The Naked Mind

Where did that come from? Well, I’ll tell you. I was getting dressed this morning, and pondering what to wear. Not abnormal at all. I determine my outfit based on the course of the day; where i’m going, who i’m seeing and equally where I might be going and who I might be seeing.

Not abnormal, right? I know some people who actually plan their outfit the night before, even their food for the next day….what’s up with that? the only time I’ve ever planned out my next days outfit is when I’ve bought something new or I have an event to attend to, otherwise I don’t make a very good ‘girl’., I kinda fly by the seat of pants, it works for me that way. I wear clothes, based on what i’m feeling for the moment.

I’ve got too much clothes. In fact, too many jackets, and shoes (the horror!) for that matter as well. Then I was thinking we cover up our bodies (rightly so) but our brains, our minds are covered up for the most part all of our lives.

This past week, I was overwhelmed with too many coincidences that happened or came true. Weird things have always happened to me, but this was exceptional.  It was like I tapped into ‘something’ or my mind purged itself, shed a few layers and purged itself. Thoughts, ideas, people came flooding into me. I couldn’t control it whether it was in random images, rotating premises or even plans and outcomes – it wouldn’t stop. Grief was apart of it. Time elapsed, moments missed and realization that I can’t go back. It was a very anxiety riddled week. There were some things, comments and ideas that popped into my head that I paid attention to and followed up on and was astounded when I observed the lesson it had to teach me. But I wanted to know more. I dream a lot. Most are mushed up and like most dreams, make no sense at all. however, people and things often pop up that I ignore or just brush off. Then they come true. Yes, I still dream of dead people but they do not pose a threat. Its just a matter of diagnosing what parts of dreams will play out in real life and to possibly warn others. A common fact is that most people only use 10% of their brain. Makes you kinda believe that those that can ‘see’ things have inadvertently tapped into some part of that other 80%. That’s the naked mind.

When we are little people, we are spoonfed what to do, how to act, how to feel, what to be, where to go, etc., I think a lot of people fall into those patterns as a result. They cover up what they feel, and what to say as to not rock the boat. It is subconsciously engrained into our brains and lays way for future damage. Now, I’m not saying people should walk around with no filter, cause there is no place for rudeness, ignorance and no manners. But i’m saying that there always seems to be a level of protectiveness that we either surround our thoughts with, or learn to hide, deep deep down.

Its probably not healthy. We cover up our minds, and wrap up in delusional thoughts until we do not know our own selves. We pretend, protect and ignore what we know is there. We then adapt and go with the flo….the norm. Is this a defense mechanism, or is this simply because we are taught no other way. Independent thought is dead. Sometimes when we show a little too much of our true ‘selves’ we are possibly mocked, or judged because it is not the ‘norm’. People fear the unknown when they refuse to understand it and when they fear the unknown they react and retaliate. This is where hate is bred and lives.

So what I am simply saying in general terms, its always important to be true to yourself and follow your bliss. You can never ignore your true self or pretend it does not exist. You must never dismiss your inner dreams, wants or fantasies as rubberish or tomfoolery as there certainly enough people in this world put in place to do that for you. Only people true to you, the ones that know the truly naked you will understand. If they don’t understand because of their own walls of judgement or inability to truly have their own naked and open mind, out of respect they will allow you to be your own self and hear you out. Peace of mind takes on a completely new definition. Always trust your intuition, listen to your heart and strip away the layers of protection and open up your mind.

 

 

Dear Ryan Murphy……

Oh & Mr. brad Falchuk…….Why? Just why? Better yet…..What?… The….fudge?. 

I fell in love with American Horror Story as ‘Coven’ was set to take stage – front and centre. It held promise to quench my curiosity. I liked the cast, loved the entertwined story lines. The characters with the idiosyncrocies drew me In. And held my attention. A very, very difficult task for any run of the mill TV program. However American Horror Story isn’t your Mama’s Twilight Zone. Not for the weak of heart, or stomach for that matter. Ryan Murphy and his writers elevated the game.
Now I do realize it was the third entry into Mr. murphy’s smorgasbord of ludacris dare I say visual paralysis, however, I was not privied to have had the option or the cable options when # 1 Murder House & #2 Asylum rolled onto the scene. I’ve caught a few episodes of Murder House, years later and would rather see them in order. Asylum…..the jury is out. I could boldly tell you ‘it’s not my cup of tea’. But truth be told the thought of mental institutions doesn’t just creep me out, but freaks me out….perhaps one of my previous lives ended there? Hard to say. 

But I loved Coven. It was a perfect combination of good vs evil…love vs hate…..neglect vs nurture and denial vs acceptance. Something so wrong but it felt so right. The marketing was spot on. It lured me in. The promos definitely set the tone. No guess work and evident it was about a coven… Of witches no less. Are there any other? 

