Poem: Guilt

enter a book store

isn’t this just a sanctuary

of written thoughts

and quiet nooks

with no judgement

or weird looks

 

fingers trail over paperbacks

science-fiction you’ve never read

till you find a treasure

convince yourself

you need it desperately

it’s all in your head

 

you’re going to read it

as soon as you get home

you’ll cherish it forever

 

but  on the floor

in a plastic bag

it sits alone

 

 

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Poem: Rules

These are just scribbles, really. A thank you goes to everyone who read and support this blog. Just noticed I reached 401 followers this weekend. 🙂 Might not seem like a lot, but it is to me. So again, thank you!

Rules

Shadows creep, winter chills
open closets are unkind
To the wandering mind
Of children just beginning

Poem: Twenty-nine

About a year ago, I wrote a poem called twenty-eight. Well, this year I am twenty-nine and the world is far from perfect. Was discussing with some friends about what is frustrating for our generation in this day and age, and well, here it is.

Twenty-nine

twenty-nine and almost thirty

life is one long road, often dirty.

find a job to save some dough

then it’s paying bills, school loans you owe

twenty-nine and splitting rent

and if you don’t, money is spent

on food, electric and a car to drive

to get to work, to stay alive

Those houses you imagined

with their little white fences

is another lost dream,

in the mountain of expenses

Just for a moment, you’re almost there

then you break a bone, on crappy health care

the road is dirty at twenty-nine

but all the refuse, isn’t mine.

 

Poem: Writing Mind

Managed to spend a good four to five hours writing today! This is good news! I worked on a few projects at once, but one project I really got in to today. I realized I could probably submit it to the writer’s digest contest by June 1st, but to do that it needs some serious rewrites.

I got in the writers mindset a lot today and trying to emerge…is like waking up from a deep sleep. (At least it is for me.) I get this spacey expression on my face, and conversation is difficult, because part of me is still thinking about character’s dialogue in my head or planning which way a character is gong to go next.  It is an interesting feeling to say the least, but hey, at least I was productive today!

Pictured I snapped this weekend at the lake.

a writing sort of mood

everything sounds like poetry

blank stare

“Whaa…”

emerge from the world

like a band-aid ripped from a wound

jarred back to the present

words are like poetry

the trees are like poetry in motion

and everything is heavy, heavy, heavy

like a dark blanket

trapping the sun

in its shadows

It’s Okay to Admit You Need Help

Things have been a little quiet here on the blogging front. Not intentionally. This week I’ve been sick with a lovely head cold and I have some new things going on in my life and thought I would take some time to chat about it.

It’s not easy…admitting that you need help. Help comes in many different forms. Emotional…educational…physical.

You might have heard me mention it a time or two: depression and anxiety.

When I was a teenager, I was diagnosed with Seasonal Affective disorder, which is basically depression that one gets based on the lack of sunlight in the winter months. It’s no fun when a chemical in your brain stops working properly and tells you not to be happy anymore.

I’ve…managed with that the last several years. But lately, it seems like the older I get the worse my anxiety is. I have always been a classified “worry-wort,” but there comes a time, where it’s not just worry. Where anxiety becomes something more than just double checking that your doors are locked after you locked them. Twice. And after you already check again for the third time.

The older I get, it seems like the more I don’t function properly. I’ve been debating back and forth why I don’t see myself as “normal” anymore. Why, I think that’s something I ought to be, and why normal isn’t really the same for anyone. What’s normal? And why is it something anyone wants to be, anyway?

But anyway, I digress. The point…I’ve started going to therapy.

Some people might think, so? I’ve gone to therapy, what’s the big deal? But this is a big deal for me. I’m not used to telling my life problems to people, and it’s not always easy admitting that you need help.

There’s no shame in admitting that you need help, and there’s no shame in getting that help. Depression and anxiety are not easy things, and it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.

We all react to our life struggles in different ways, and we all have to find our own ways to encounter such challenges. I am not afraid to talk about my depression and anxiety, but I was afraid to get help. And I’m still afraid in some ways…do people look at me differently? Do I look different?

Does anyone judge me? But…I have to press on.

When I started this blog, I wanted to make sure it was a place that I could always come to, to make sure I was still writing. Now, I also want it to be a place where I can talk freely about my problems with depression and anxiety.

It’s something that needs to be talked about, and seeing as writers and creative sorts always seem to be the ones who struggle with depression and anxiety…we should all do a lot of talking about it.

Anyway, I hope you guys are having a great night, and I hope everyone had a great weekend.

