I used to say if Bowie stopped me on the street and proposed marriage, I’d say yes without question. Now that I’ve married my husband, I’d settle for Bowie and me being super fun BFF’s.

And, one time, this friend of mine mentioned how upset he was when Brad Delp from the band Boston died. He really took it hard. I said, that would probably be my reaction when Bowie finally goes. He told me it would never happen. “Please,” he said, “Bowie is immortal.” And, I think a part of me really believed that. I mean really. While I know that his music, and presence, will live on forever, it still seems unnatural that he’s gone.

Bowie Quote 2

I’ll miss him.

And I will never, ever, forget him.

 

Where I Am.

tumblr_nknzivlYah1upqdfjo1_1280

He’s right, though!

I am so grateful my life ended up where it did. As a child I never intended to write. I thought I’d end up a ballet dancer, or a singer. Well, my career as a dancer came to a screeching halt at 18 when I injured myself. I still sing, but not often enough. Being creative, I turned to writing.

Getting stories out of my head gave me purpose. I become so attached to my characters, I feel guilty when I don’t write enough. They need their stories told, and I’m the only one who can do it!

The point is… I intended to be a principal ballet dancer, or a broadway star.

I’m neither of those things.

What I am is a writer who has the love an outstanding man, a loving family, little baby animals (they’re not babies, they’re actually quite grown) who love me unconditionally, and a three year old niece watching my every move. If that’s not motivation to do my best, I don’t know what is.

I’ve got love coming from every direction. How could I want for anything?

Okay, I’m starting to sound like a hippie.

To rough up this post a little, I’ll add that I am not able to make a living with my writing.

Yet.

(ahem, you can buy my first book, Kevin, buy clicking the link on my sidebar that says “buy my book here”)

Thanks for reading.