Then came Freakshow. It lived up to its name. It was set on an era where people were enticed by the strange and unusual. Given the fact this was waaaaaay  before video games, the Internet, iPhones or even decent movies, music or TV. Folks had no other entertainment resource other than gossiping, procreational sex, attending travelling circuses and sideshow freak shows to broaden their horizons on the world. 

But here is the beautiful part that totally smittened me, or even reinforced my infatuation with the whole AHS franchise….. The was no magic, ghosts, no vampires, witches, entities or supernatural of any kind to pepper or project the connecting storylines any further. Just deviants and depraved normal people mingling with decent mutants trying to carve out a living… A tolerable existence. Under its own merit it was an enlightening, frightening and suspenseful experience to witness AHS Freakshow unfold and terrify during each messed up episode. Just when you think you’ve seen enough treachery or disenbowelment, no you haven’t. Freakshow was a creepy salsa all within its natural self.

Bring on Season 5 – Hotel. Oh you say Jessica Lang is out…..pity. I felt she commanded the previous two seasons. She ‘owned’ her characters. Brilliantly exaggerated but just the same passionate and believable. you loved her, pitied her and mostly dispised her as both Fiona Goode and Elsa Mars. 

Oh yes Hotel with Lady Gaga – I’ll bite <snicker snicker> ok, since Jessica was out I held out judgement and reassured that the other repeat offenders were returning (Kathy Bates, Angela Bassett, Sarah Paulson, Evan Peters, Dennis O’Hare, Lily Rabe) so much promise…….alas so much disappointment. I gotta ask; What the hell happened? All you forgot was the werewolfves there. It’s so cool and commendable that Ryan and Brad invent these extraordinary characters with these layered and blended plots to then present then to their trusted actors and say, ‘ ok, you’re going to be a lesbian vampire who started out as actress and a promising singer from the retro 70s era before you were ‘turned’.But now seek revenge on the woman who turned you because she killed your heterosexual lover and destroyed your chance for a happily ever after! Ok?’ And then they agree. They all mostly all, are lured back. And as absurd as the role, how brutal the mannerisms, faults and tragedy as the back story is, these fabulous actors pull it off – every season!!! Bravo. 

So for as fault riddled as Season 5 – Hotel was, I finished the whole season. It was not cut and dry. It was predictable. I mean how often can you exploit the whole ‘vampire’ genre to make it watchable. OMG writing this I just startled myself <smh> with a flashback on the whole ‘serial killer’ reunion scenes… WTH was that about and who convinced who that  that would be a plausible storyline to incorporate –  that deserves a do-over and that writer should be FIREEEEED! Yes there were faults…. San Andres magnitude faults. Trust me I asked around, it was brutal and within my circle I was hard pressed to find anyone else that endured Season 5 beginning to end. Stick a stake in that vampire heart – it was soooooo done!

So much hope for Season 6. Scouring the Internet all summer like a fan girl on a sugar high – nada, zip, diddley squat. No leaked info as to the ‘theme’ but that’s ok, cause nothing like a good horror story starting the month of Halloween to get the gory body parts flowing. Oh, what do you mean it’s starting in September. Oh..ok. Just the same can’t wait to find out more. Cruise ship? Orphanage ? What the heck is it? The suspense is killing me. I’ve PVR’d the series just in case something comes up and I forget to watch AHS since it is starting in September and not the traditional October. But tonight I sat and watched season 6 – but what is it called? There is no standard creepy music, heartpounding visual to freak us out and set the stage for a really, really good mind screw before the main freak out. 

Roanoke Nightmare……..what? The printing is so small there at the bottom of my 60 inch screen. Who decided to put red on black. So ok, I did hear one other rumour that the show this season is based on a colony of 200 or so people that mysteriously disappeared about 400 years ago in southern American without a trace. Low & Behold AHS found them !!!! Yeah team. Not only are they terrorizing a new family that bought a rural house in the isolated bush, but the new family is documenting what happened to them… First hand. Interview style. And the actors telling their story is being re-enacted by other actors (cool! It’s Cuba Gooding Jr. I heart that guy) Fantastic actors aside – WTH ? Well HEL-LO  It’s like Blair Witch project fornicated with Paranormal Witness. Well that s not original. Another word comes to mind – disappointing, yeah that one. 

<Sigh> stayed tuned…. Cause someone has to. Thanks for the memories Ryan and Brad.

Waiting is the hardest Part

It’s a shame we can’t always get what we want when we want it. I think if I had to calculate how much time I’ve spent waiting – in general – in my life, I’d say I’ve probably wasted a year if my life waiting. Waiting for what exactly? Everything; people, on hold, traffic lights, lineups at the bank, appointments, interviews, giving birth, finding love and friends to show up. There no limit – we’ve all been there. When I’m late for some outing, I refer to it as being fashionably late. As I get older my perception of time ( traffic jams aside) is impeccable. I now seem to be the first one to show up at a restaurant and have to wait for others. That’s fine. I know they’ve paid their share if time waiting  on me.

