The Tale of… Me

If you seen the movie A Knight’s Tale, in the end, where (Chaucer) Paul Bettany, jumps in to buy time for Will (Heath Ledger) during the jousting tournament… his infamous line of, “I forgot my introduction!” I myself forgot mine of just how I came to find my writing tale in the stars…

Most of the blogs I’ve seen seem to start with an entry that sums up an intro… I just kind of dove in, well more like brought over works from another lower profile blogging site that didn’t allow me near as much exposure as WordPress does, and built it up here (so thank you WordPress and to all who follow and Like my work.) Support is important to me as a writer 🙂

However; I never really pointed out when I started writing and why. Now the why is hard, we’ll circle back to that one, but when? Basically when I was able to start writing full sentences and keep a diary (before my mother started stealing it.) I can’t remember the age; I was young, really young, but I remember how it made me feel… excited. I would get lost in thoughts and worlds I would make up on paper and in my head; I would also journal strange dreams, my grade school crushes, friendship dramas, and the pressures of my super damaged home life I could never share with anyone. Writing was my escape; I felt at peace when I had a pen in my hand and paper underneath it… paper doesn’t judge you, it holds your words, the good and the bad with zero comment.

A lot of people say they are inspired by the “greats” of American literature or certain authors when they become published authors or writers in general. This was not my case; I was not inspired by Austen, Bronte, or Fitzgerald, cause I’ll level with you… I’ve never read any of their books in my 33 years on this Earth. Will I one day? Maybe, maybe not. Will it make me less of a writer? Absolutely not. Does it discredit other writers cause they did? Of course not. We are all influenced by different sources and different people, and almost 90% of the time a writer is also an avid reader. Some say you can’t be one without the other; I guess this is a little true but not completely. You may not read books in your free time, but you do read your own work when you re-draft and edit. So every writer has a little bit of a reader in them whether they like it or not.

So instead of great literary influences, and because my mother did not believe in nursing my growing desire to read; I had to read what was available to me, and for this girl, that was my mother’s romance novels. Bright side; I didn’t really need “the talk” when she insistently tried to force it on me when I hit middle school, but downside was this is where my reading adventure started. The book I spent years loving as my first read and later following trilogies of? The Sun Witch by Linda Winstead Jones. Full of magic, love, adventure, and yes, sexual content. These days, this is the norm for books and younger adults, just watered down way more than what I read as a preteen. Do I wish I could go back and change how I came into reading? Not really… it bumped me into a more difficult reading bracket at a young age, and thanks to that I can understand more difficult books than some people can. Plus when I was in HS I could read through material in less than a day while it took the other students a week.

Why do I write? I don’t know, and I can’t explain it. I was meant to, and I always will be. My grandfather even said so the last time I saw him alive. It’s a gift I have, and I also love to express my feelings and creativity through ink or on the keys. I bleed my soul into words, and without that ability I really don’t even know who I am. For a long time I wasn’t sure who or what I was going to be, and I felt lost, like a spinning compass. When I finally started writing again, it felt like I found myself again, and I knew… I knew I was meant to be a writer. All that I need lies right inside of me, all the power is right here in my fingertips… and no matter what roadblocks I encounter, whether it be health issues, mental blocks, or even a bad day; I never let it hold me back.

Last Sneak Peek For A Bit!

It’s later in the day, and the sun is setting by the time we pull in the driveway. I will say this about our small but growing town, it never fails on providing us with breathtaking sunsets. It reminds me of my years in Savannah, but I try to forget that time, and the loss I endured there. We walk in the door and are immediately wrapped in the scents of Chinese food, and I’ve forgotten how long ago lunch was, and how much I love broccoli and chicken with egg rolls and extra rice. There are candles on the table and place settings for two, and Caz is in the kitchen. “Ladies! Glad the day went on without incident… I set this out for Bri and Caide, he’s on his way to watch over her tonight, and you” he points to me, “we are dining alone up in your room.” “He means your the meal,” Bri murmurs in my ear. “What was that?” Caz asks. “Nothing,” I say as I elbow Bri in the ribs and she wheezes like an eighty year old woman. Caz holds his hand out to me and I take it just as there is a knock on the door. I turn back to face Bri and make the gesture of drawing on a face as she glares at me. Caide walks in and kisses her as I turn back to Caz as we head up to my room. “Your certainly more trusting of him than I expected you to be,” I say. “He cares about her and is trying to ease her pain; I will trust that.” He replies. When he opens the door I’m not prepared for all the tea lights scattered around the room, the windows are open to let the cool breeze in, and there are two trays with my favorites on them, and other food for him on the second tray. Closing the door he pushes me up against it and I drop my bag and keys to the floor… “This is the main course, you’ll be dessert.” He promises as he steps back and pulls me towards the waiting food.