Happy writing!

I Want to Live Life, Without Feeling Trapped

Having a case of the Sunday night blues tonight. Happens every night lately before the start of a new week. I love my freedom during the days on weekends. To enjoy the sunshine when I want, to read a book, to bake, to enjoy being human and alive and with others and the people who I love.

This current job I’m at now, while there are some decent people, I feel like everyone is so bored with life there. They are so bored and tired of the next day, of a job that keeps going with no end, of a retirement that is still eight years down the road.

It’s had me thinking a lot about what I want out of life, lately. I don’t want to work in a job where my life is taken from me. I want freedom…I want to travel…I want to live.

People judge millennials because we don’t want to work. But people forget many of us are not working in the job we went to school for. We don’t get money because we are doing what we love. We get money because we work at jobs, (very often) that no one else wants to work at.

I’m no slacker. I’ve worked a myriad of jobs to make money to pay the bills and I’ve been miserable at many of them, but I worked them anyway. Where does it say that we have to be miserable to make money?

People say that you should work hard, stay at a job, get retirement, but the sacrifice of life, freedom, and lack of money just doesn’t seem worth it anymore. Forgive me, but, I am no one else’s money-maker.

I want to live my life, without feeling like I’m trapped in my job. Is that really so much to ask?

Poem: Live, Live

live-511556_1280

periods of inspiration

filter through my day

in the shower

while driving

(usually on the highway)

no pen or paper

texts in my phone

fifteen emails a day

But then there are moments

where inspiration

is like the stale

breath on your lips

something about it

reeks of everydayness

of something generalized

like every other boring sap

who stinks of garbage mouth

you brush and you scrub

and you try to feel like new again

with the shiny pieces

sparkling through with imagination

like childhood

Very few I think

forget as an adult

that childhood imagination

shouldn’t be shunned

but cherished

like a feeling of new-age revival

Bring out the broken pieces

repair them with relish

remember that you don’t

work to die

you make money

to live, and live and live

to be care free

and use time wisely

Poem: We Who Are Human; I Wonder

Good morning WordPress readers! I am up and around earlier on a Saturday because I have a friend coming to visit me! 🙂

I found this poem while I was cleaning up around the place this morning. I wrote it sometime last week and forgot all about it. I’m not sure if it’s quite finished, but I wanted to share.

Hope everyone is having a great weekend so far!

 

We who are human

who walk with eyes

we tell jokes

and crippling lies

 

What makes us, ‘us’

why do we stand?

why do we sing?

or walk on land?

 

To be human:

to know how to cry

to travel the earth

and live under sky

 

I wonder if somewhere

the trees are blue

another group walks

by names of ‘me’ or ‘you’

 

they look at the sky

and wonder out loud

if beyond the sky

above the clouds

 

there lives someone else

in the great unknown

so different from theirs

another place called ‘home.’

 

Writers Need Other Hobbies, Too!

img_20161017_211015387.jpg

Pictured I colored and sent to my Mom, lol 😛

Slept in super late this Sunday as per usual, and made pancakes and bacon for brunch. Got some stuffed pepper soup stewing away in the crock pot, and here I am sitting here at my desk spending some quality time soaking in my light box’s rays.

Sundays are usually lazy days for me lately, and today I am feeling creative. I have not been the most diligent writer as of late, but I must not let writer’s fear get me down.

All my activity in the kitchen this afternoon, reminds me how important it is for us writers to have other hobbies besides writing.

You need to give yourselves a chance to be creative with everything.

Lately, I’ve been coloring, working on a cross-stitching project and baking more in the kitchen. Although, sometimes I use these activities to procrastinate on writing projects that I should be working on instead, I feel a sense of freedom on working on other things.

Expand your horizons – be open to new ways of creating.

Chefs are creative when they are in the kitchen; painters dabble with different textures, different colors; bakers create freshly baked masterpieces of flaky, buttery bread and crusty goodness.

Athletes create different exercise routines, different ways of pushing themselves to the next level, of knowing what they can and can’t get away with when it comes to their bodies.

As writers, we have to get used to thinking about things in a different way.

If you just stick to what you know, or if you stick to one thing, you may become an expert at that one thing but you will limit yourselves when it comes to creating.

Writers know that the more you know the more knowledgeable you’ll become and the more useful your writing will be to others.

Never limit yourself as a writer, or as a creative person. Craft, paint, hike, climb, explore, taste and try new things.

We never know what will spark that next great inspiration. What do you like to do to stay creative?

Happy Writing!