I guess waiting builds character, or stamina? “Good things come to those who wait?” obviously, the person who said that never had to wait! Unfortunately with fate, you never no if you are waiting for something, if it were to be ‘good’ or ‘bad’.

I’m as impatient as the next person, with a twist: I am cursed with an imagination. Not just your regular imagination, but Vente. An over active imagination. Its kinda like playing chess. The longer I wait, the more I have come up with at least 20 scenarios on how something is going to play out. Whether its, hours, days, months and unfortunately – years. That’s a looooooong story.

The longer you wait, especially on an outcome, that’s when the bartering in my head turns on. ‘If this goes this way, I’m no longer going to do this…..If this happens, then I promise i’ll stop doing that….’ Like I’m redeeming my issues with the force of invisibility. Such as an entity, if you believe in that. No one rolls the dice or controls the outcome to anyone – but YOU! I put a lot of trust in the belief that positive thinking feeds the universe. Its unfortunate that too many people are tainted by outside forces such as opinions, false witnesses and even the evil internet to depend on an outcome.

Waiting sucks, but its a fact of life. Like Sleeping. They say you sleep a third of you life away. To me, that sounds like a sweet deal! I’m sure that statistic doesn’t work in my favor unless I was still 15 years old and can nap whenever I want. Unfortunately most adults do not have that advantage. If you’re lucky & not sleep deprived! it almost seems like a luxury for uninterrupted sleep once you have kids and have a spouse that seems to snore to contact alien life forms in twenty different ‘snore’ languages.

But here’s another sad fact of waiting that dictates life, is that it leads to procrastination. I think that everyone gets so use to ‘waiting’ being the norm, that they follow suit and everything to another day, moment, week, month or even year. ‘I’ll take the kids on a trip, when they’re older….I’ll buy that sexy bathing suit when I lost twenty pounds….I’ll buy that car when the van dies…..’. the cycle goes on and on and on. If you ‘wait’ for that invisible moment, it will never happen.

I’m not a life coach. I’m not a motivational speaker. I’m simply a person who has based their life on a lot of moments that have come and gone. I have always played it safe and as a result, I have lost out on some real life changing experiences, opting to wait for a time that would be more covenant.

So to that I say Life does not Wait.

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Making Friends

There I was grocery shopping in the middle of the afternoon looking for food bargains when I saw Charger Girl. She’s this lady about 35ish years old who lives in my area and drives a Dodge Charger – my ‘hopefully’ soon new ride. I had been in the market for one of these babies for about 2-3 years. About 3 years ago I couldn’t help but notice that there was one driving around my neighbourhood….teasing me…..taunting me. Not sure why this is my dream car? Maybe because it was stylish and looked cool. Well, cool enough for a four door sedan that is. It sure beats the Mom soccer van I had been driving since 2006. But since the luxury van was practically gifted I can’t exactly complain. That’s when I decided that I will drive it into the ground.

Jodi is her name. Not the car, but the Charger Girl. I saw her a few years back at a school function. I out right asked her; ‘If you had to buy another car again, would you still buy another charger?’ she responded with ‘Yes! Yes I would’. She had nothing but glowing reports on the handling and even though it was a RWD that didn’t act as a handicap.

SOLD! I didn’t know anyone that had one and she went on about how she wouldn’t get any other vehicle. Oh man…..I have to get me one of those! Last year I did take one for a test drive. Sweet Ride!

So here we were in the cheese/eggs section and I had to remark to her, ‘So….I noticed you went and bought a new Charger!’ I was giddy like a school girl. I have no problem living vicariously through others, call it a hobby. However we started talking more and I found out she lived a couple of streets over from me. She did, exactly black like her last one and of course she still had no complaint which is reassuring as my hunt for the perfect charger is narrowing in.

Then we started to talk about life in general. Her reason for being readily available in the middle of the day/week was that she took a 5 year leave of absence to raise her kids. Lucky witch! I explained my situation as to why I was wandering around in the middle of the day. Then suddenly she was tearing off a piece of cardboard within an arm’s reach and was jotting out her phone # and said we should get together for coffee. I have a friend. I in turn gave her my phone number. That was weeks ago. I have yet to call her. I’m not sure why. On one hand it is nice that we connected. But a part of me is guarded. I’ve always said ‘One cannot have enough friends!’ which is a beautiful sentiment. However I barely get out seeing the friends I already have. At this point of my life do I need to bond with someone I may never see again? Do I need another person to ‘Like’ me…..or even judge me? Probably not. I am very friendly and open so at this point in my life it’s kinda hard for a new person to ‘catch up’ and not really in the mood to divulge any personal or private mental inventories I have rolling around in my head.

