I have a mundane existence. There is no variation in my day to day doings. I wake up, go to work. Come home. Repeat. I feel pressed down. I actually feel a plethora of emotions. The lost of my mom was the deepest cut. Feeling really alone in this world of 7 billion. She was the person I could talk to the most. Now I'm in a house that is falling apart, filled with clutter. I spend some of my off days chucking stuff in the rubbish. But I really need to hire somebody to move this clutter. I really don't have a social life. Never had a dating life.I feel I'm unmatchable. I don't think there is anyone out there for me. I don't have any guy friends, so I really don't know anything about romance and such. I've been single all my life. I guess I probably always will be. I suppose I never put a lot of effort into romantic pursuits. I have put a lot of effort into trying to be a writer that gets published. But so far that's been a bust. All three if my manuscripts, rejected. Maybe my fourth will be the charm. It's still the only dream I have. I really would like to achieve it, even more than a relationship. I once tried self-publishing. Sold ten copies. Spent eight months on dating sites. Facebook friends with a guy, who lives in Canada. Spent thousands on hair growth this and that. Still can't rubber band a strand. I will end my mundane musings here.
Sunday, April 17, 2022
Mundane Musings
Tuesday, February 15, 2022
Monday, January 10, 2022
Friday, April 26, 2019
A decade
I started this writing blog almost a decade ago. My main reason was because I heard of people getting discovered by literary agents through blogging and twitter. But of course that didn't happen to me. So I just write because I really love writing and that is how I best express myself. Although I wish my words could be seen by the world, I am the only one that sees them, even though it's online. I really would like a writing career more than anything. Retail has drained most of my life energy and I really have no desire for any other line of work. Sometimes I wish I would have done things different in my youth. I should have just studied Library Science since I love books and reading. Now my youth is dwindling and my dream is just that a dream.
I don't mind getting older but I really wish I was closer to my dream. Sometimes I feel I wasted so much of my youth and energy trying Computer Science and constantly failing in classes. But I know you can't dwell on the past. But it has directed my present state. When I read about people and their self-publishing successes, I thought I might have the same outcome. But none the less it wasn't so.It's been seven years since I took my dreams in my own hands and self-published. It didn't turn into a career. Sometimes I feel like a loser because I'm not good or excel at a lot of things. I'm not a rocket scientist or a math whiz. I'm just a creative person with imagination bursting at the seams. I just wish I could do the one thing I'm really passionate about. Writing for a living.
I don't mind getting older but I really wish I was closer to my dream. Sometimes I feel I wasted so much of my youth and energy trying Computer Science and constantly failing in classes. But I know you can't dwell on the past. But it has directed my present state. When I read about people and their self-publishing successes, I thought I might have the same outcome. But none the less it wasn't so.It's been seven years since I took my dreams in my own hands and self-published. It didn't turn into a career. Sometimes I feel like a loser because I'm not good or excel at a lot of things. I'm not a rocket scientist or a math whiz. I'm just a creative person with imagination bursting at the seams. I just wish I could do the one thing I'm really passionate about. Writing for a living.
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
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Friday, May 8, 2015
Thursday, April 2, 2015
The Girl Who Dreams
It is 2015 and I still have the same dream that I've always had. That is to write, well I do write almost daily. To be an author of books, mainly middle-grade fantasy. Of course most people will scoff at my dream. Or they'll say I don't know what I want to do. But that is not true. Writing is my passion. I have a creative mind and soul. My imagination is in overdrive. In my school days when the teacher would ask me a question my mind was in some other universe. And to this day my mind drifts to another place. Sometimes a character will walk through my cerebral corridor. Or I'll think way to wax poetic about a ruby sunset.
There was a time when I was trying to have a regular, non-creative job. I use to apply to banks, and office type jobs but then I realize I am a creative person, I love to write. My heart isn't in to being crammed into a cubicle or being an account representative reciting a script over and over on the phone. I don't want to sell insurance. I don't want to be a manager. I don't want to try and compete with others for a job where no passion lies.
I've spent all of my twenties trying to get a regular job, all the while my creativity was wilting. Not to reflect in the rear view but I wish I would have nourish my creativity back then. Wrote more. Polish my manuscript and then maybe I would be further in my literary career. Because honestly that is the only career I want. Right now I'm planted in the retail industry and I can feel the creativity ebbing like a tide. But I've been trying to keep the blooms of the my creativity. I'm working on completing my fourth manuscript. Sure my venture into self-publishing didn't yield any success but I won't give up on my literary dream. I am after all the girl who dreams.
Literary or bust.
There was a time when I was trying to have a regular, non-creative job. I use to apply to banks, and office type jobs but then I realize I am a creative person, I love to write. My heart isn't in to being crammed into a cubicle or being an account representative reciting a script over and over on the phone. I don't want to sell insurance. I don't want to be a manager. I don't want to try and compete with others for a job where no passion lies.
I've spent all of my twenties trying to get a regular job, all the while my creativity was wilting. Not to reflect in the rear view but I wish I would have nourish my creativity back then. Wrote more. Polish my manuscript and then maybe I would be further in my literary career. Because honestly that is the only career I want. Right now I'm planted in the retail industry and I can feel the creativity ebbing like a tide. But I've been trying to keep the blooms of the my creativity. I'm working on completing my fourth manuscript. Sure my venture into self-publishing didn't yield any success but I won't give up on my literary dream. I am after all the girl who dreams.
Literary or bust.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
Paper Doll
She felt like she was made of something other than flesh and blood
she felt paper thin like a paper doll
a paper doll with a torn heart
when she should have skin like an elephant’s
hers was more like parchment
she was a paper doll
a paper doll with tattered dreams
tears streaked her flimsy cheeks
this paper life curled at the edges
she wanted to strike a match
and burn down this paper house
dying embers falling like rain set aflame
this paper doll wanted to sail away
in a paper boat.
she felt paper thin like a paper doll
a paper doll with a torn heart
when she should have skin like an elephant’s
hers was more like parchment
she was a paper doll
a paper doll with tattered dreams
tears streaked her flimsy cheeks
this paper life curled at the edges
she wanted to strike a match
and burn down this paper house
dying embers falling like rain set aflame
this paper doll wanted to sail away
in a paper boat.
Sunday, September 28, 2014
The End of September
Cracks in the sidewalk
of dreams
falling like leaves
littered
on the ground
a glimmer remains
The breaking dawn
brings a new beginning
by the time the moon reflects
it feels like the end of dreams
stripped bare
as a tree
standing
in cold despair
Birdsong fills the days
which are shorter
like life
without dreams
how to begin like
the rose burgeoning
through concrete
A tear trickles down
dying embers
of a flame
smothered
could it be the end?
She wondered
The end of September
of dreams
falling like leaves
littered
on the ground
a glimmer remains
The breaking dawn
brings a new beginning
by the time the moon reflects
it feels like the end of dreams
stripped bare
as a tree
standing
in cold despair
Birdsong fills the days
which are shorter
like life
without dreams
how to begin like
the rose burgeoning
through concrete
A tear trickles down
dying embers
of a flame
smothered
could it be the end?
She wondered
The end of September
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Glass
Fragile
her heart
like glass
jagged words crash
through the window
of her soul
shattered
like glass
her dreams
broken, glinting
on the pavement
burden with tears
liquid glass
her heart
like glass
jagged words crash
through the window
of her soul
shattered
like glass
her dreams
broken, glinting
on the pavement
burden with tears
liquid glass
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Friday, October 18, 2013
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