So I got the chance to sit down and talk to Jackie Chin from Zombiepalooza. And I didn’t blow it. I was definitely nervous but I had a lot of fun! If you have not checked her out, then you really should.
Category: inspiration
Reminiscent
Bare feet
And heavy dreams.
Atop the sky,
Life was eternal it seems.
Hidden forts,
Behind bleachers,
In the trees.
Running about pretending
That we would always be,
Friends and dreamers
In infinity.
Innocence a haze,
Setting the tone,
Childhood a state
Best when not alone.
An introduction to the castle on the Island of Truth
The castle has been there for two millennia, home to beauty and tragedy. Most of it’s history has been revealed, or so it is believed. Built of solid stone, blood and sweat. Dreams of happiness hide in the darkened corners inhabited by the ghosts of the castles grisly history.
Lovingly restored before it drove it’s owner insane. Now, a group of ghost hunters seek to explore the castle and discover the secrets that lie within. Five go in, how many will survive? And will they have their sanity in the end?
Keep an eye out for information on Madness and Truth. By Serena Mossgraves.
Blog Hyginks
So yesterday I was a busy blogger. I really should be more regular in my posts…. But I am not good at regular. Now that I have the app on my phone it is more likely. I am a creature of convenience. I try to improve my actions, I try to get into the habits that I want to have. Still routine is not easy for me. My life is very chaotic. I warned you with the tagline… Lol. Crazy rarely is predictable. Still, when trying to deal with a blog, and selling what I wrote, I am aware that if there is no updates then I will have no readers. So I will attempt to do better. If nothing else, I will try to share some of the awesome blogs that I read.
Meet Serena Mossgraves
So I decided that I needed a pen name. I am a poet and a children’s author. The last few stories I have felt inappropriate for children. So I decided that I might want a adult name for the tales that do not fit. Now being as I struggle with doing the blog at all…. I really don’t want to separate the blog for both names. I plan instead to note which of the two is the author if I speak of my writing. Thank you for understanding.I am hoping to update this blog a bit more often now as my phone has the app.
Awareness
I read something last week that has been bouncing around in my head. As I was not planning to write about it, I did not save the blog link, or I would refer to it. I enjoy reading and on any given day read a dozen different blogs. Most do not stick around taking up head space. This one did. The gist of the blog was that though it had been a bad year, perhaps it was not as awful as it seemed. It spoke about how we are exposing ourselves to news in a constant barrage. The blog likened it to an assault on the senses. Now it is that idea that has been bouncing.
Is the level of available information a bad thing? As a writer I enjoy being able to research anything whenever I want. However, I have had days where opening social media was oppressive. Simply because of the horrible things man does to each other. I remember that my grandma did not watch the news and did not read the paper. She was able to be blissfully ignorant unless she chose otherwise. She was one of the most intelligent people I have ever known. Now we assault ourselves with the news and wonder why we are depressed. I can’t help but think that there must be a better way.
Labels
So I have my entire life been unable to fit exactly any label. I was sporty, nerdy, geeky, a loner, a bookworm, social, antisocial, introvert, extroverted, a joiner…well you can see where I am going with this. It was not a true issue for me, and was all in the same breath. I always felt like I was on the outside. I laugh… I collect labels… But then I would hide the fact that it hurt. Why should I be a label? I have never been very good at limiting myself…
That being said…. My twelve year old is very much like me. She is fluid in who she is and what she does. She asked me today…. Mama why do people have to label each other? Why can’t they just accept that each person grows and change with each passing day? …….how is it that this child who has not yet reached even a decade and a half umderstands something that eludes over half the human race?
Perhaps we need to learn instead of separately labelling each other, to instead celebrate the uniqueness that is the human race.
Next Time You See Me
The next time you see me
I will have changed,
Even if it is only a day
In between.
The next time you see me
My views of the world
Will have taken me
Down places that I may not
Even be able to explain.
The next time
you see me
Wish me well,
As I will you…
For you can never know
When the next time
You see me will
Be our last.
Define Art
According to Wikipedia… An artist is : An artist is a person engaged in one or more of any of a broad spectrum of activities related to creating art, practicing the arts or demonstrating an art. The common usage in both everyday speech and academic discourse is a practitioner in the visual arts only.
I find myself so often considering whether or not I should use the title of artist. I know that I am an artist… But I feel like what I do doesn’t seem as good. Yes this is my anxiety talking. But part of the issue is art is truly subjective. I can look at a picture and feel like it is genius, and then you can look and see it as garbage. The same thing goes for any kind of art…. Paintings, poetry, yarnwork, music. With no baseline to measure the art against, is it really any wonder how many artists fail to have strong self esteem? Add the fact that you then are expected to, if you want to make a living from the art, find the way to sell these small expressions of your soul. It takes a huge amount of courage to even show another soul what you have done. Then deciding what you are worth? Bah I see it as nearly crippling.
Saved
I wrote it all down,
All the hate, anger,
All the pain, emotional drain.
I wrote in ink on paper,
As if that made it less real.
I included the ecstasy,
And all the joy.
Then I folded it as small
As I possibly could,
So it would take less space.
I hid it in a box,
Away in some forgotten place.
The paper keeps the memory
That I was unable to truly bear,
Stored away from having to care.
Pattimouse 