Plain and simple; the older you get it is just as easy to make friends but a lot of work to keep those relationships, casual relationships. It’s a commitment of sorts….’It’s not you….it’s me’. So will I call her? Probably not. Then I think ‘HEY!’ she has my number too, how come she hasn’t called me? Tit for Tat.

 

 

 

Know When To Fold Them

There’s a lot to be said with gaining respect from your peers. One thing that is writer-related in my life was joining a Writer’s Circle several year’s ago. What this is, is a place to bring portions of your work, copies for about 5 other people. Then everyone shares their stories & gets to make suggestions for your work. I my previous years, I have attended Medicine Circles, Creative writing courses, how to get published courses, etc and found those to be an invaluable experience. So, in my mind, how better to gain experience from other like-minded individuals but to join a Writer’s circle, right? Wrong. Ask anyone, I appreciate opinions and ideas from others if it means increasing my ability to see my stories full-circle. But when you really, really think about it – why would I want to take criticism and judgement from other people I don’t even know? Practically Strangers. How can I trust them? Would you/ or I approach a stranger in the mall & say ‘Here’s my child, can you look after him for an hour?’ Of course not! (strong analogy, I apologize) Among the group of persons assembled was;

• Lawyer (a gentlemen that seemed a little more than uptight …..& constipated. Cracking a smile might crumbled his face.
• Older Lady # 1 whose main story was delightful and whimsically descriptive, about growing up on a farm in Africa or somewhere worldly, but lacking a realistic tone.
• Older Lady # 2 – who was on to something with her story, which had a good concept and was captivating. But when it came to giving opinions she seemed to forget that there was free-thinking world, down playing the posibilities in other people’s stories (I felt she was rather selfish in that regard, not very ‘warm’ considering her story was about an accidental fire <chuckle, chuckle>)
• Last but not least was the young girl who just recently arrived from BC where she had finished, so she said, University Degree in Creative Fiction or Literature or something like that. Credentials are alway impresseive til you see the bi-product. I found she couldn’t write herself outta of a wet paper bag. She would bring in a half-scripted idea on a story, she thought that she might possibly, coulda, sorta potentially might write about. My God! So unorganized, it was though it was an after thought! When she read out her idea, it wasn’t even a conceived thought. She might have as well had everything drafted out on paper napkins, then scotch taped together! Really? yes really. There were no formed sentences, there were no paragraghs as she read out loud and added her….’and then possibly the main character will do this, but i’m not sure maybe in 15 years; then the Grandmother will come see her, but she is the one that finds her, but then I”m thinking I’ll write about it this way, maybe that way, not sure yet’! Ug really ? wow. I honestly think a Grade 6  English teacher would flunk this girl.There’s a lot to be said for University Education versus life experince – True Dat!

Then finally there was another fellow, who I felt a kin-ship towards.

• The 6th writer- person to our ensemble. He was a High School English teacher, who was refreshingly down to earth and knew how to draw up a good story. His memories of growing up in the 60’s and 70’s were so accurate, it made you feel like you had first row in the chapters of his life. It kinda reminded me of those books my grade 6 teacher use to read called ‘Soup & Me’. His Recollection of those simpler times were so crisp and happened when sports was everything. His self reflective stories were really, really good.

In saying that, I would sit at the table (there was also a WPG-writer community, well-known/respected Moderator too) and would recite from my stories of darkness, treachery and payback to the shocked and otherwise snooty and jaw-dropped participants. It was clear that ‘They don’t get me’, or where my creative stories reside. My message of hopelessness and gut-wrenching, soul searching and critical thinking on my character’s part, was wasted on those sitting around the table. That’s fine. Nothing in common. I almost felt though my ‘peers’ were above me (expect for the HS English Teacher/Sports dude – he was pretty cool). I was clearly in the wrong group. I had realistic expectations. But felt outnumbered on the morality scale. One person (the Lawyer – no suprise there) felt obligated to make the comment:

‘Alluding to misconduct of potential molestation….you didn’t have to put that part in the story, you didn’t have to go that far?”

And of course the few others chimed in, as in agreement to his sentiments.

Really? so that doesn’t happen in real life – Sorry if I woke you up. Wow. So much for the creative process. Please continue to go through life with your eyes closed, and ignore the dark parts. I’ll go on my merry way with my creative process. So it is said, my writing isn’t for everyone, it wasn’t as though I went into extensive, graphic details. At that point now it isn’t constructive criticism; it is essentially trying to sway me from how I write. And with that, I didn’t return.

I felt empowered by that & have learned that writing is personal. Unless you know or understand that person, you can’t change how the writing evolves (please refer to Stephen King’s ‘On Writing’ book for more clarification) sometimes, the characters write themselves. The next time I do a Writer’s circle, it will be with other -Like-minded- individuals. But at least I retained Mr. English Teacher in my circle of FB friends, because he writes from the heart, and people I think respect that…….