“Don’t make me fight you for the last egg roll,” I warn. He laughs before handing it to me, and I chew slowly as his eyes graze over every inch of me. Dinner has been nice, but single interaction between us is becoming like static, and the friction is only increasing. “I couldn’t help but hear you talking to Bri today…” he says, “and if your really bothered by this feeling you have; I won’t lay a finger on you.” I lock eyes with his smoky gaze, how can I resist? “I just don’t want it to be dangerous,” I say as I point at the handprint still plainly in sight on the doorframe. “What did happen there?” He asks. I can’t tell him about Lu, he’ll never relax nor be calm ever again if he knows even with the pendant on me Lu can still communicate with me. “I don’t know; I just felt this surge of heat or energy and it happened,” I explain. “Well next time, put those hands of yours on me; I can handle it,” he says as he pushes the trays of food aside and leans in to kiss me. “I would move those… unless you want leftovers in places food shouldn’t be,” I whisper against his lips. He smirks but adheres to my request and puts everything on my dresser and then joins me back on the bed, where clothes are shed. I let my worries and feelings fall silent and completely surrender to him, and it feels… like words can’t describe. We are magnetic, so caught up in one another I lose track of all time, but somewhere between a sunset and the stars coming out we finally give in to sleep. For the first time since we’ve become intimate there are no bursting lights, cracks of thunder, or power outages… but on some innate level I feel a shift, a big one.

Everytime I dream of an impending tsunami I’m always on a beach, location unknown, screaming and warning people to run. They never do. I’m looking out towards the water, knowing the wave will come, but no one listens to my cries. Then usually I wake up, and read about it in the news the next day, but this one is different. I’m at a resort of some kind, inside surrounded by glass, and I feel shaking. I start to warn people to run but they won’t listen to me, and I stand up to look around me but then everything is calm. Suddenly a wall of water breaks through the trees and comes through the glass, sending people running and screaming. Just as I feel the slightest brush of water; I wake up. I’m hot as hell, can’t breathe, and it takes me a minute to unentangle myself from Caz in order to sit up. I try to slow my breathing, but I can’t and now my head is pounding too. I quietly slip out of bed, grab a thin cotton robe off my closet door and leave Caz in bed to head down into the kitchen. By the time I make it down the stairs I’m slightly calmer, but I pull some Tylenol out of one of the cabinets and pop two for my head with a small swig of water. I’m not ready to go back to bed so I look in the freezer for my chocolate ice cream, and sit up on the island with a spoon, contemplating if what I dreamt was precognitive or just a nightmare. It had all the makings of a typical tsunami “warning” dream, but it felt different, especially given how I was feeling right before I fell asleep. I look over at the time on the microwave, 4:33am. Just great; I might as well stay up or call out tomorrow.

“Well this is quite a sight,” Caz says as he walks in wearing nothing but pj bottoms and his hair is sticking every which way. So sexy. “What has you up at this hour?” He asks in a concerned tone. “Nightmare,” I reply. He comes over to where I’m sitting on the island and licking the spoon, positioning himself between my legs. “Can I have some?” He asks. His eyes are still that burnt shade of smoke… does he ever stop being turned on? “Not with you,” he whispers back in my ear as his fingers fiddle with the bow on my robe. Damn this pendant

Facing Down My Reflection

Last night I had an ultra “trippy” dream that dropped me back in my childhood home again, go figure, and guess who guest starred? My departed mother, well sort of… in an ironic twist the version of my mother looked a lot like me… curly brown hair, pale skin, slender form, reading glasses, and I don’t know why this stuck out in my head but she was holding a glass of water. My dreams allow me to remember the most painstaking details… like the specific bedroom I was in, who I was with, and why we were in a hurry (I’ll summarize, because as always, killers were after us, well me) In the dream, my sort of mother/me was warning me that we had to go… and I went in to hug her, but she resisted but then finally relented. My traveling companions, one being my younger brother and another being a coworker warned me, after she left the room that she couldn’t be trusted. After we escape, which I don’t remember how; I remember magical means being a part of this dream… I wake up. All throughout the day I kept thinking about that singular moment when I hugged her, and it honestly felt like I was hugging myself, right down to noticing the same texture of my hair and skin. Which is FREAKY.

