Saturday, December 23, 2017
Feelings/Gray Skies
The skies are gray. These eyes never dry. The scream surges up my throat. It takes too much to keep them at bay. Joy was lost somewhere between 27 and 35. My blood boils with anger. My fists clench. The skies are gray. I am blue. No Pollyanna words can assuage my feelings. Unmoored. I drift in a sea of faces. I don't want to be in these places. Antisocial. It takes so much energy to be vocal. The gray skies remain. Am I insane? The gray skies wait outside my window. The anger grows. I want to punch faces. The rain falls from my eyes. I don't want to be in this place.
Friday, September 30, 2016
Thursday, March 31, 2016
Adolescent Scars
It has been a long time since I was a teenaged individual but I
remember those days more so than my years in the twenties. Although the
twenties is when there were actual songs I could relate to (thankyou,
Avril Lavigne and Michelle Branch). Of course like today there are films
aimed at teens, it was the same for me in the late nineties. She’s All That, Ten Things I hate About You, Clueless, etc. But
of course since Hollywood glosses most things over, none of those teen
movies reflected my life. There was no cute, dimpled faced boy who would
smile and hold the hand of a girl with glasses too big for her face,
skin populated with pimples and more timid than a rabbit. As a matter
fact I would have had to been made over with a full make-up kit, silken
locks, short shirt and ditched the glasses (like in She’s All That).
Then dimple boy and all boys would fall sneakers over head for me,
according to Hollywood. Because you couldn’t be uniquely yourself and
have people like you. I know foreign concept.
But I didn’t buy into what Hollywood was selling. I knew some boy wasn’t my knight in shining armor (I’m talking to you fairytale) when teenaged boys and girls are barely kids but not yet adults, so why should we put pressure on ourselves to be mating and dating by the time we’re sixteen. And then you’re made to feel some like some bizarre creature because you don’t do those things. I was the teenaged girl without the boyfriend. Heck that weren’t even my friend (boys). But I didn’t feel like my world was collapsing because my crushes chose other girls. In a Hollywood film I would have been. But I never was boy crazy. I went to the mall, I never got or gave my digits. I would hear about all the girls taking about the fine boys that talk to all night on the phone. Half of me cared and the other half didn’t.
By the time my senior year came around I still wasn’t one half of a boy/girl duo, but it didn’t bother me. I wrote poetry, love the French language, and had an after school job for two years. Prom came around, I didn’t scramble for a date or wanted to lose my virginity (a staple in Hollywood teen films). I went to prom stag. I was decked out in gold satin (the only time I have ever worn heels). I’m a flat and tennis shoe girl. So my teen years were like anything you would see on film, maybe Freaks and Geeks was truer to my life than anything else. I was awkward (still am). A book worm (still am). Didn’t grow up too fast. (No fake ids to get into clubs). My world isn’t collapsing because a guy hasn’t chosen me. I am able to decipher reel life from real life. And Hollywood doesn’t come close. (Don’t get me started on the whole need a date for a wedding thing).
But I didn’t buy into what Hollywood was selling. I knew some boy wasn’t my knight in shining armor (I’m talking to you fairytale) when teenaged boys and girls are barely kids but not yet adults, so why should we put pressure on ourselves to be mating and dating by the time we’re sixteen. And then you’re made to feel some like some bizarre creature because you don’t do those things. I was the teenaged girl without the boyfriend. Heck that weren’t even my friend (boys). But I didn’t feel like my world was collapsing because my crushes chose other girls. In a Hollywood film I would have been. But I never was boy crazy. I went to the mall, I never got or gave my digits. I would hear about all the girls taking about the fine boys that talk to all night on the phone. Half of me cared and the other half didn’t.
By the time my senior year came around I still wasn’t one half of a boy/girl duo, but it didn’t bother me. I wrote poetry, love the French language, and had an after school job for two years. Prom came around, I didn’t scramble for a date or wanted to lose my virginity (a staple in Hollywood teen films). I went to prom stag. I was decked out in gold satin (the only time I have ever worn heels). I’m a flat and tennis shoe girl. So my teen years were like anything you would see on film, maybe Freaks and Geeks was truer to my life than anything else. I was awkward (still am). A book worm (still am). Didn’t grow up too fast. (No fake ids to get into clubs). My world isn’t collapsing because a guy hasn’t chosen me. I am able to decipher reel life from real life. And Hollywood doesn’t come close. (Don’t get me started on the whole need a date for a wedding thing).
Friday, March 18, 2016
Stressed Out by twenty one pilots lyrics
This song speaks to me, I often reminisce about the good ol' days and being a kid transitioning into a teen in the 90s. I don't recall hearing about shootings all the time when I would watch the 10p.m news. Cartoons were so much better. I looked forward to Saturday morning cartoons. Now they don't exist. I use to record songs off the radio. I always hated when the DJ would take over the beginning of the song. "I'm not trying to hear you in my song." There was better music back then. Before auto tune, and talk singing. Women singers didn't resemble strippers like they do now. And there was no social media, I don't think I would be able to survive my teen years today, with the way you can be cyber bullied. I was call names like ugly, retarded and four eyed growing up. But imagine those words with horrible memes of you posted on computers and cellular devices. With that being said I would go back to the 90s with my 2016 knowledge and I would have pursued a literary career from the beginning. English was my best and favorite subject. I was drawing and writing stories at the age of 9. I should have honed my writing craft. Instead I decided to pursue computer programming which lead to failure and bad grades and dropping classes. While I was failing with ones and zeros, I could have been learning foreshadowing and other literary devices. It wasn't until after college, and futile attempts to become part of corporate America that I decided to write again. I did take some creative writing classes. So twelve years ago, which also happened to be year of the ram (my Chinese zodiac sign) I wrote my first crappy manuscript. Four manuscripts later I still have this dream but I don't care if people tell me to wake up, you need to make money. I'm tired of being stressed out.
Sunday, February 14, 2016
Unrequited
The flowers have long since
wilted
Chocolate kisses have melted
You never came
I tire of plucking petals
Being a starry-eyed
maid-in-waiting…
For you to come
Bleeding love?
My heart has turned tortoise
shell
You took too long
The relationship sailed on
Leaving me to drown with
insecurities
Labels:
Anti-Valentine's Day,
free verse,
musings,
poem,
poetry,
unrequited love
Thursday, October 29, 2015
Midnight ramblings
Well it looks like 2015 won't be the year I break into the literary field. I am currently working on my fifth manuscript. I'm also thinking about tackling NANOWRIMO next month. I never seem to get past 6,000 words. At this point in my literary aspirations, I think I will just focus on writing the best novel that I can. I need to stop dwelling on landing an agent and so forth. I have to greatest longing for my literary dreams to be more than just that. But I don't know. The whole self-publishing path I walked down three years ago, did nothing for my literary career. I guess I didn't know enough people who read, and plus I don't have a great big publicity machine behind me. Heck, Amanda Hocking became a millionaire through self-publishing alone. Then she received a two million dollar contract from St. Martin. Press. I know that will not happen to the likes of me. I only sold maybe 10 copies. I know I will not be a viral sensation, millions will not retweet any of my blue moon tweets. My facebook page won't get astronomical views. Heck, I will not even win a writing contest. I've been entering since 2005. I doubt if my first page will ever be elevated to the next level on webook. I have over 2000 readers on readwave, which I appreciate. 2000 readers won't pique an agent's interest but at least there is somebody reading my writing. I will just keep trying. I've been dreaming for a decade. I'm almost forty and I don't know what else to do but write.
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
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