 

 

Will Write For Food

My friends give me a hard time. By now everyone knows I’m off work for a bit to try and steer this thing called ‘my life’ <insert dramatics here>. Everyone is like ‘yeah sure you’ll wrap up everything in 2 months – then what? You’ll be bored !’ – definitely NOT . Once I’m done dealing with everything that has landed me where I am , such as my grandmothers estate, looking after my kids is my number one priority. I heart my little mini-ME’s even though the older one is taller than me now by at least 3 inches. If it weren’t for my kids, guaranteed my life would be different. Not necessarily for the better or the worst – just different.

For starters I probably would have taken the fork in the road, thrown caution to the wind and become a struggling writer. Life is short -follow your bliss. So I’ve delayed that by a few years plus thirty (but whose counting). I love exploring the ‘what ifs’ in life, not only the fictional variety but the stuff that life is made of. We are definitely trying to ride the wave or to enjoy the journey, not just trying to get through the icky day-to-day stuff. Now I sit here and I have just under three weeks left. I have accomplished so much and gained clarity.

However, or a big grammatical ‘BUT’, I am trying…in fact I am dancing as fast as I can to make my dream a reality. I am speaking of my writing wings and finding so much potential opportunity. The world is my oyster; nothing but positive thoughts about my work and where it fits in – on the grand scheme. I have subscribed to so many writing journals and magazines that advertise other publishers that are looking for story submissions. Some are online, some are actual printed material and others are contests of the both. Technology sure is swell.  Someone must want to read what I have to say, right? I can assure you that is the optimist in me  talking, rarely does my ego side step out of its broken little shell – it knows better.

To deal with my heartbreak and turmoil, back in the summer I wrote a Non-fiction story called, “Death In The Family”, sort of my version of a release, self therapy. Trust me – I did utilize an EAP psychologist through my work after my Grandmother passed away, and after the second visit I felt like all that was missing was this chick’s popcorn because I felt like I was strictly there for her entertainment. Yes, I know my life story is truly stranger than fiction, but sitting there while I’m trying to pour my heart out and rhetorically responding with,

     “NO ! that didn’t really happen…did it?” or my favorite,

    “Really? Really wow !  How do you handle that?”

Well, needless to say I did not go back – I was not impressed. I had to put down events as they happened in my own tragic words and didn’t need anyone to judge me.

There were a couple of days that it drained me just pumping out those first details on ‘Death In The Family’. I would go back and forth, as there were somethings that had relevance to stuff that happened as much as 20 years ago. But in less detail, as the story wasn’t all about me but mainly about my Grandparents. I don’t think no one would quite understand what I had to go through without putting in these details. The details I had encompassed before, when sharing events and happenings with my friends were strictly of the preverbal ice berg that brought down the Titanic (drama be thy name)

On the last brain beating or shall I say writing marathon I managed to pump out just over 4,000 words in one sitting! This was the one story I was contemplating on self publishing because it would be that large. My editor friend would never ever take this project on, I was sure of that! Well cheaper than quality therapy that’s for sure. Explains why I love killing off deadbeat characters in my horror fiction pieces <insert maniacal laugh>.

So I found a website by chance, that my story would be a good fit for. There are two problems with that though; 1) My story is far from finished 2) Stories submitted need to be between 5,000 to 30,000 words – dually noted. So, here I am hammering out as best as I can while drudging up memories, emotions and  the confusion that went with that moment. Except I’ve grown since many of those things happened, and feel that I can appropriately diagnose those situations that transpired. It has brought me here to where I am today. As I sit here today I know what it takes to be a writer, I know I have the drive, commitment and tenacity it takes to accomplish and achieve my goals. That being said, my break is over and I am at 6,317 words – only 23,683 to go!

A Fantastic Jouney

As I sit here in my ‘Think Tank’, formerly known as my teenage son’s room, I am relieved that I am sooooo close in re-organizing my growing mound of paperwork which has haunted me over the years. Its not just an adventure but a journey.

I am amazed and impressed by the notes I have collected over time, and yet have had the sense to store it in a safe place for a later ‘moment’. All those tiny little post it notes, mismatched line noted paper, and assorted recycled paper with my writings etched on the back, evidently it was whatever I had close at hand the moment an idea struck me. A moment much like this for when I can rediscover who I was at a place in time that I never knew future me could get to this point. I am far from successful in the writing field, as yet but have had minimal success. But growing as a person and learning so much along the way. It makes me chuckle a bit, how I wrote my notes, my ideas onto paper in hopes that one day they would become larger than life. It all starts from an idea or as I like to call it “What if?” I always have been lucky enough to boast, ‘my mind is a like a running faucet, so many ideas flow out that I constantly need to jot it down’. There is not a truer statement.