It makes me wonder if the psychological significance behind it is not the looming “mother” presence in my dream, but the part of me that is her… and myself trying to embrace it. Literally. Perhaps my so called “companions” were my subconscious and it’s fears when they said don’t trust her. This side of me that is my mother is darker, angry, aggressive, and prone to be impulsive and reckless… which is why I bury it, and choose not to embrace it or go all Star Wars and be like “I am one with the Force.” I may accept the dark and light side of my own personality, but this edgier and raw side of me that is her… it bothers me, and I know I haven’t fully “embraced” it yet. Perhaps that is what I was trying to do last night, and I almost was able to but my subconscious just isn’t quite there yet because it didn’t feel right, or good. When embracing all of yourself it should feel like a good thing, and you should feel complete… for me; I feel like an incomplete puzzle, and that one piece just doesn’t want to fit or I’m not ready for it to be a part of my picture yet. When I am though, it will be beautiful…

Time for another Sneak Peek :)

“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Caz say’s for probably the billionth time. I finally make it into the shower, and I’m pulling on some underwear, black slacks, purple blouse, and flats before pinning my hair up. “Caz; I get it, you’re worried, but we can’t stay here and ‘worry together’ while my job is on the line,” I state as I push past him. The handprint on my doorframe kind of embarrassed me, given how it got there, but more importantly how I did it is the question. Either my so called abilities were surfacing sooner than expected or the link between Lu and I was stronger than anticipated… man did I hope it was the first one. Once I slipped the last pin in my hair I stand before my

bodyguard turned lover, “I’m assuming you’ll be at my job somewhere incognito?” He smiles in that way that gives me flutters and annoys me at the same time, “You know me too well wife.” I go to punch him in the shoulder but he grabs my fist and spins me in his arms too fast for me to react. “Too slow… and keep this hidden, always when in public,” as he takes the talisman of his I wear around my neck and tucks it under my blouse, his hand gently tracing my collarbone. He releases me and I turn to face him, “Shall we master Yoda?” I ask. He grins again, his arm snaking around my waist and pulling me close to him and into a deep kiss. He wraps me in a full embrace, almost tipping me back into a cheesy Hollywood dip and kiss. Just when I almost can’t breathe our lips part and he lets go… “Now master Yoda is ready.”

“So… I take it from the rattle I heard upstairs right before we left that you and Caz were yet again unable to keep your paws off one another,” Bri say’s as she leans back in her chair to whisper at me. “Takes one to know one,” I reply. That comment lands me a highlighter bouncing off my forehead, but I barely feel it. Bri rolls her chair closer my desk, although we can’t get any closer considering our little mini workstation is adjoined. I’m trying to finish the article that will go along with the Greek Ball, but my thoughts about Caz and Lu are making it impossible to focus. “Tell me what is going on up in there,” Bri say’s as she taps my right temple, and I finally look away from the computer screen and relent. “When you are with Caide, does it feel different than being with like a normal guy?” Bri cocks her head, “Definitely, but not so much I can’t tell the difference. Why? Are you worried about you and Caz?” “I guess what I’m trying to find out is, are you so consumed by him that the pull is almost too much to handle?” I ask her. She studies me for a second before answering, “No. I mean being with Caide is amazing, like incredible, but I can most certainly control myself around him.” So it was just Caz and I then. “Is that what’s going on with you and Caz? Hun I wouldn’t think too much on it… you suppress so much and he’s an actual angel, it’s probably just normal desires.” I would love to believe her; I really would, but my instincts tell me something else is going on, something angelic. “It’s definitely something else Bri; I can feel it, and I don’t want to just feed into it if it’s something dangerous or Lu is behind it.” I explain to her. She tenses up at the mention of Lu, so I leave out that I’ve been seeing and hearing him, it will only deepen that fear she has of him since her “lost” night in Paradise Lost. So far we have had no