When I read my ramblings for most of them, it puts me back to that same frame of mind. I’m taken back to what it was to inspire me to write down some thoughts, my feelings and hopes which have never changed. I am resilient with my dreams, they never die. I somehow captured that time of my life and it is so clear what was going on whether it was the job I had, the place I lived or the children that were babies and now teenagers. I would even dare to say people who inspired me as well. Time flies in the blink of an eye. Unfortunately, the other 50 % of my brilliant ‘ideas’ were only half thoughts and not fully or dare I say clearly formed out. But that’s ok, that just challenges me more as a writer to build on the blocks that were strewn about. The beauty of creative fiction is that it is always new and evolving and may have benefited from being put aside, cause now with my more ‘mature’ stance on life, I may breath some fresh life into an old idea that was just safely idling.

Going back to the projects at hand, I’ve come across at least 4 folders that have notes on story ideas, book titles, screenplay ideas, etc. Amazing….simply amazing. If one of my projects took off tomorrow, guaranteed I would have enough work to keep me going till retirement – oh yes, there is seriously that much of what I had collected. I’m not bragging but stating a fact as I just wrapped up 2 weeks worth of cataloguing my large and small projects in anticipation of performing a submission blitz over the next 4 weeks. ‘Fly my Pretties! Fly!”  However that fails to include the recent projects I have had on the go (remember the faucet? I’ve left it on again)  such as partnering on a screen play for TV, writing Blues lyrics, and forging into the mysterious world of writing biographies on a freelance basis. I love to try all forms of writing….I love to be challenged.

Ah yes, four weeks. Like a bladed pendulum that swings above my head, positioning itself directly across my neck. No, no drama here. Four weeks till I need to report back to work – the real world.  The time once again slipped through my fingers. I was distracted by life…family. In four weeks I will not squander what I have left. I will use my voice and challenge myself to submit 5 stories a day. Before I had no will to write or would that be no gumption to submit…If YOU don’t submit your writing anywhere YOU are already rejecting YOURSELF!. But now with my own private space, I again feel the need and creative powers surge through my veins. I am inspired to create. I was born to write.

Meta – Whatta?

Well….I thought I was onto something. I read. Not alot, I should probably read more since I’m a writer and all. That’s Uncle Stevie’s prescription (Stephen King). Right now I’m doing research and think I’m going to try and up my game in the writing world. (To be revealed shortly) I found somethings I could use, or so I thought.

Several weeks back I went to ‘Horror Con’, kinda like Comic Con but centralizing on the Horror-aspect of books, movies and parphenalia. Kinda cool. Good idea. It was pretty small though which was a bit disappointing, however I went for my curiousity’s sake with the family. Nothing says family-bonding more than blood… Bloody, gory, mutalations…. You get where I’m going with that ? Having free tickets didn’t hurt either. It saved us $30. Our youngest didn’t go, cause even though she’s our Halloween baby – she’s the opposite and not into that ‘stuff’ – she’s kinda like our token Marilyn aka The Munsters.

To my surprise, there were local writers there. I had not anticipated that and delighted to find my ‘kin-animal’ so to say. I don’t get to socialize with writers much, we are a very fickle, loner species. (Don’t get me started in on that Writers circle I enrolled in a few years back – one of the worst decisions of my life!) So I wanted to pick their brains. It was interesting to say the least. There was even a ‘Business Person’ there from the Interlake who specializes in writers Self Publishing (go ahead….help yourself to that pie) who coincedentally writes herself, and charges others to get their ‘stuff’ out there, charges to enter their contests and charges to put their stories in her anthologies (see where I’m going with this)…..no thank you. But I was professional, charming and didn’t come off as standoffish as I believe everyone deserves the chances to talk…..mind you I didn’t really care for what this person had to say. I have a sixth sense on when people believe in themselves or just believes in the BS they perpetuate – again, No Thank you – but good luck in your future endeavours, I thought to myself as I walked away. When I found her brochure just the other day in my stack-o-paper on my desk, I didn’t even waste my time in reviewing. I personally was unimpressed and had a gut ‘feeling’ on it. Now, back to the others I interacted with.

We had gone later in the day to this convention, so unfortunately, I had missed talking to a person of interest that might have been able to direct my inquiries in a different direction and given me some insight (especially since after the fact found we had a mutual friend – hopefully I can still reconnect at some point) This leaves the 2 other self-published authors who are local. I always hold promise, cause I want to know if we are ‘like-minded’;  lost souls swimming in the literally world, like myself looking for recognition and the ability to generate independent income. After brief discussions I was impressed with both. I needed a formula, the magic key. Both writers were friendly, open and gave open thoughts on Kindle, self-publising and the perserverance it takes to ‘Make-it’.

So, back in my ‘Think Tank’, I thought to myself, ‘I’ll check out their websites to get more intel on just what it takes to promote and what is necessary to display on an actual Writer’s Website. I already have a website and have been revamping for like a year or more. (Less is more – right?) Well the girl I spoke with, who had been doing this for 10 years and seemed to be reasonably successfull at it turned out to be a different bird. She has more than one website. The top 5 google searches returned finds on her books available, but then other stuff came up that I didn’t not see coming. At this point I won’t say the names of either writer, because these are just my own views. The first name specific website in particular, displays her name as a DOCTOR, a PHd in Metaphysical/parapsychology. Her business card failed to identify herself in this light….not of the same species. Interesting……I’m not knocking this, in fact its kinda cool, I would be all over this kinda stuff. I would take a course on this in an instant! But then it went further into the other things she does to make a living….online psychic healer….Oh Snap!……Wa-Wa-Waaaaaaa. Don’t get me wrong I’m all over that stuff – I e been fascinated with the occult since I was a kid. As Mulder would say ‘I BELIEVE!!!’ But my logical mind threw up that proverbial ‘red flag’. I go to the odd card reader, maybe once a year. But when I get a hoaky reading, unless I hear of someone that is ‘good’, I won’t waste my money for years till i find just the right one with the gift. I’ve been doing this since I was 14 years old so I am seasoned and hold critisizm for just reasons.

Still I had so much hope to use this writer as a bench mark. Tried and true; success comes in many forms. I can’t blame her, a girl has to do what a girl has to do to make a living and put bread on the table, gas in the car, pay the iPhone bill….Netflix… Don’t forget to keep that account active!  I guess, so who am I to judge? Moments like this I’m so glad I didn’t shell out that $30 to the entrance fee for the Horror Con.

Time to look up Writer #2..Will I be disapointed? Will his website provide any direction or insight? Well, he was selling his own book at the booth on ‘How to Self Publish” only $10 WHAT A DEAL!! (he has self published 10 books and sold thousands of them – approximately- he was saying) A sign…I need a sign. Maybe I should call up the doctor, and get a reading….she would know what to do.

Tripping Down Memory Lane

“OUCH!” thats going to leave a mark, I thought to myself as I tripped over the pile of memorbilia littering my newly minted office. Well not new. Well, not exactly an office. Formerly the room my first born child lived in for 12 years has now been transformed into my ‘think tank’. Will I be productive? Who knows! Thats the beauty of life. I’ve been more productive in my new digs in the last several weeks than I had been in the last couple of years in my shared basement office.

I like dwelling on the past. I love the memories I share with my familly and my friends. Its been a lifetime journey, as I sit here and ponder over the lego sets fully assembled and adorning the shelves over my head. Why didn’t I send them downstairs to my son’s newly christened ‘bachelor pad’, you may ask? He didn’t mean to leave them behind, or is it maybe I didn’t let him choose to take them? Where they are now, they are safe from harm and accidental dismantle.

I clearly remember him ravaging a new box of star wars and POTC lego sets, some so complex they came with 2, not 1 instruction manuals. He would devour and follow every step to the last lego block. Meticulously he was a profectionist. Hours on end, and would not stop assembling. The passion this little kid had for lego from the time he was around 7 or 8 till just past twelve years old was magical. Most of these sets were put together while he would stay at my Grandparents house, up the street, till I came to claim him and his sister after I got off of work. It occupied him. No – thats wrong, it did more than just that. It fueled his imagination, inventing his own worlds, concepts and incluenced his ability to create! Once put together, he would then play with his ships and reeact scenes from the movies as well invent new scenarios. It was magic in the making.

These sets would soon be replaced with guitars. FIrst a classical, then a black electric Vendetta, and then a Fender Bullet Strat, a 12 string accoustic, and lastly…..but we all know it won’t be the last – a Fender Squier Bass. Meticiausly he plays all, rotating each and perfecting his technique and creating his own magic, just like he did with the lego.
It all starts with lego. The time was not wasted….nor was the money, even though at the time it seemed like a small fortune.

So I sit among the remnants of my son’s childhood like souvenirs from a sliver in time when everything seemed complicated but good (did I mention the bowling trophies? ‘Bowler of the Year’ 2 years running – Shamelss proud mama moment). I’ve replaced his posters with my own remnants of a cork board adorned with my own assembly of memories, but plenty room to add ideas to. The white board that had been kicking around on the floor in the basement for years for my daughter and others to doodle on, finally had acheived its purpose and has its own wall for me to adorn more ideas that might go somewhere, one day. Funny how we accumulate stuff with the anticipation that one day it will come handy. I did retain custody of my sons’ autographed Johnny Depp picture, but since I helped him get it, I keep it in my office, along there JD posters.