progress on getting the mark off of her, and her only reprieve from the nightmares is when Caide slips her some elixir he concocts at the club. He can’t always slip away, so on some occasions when she sleeps she suffers and in turn I suffer along with her.
“Maybe, and just hear me out here, you should stop fighting it and just relax. You don’t know if it’s malevolent or Lu… it could be just be you and Caz, soulmates uniting. Stop looking for the worst in a man who’s literally an angel here to protect and guide you.” Wow… never had I heard more sage advise from Bri in my time knowing her. Perhaps this entire experience had aged her, in the span of a few nights. She was right though; I may still feel some divine work at hand, but Caz and I were an extraordinary couple brought together by even more extreme circumstances… so if passions were running amok, would that be so strange? “Your right,” I finally concede. “Ah I’m sorry; I’m going to need to hear that again,” she says with a silly grin. “Bri; I wouldn’t push your luck or you’ll get a sharpie tattoo on your face tonight,” I half threaten. Suddenly I see our boss, the head of the magazine, otherwise in the office known as Abigail coming our way and Bri quickly rolls on back to her post. Abby, as she likes us to call her, comes up to us both and asks, “So girls, how are we doing on your prep assignments for our big Ball coming up in a few days?” “Right as rain,” Bri and I say in unison. Abby smiles and walks around the corner into her office, shutting the door. This is about the time she goes into her afternoon conference call. “So, Carrabbas for lunch? Bri asks, and I nod while smiling.

Daily Dose of EMOTION

Some days I almost forget what it’s like on the “down swings” cause when the rainbow is out all I feel is the light and the good times. If you are Bipolar, then yeah, you know how we feel in the extremes and how EXHAUSTING it is! When you crash, you crash hard. Then again we are all different in that aspect… I tend to hit the metaphorical pavement pretty hard, maybe some of you guys decline at a slower rate and I’m one of the ones that skydives without a parachute. The end results remain the same, full scale depression… dark thoughts, isolation, destructive behaviors, crying spells, the whole nines. This is my depression cycle, we all suffer uniquely.

One particular aspect of Bipolar that maybe is a blessing in disguise (or a curse depending on how you look at it) is that we do we feel emotions and everything around us on more profound levels than say your average person. I noticed this when I was a child, teen, and then younger adult in my 20’s; I probably pay less attention to it now because it’s normal to me… but I’ve always had the ability to read a person’s emotions like a book, or walk into a room and immediately pick up on the vibe. Commonly known as empathy I’ve been told; I personally think it’s a side effect of what was there along, just not diagnosed yet. It would be another couple decades before I actually was labeled Bipolar.

So is it a blessing or a curse? Both? Does anyone else have this unique ability when around people? Feeling in extremes and having mental health disorders sometimes makes it feel like my reality has been augmented in some way, like I see the world differently than someone who doesn’t have a chemical imbalance in their brain. Even my dreams run more vivid, more realistic, sometimes so incredibly powerful they bleed into my waking life and I’m looking for buildings on the street that I dreamt of and aren’t real. I guess the real question I’m asking is, can a mental health disorder change us so much to our core that we feel and see the world in a different way?

Never Enough Time

Tick tock, tick tock

We wake up

Tick tock, tick tock

We go to work

Tick tock, tick tock

We raise children and keep house

Tick tock, tick tock

We spend time with loved ones, and hobbies

Tick tock, tick tock

We go to bed

Tick tock, tick tock

We wake up

Tick tock, tick tock

One day, the clock stops

Time is precious. Don’t get caught up in trying to rush your timeline

Rock And A Hard Place

Inspiration binge for the longest time… now I’m running on E. Guess I saw this coming. Even that last poem was not my finest hour, cause usually my poetry is more smooth and this one felt like gravel. Writer’s block is frustrating, and it always seems to happen at the worst times for me. I’m on the roll with journaling, unstoppable in my story, and working well with blogging. Either way it hits and hits hard.

I’m stubborn, so I refuse to bow down to the monster that is writer’s block and I try and writer my way out of this cube of insanity. Sometimes I absolutely cannot so I take a step back and bury myself in books, cause yes; I am a dedicated bookworm. Good downtime is never bad for the soul when it allows for reading, and I know I haven’t picked up nearly as much reading material as I used to. I sit and namaste myself amongst lavender candles, turn up the music, binge watch Netflix, etc… Basically I equate this issue to my hacks for dealing with Anxiety, because not being able to write gives me Anxiety.

Eventually I have a breakthrough because either it ends or I manage to punch through… I’m sure you all have your own methods? A quote I saw on Pinterest once jolted me back to the writing board after being out of commission for two years, yep folks, two whole years. I was worried at the time I might not ever write again. The quote read something like, “waiting for inspiration is like waiting for a plane at a train station.” Basically it translates to waiting for the impossible, and in turn it motivated me to “get back in the saddle.” Writer-wise that is.

Can You Feel It?

The air is charged

Her hand is reaching out

A rumble precedes a blinding flash of light

She’s waiting… her hand still outstretched towards the sky

Her eyes are now bright in the darkness of night

Her skin is charged with the energy of the storm

Another crack of thunder sounds; lightning strikes where she stands

All she does is smile

Can you feel it now, can you feel her?