Within the walls of my office, I now get to prominently place and put up things that were apart of my childhood and teenage years. We won’t talk about the empty Jack Daniels bottle sitting on the corner of my desk – Year 16 was a confusing, but good year to be had in my world. Be it the 90’s CDs and homemade 80’s tapes that have songs that were bootlegged off the radio, as many of us kids did back in the day. Waiting for the DJ to announce the next song so we could perfectly hit that record button at just the right time as the latest hit song started and smoothly hit pause before the end, preventing it from running into the next ‘gross’ song or commerical. The business cards from jobs long gone sit along my corkboard, as do the dozen or so driver license photos that capture the good and the bad. The inspiration that sits in front of me, with inspriational messages ‘Thank you for the properity & abundance that comes into my life in Expected and Unexpected ways!” , holds the same amount of weight as the obits of passed relatives, the light that was and the memories of those special to me to make me the person I have become today. Never forget humility. Never forget the humour either, as I have a few favourite comics crumpled and stained, cut from the newspaper, pinned to the board above my head – but still bring a smile to my face.

So I sit here…..5 weeks left till I face the real world. Should I have jumped sooner on the writer thing? Problably, but i’s always been there and always will be there. TIming is everything. My new office might just be my saving grace in my 11th hour…. you just never know. Never give up on your dreams because everything happens in its own time for a reason.

The Passing

I’m still quite not myself. However, I had no way to explain the oddest feeling I had while grocery shopping yesterday. The easiest way is dread. I was swept over by this feeling of dread around 11 am. Not anxiety, not panic. I was very much in control of my shopping cart weaving in and out of other shoppers. But just the most overwhelming feeling that something, some where was not right. I’ve had this feeling a few times before in my life. Usually its followed by hearing someone close was in an accident, or has passed away. I will spare all the non believers out there, but i’ve always had a certain sense of a sixth undeveloped sense. Maybe its undeveloped for a reason, a choice as oppossed to a blessing or a need to learn more about the unknown. My mentality is safer as such of what little is left many could argue. Then moments after that I was overcome by this feeling of despair that I just couldn’t shake, I made my way down the next few more aisles trying to regroup and shop for what as on my list but could not focus. Then my eyes seemed to feel swollen and allergic to something. There was construction in the store and figured maybe dust.

The flourscent lights were buzzing and annoyingly bright about, so maybe I was just overtired and more sensitive. But again, this sense of unbalance that struck me out of nowhere was unshakeable. My eyes felt like the after effect of having cried for days on end, in grief. Almost like a little child who hyperventilates when they cry in disbelief. I had had a minor head injury days prior and had been gushing blood perfusely, but too much vanity crept into my head to get it properly checked out in fear that the top of head would have been shaved. I, at that time, in a moment of shock had cried because I as scarred with the amount of blood that seemed to pour continueously of my wound down the back of my head, through my hairline, flowing over my neckline and into my bra. Needless to say I was freaked out and the pain was immense. But in reality I had been crying maybe 10 – 15 minutes. Coincedentally, my ‘accident’ happened just prior to leave the house to go grocery shopping two days prior. So here I now was shopping like I should have been days before. But still I knew that this wave of sadness I was drowning in, was nothing to what I could compare to, however I knew enough that it was not in relation to my injury. Someone had died.

Later that day, as I was explaining this unexplainable emotion to my husband, he spoke up to tell me that just that morning he found out a coworker (but noone I recalled ever meeting) had inexplicably passed away the day before. This was sad to hear, as they were a small enough group in their department and the man had been admitted during the weekend with flu-like symptoms so they were not sure yet what took the man’s life, who was only in his early to mid-fifties. But that wasn’t it. For as closenness in what this man was in my husband’s work life, this was not it. This was not the warning sign I was experiencing. It was enough of a jolt that I felt the need to call close friends, or people I knew had been sick to find out if they were ‘ok’ but degressed to not pick up the phone or text. More of a selfish factor indeed, because if they are going to pass, noone can control or prevent it; thats life.

The next morning I received a text from my childhood friend. We had grown up across the street, so to say, from one another. She was one of my first friends, and was even in my wedding party. Since my grandparents raised me, their house was my first house. and my friend’s Grandmother lived in the house on the corner of the same bay. Her Grandmother owned and lived in her house with her elderly mother, my friend’s Great Grandmother. Since my friend’s mother was divorced, she spent alot of time between her Mother’s house and her grandmother’s house, almost like me. Years later when we were in our early thirties, her Great Grandmother passed away at the age of 101 years. Then eventually, her Grandmother moved into a Seniors care home to live out her remaining years, in the safety of this care home as she had been prone to falls which my friend’s mother would not longer be able to predict or prevent for when she was around (she had moved in with her elderly mother soon after the Great grandmother passed away).

Of late, her Grandmother had stopped eating and as nature would have it she passed away yesterday afternoon. Was this why I felt so off? I had known this woman all my life. People getting old and then dying sucks. Her Grandmother was 88, 3 months short of her 89th birthday and coincedentally my Grandmother was 88, 2 months short of 89 when she passed. You never get used to the idea of change, no matter what form it comes in. My friend is starting the grieving process with her mother, who tends to be a little selfish as is my own mother, another thing we have in common. So in some ways, she is grieving on her own. The problem is with only-children (which I am as well) the famillies get smaller, and smaller, but you always truly feel like you are alone.