Tag: Life

A decade in review

Wow. A whole decade. Doesn’t sound like much… Especially after you reach a certain age. Ten years ago I published my first volume of poetry. A Pocketful of Poetry was a dream my whole life. I did not like the idea that the publisher could change the words and appearance of my poetry. So, for me, it was something that had to be just a dream until I could do it myself. I looked into self publishing… And initially all that I could find was the pay as you print options. That is not how I wanted to do things. And along came Amazon with Kdp. Suddenly indie publishing was a more viable option. Suddenly I could have a dream come true.

In the interim, I have published a lot more books. Some as me, some as Serena. 3 kids’ books, 1 novella, 1 novel, 1 anthology, 1 memoir, and 18 poetry volumes. I have been published in several literary magazines. It is very surprising what can happen in 10 years.

On a personal level, I have moved from Oklahoma back to West Virginia. I have always been a West Virginia girl, so I was miserable in Oklahoma. I have lost a hundred pounds. I have become more confident about my art and myself.

So I am ready for all that the 20’s have for me. Are you?

Thursday Tea Party

Hiya lovelies! Today is a simple black tea with honey kind of day. Today is a light news day. I find myself sitting here with no announcements to share. I do realize how rare that is.

It makes me wonder that most Thursdays I have so much to say. We have been doing this tea party for most of 2019, and this is the first time I have been without any announcements to impart.

Next week I am probably not going to post on Thursday. Here in America, next Thursday is Thanksgiving. A day of indulgence where we are supposed to be grateful for all of the blessings in our lives. Grateful, I am. Even if some days gratitude comes at a price of self-doubt and self introspection.

However it is usually a day of family and food. I plan on enjoying both.

Monday mehs

So I normally post poetry on Monday… But I am exhausted. I will explain why in a truth is stranger than fiction type way. Last week was just all around awful. I am an introvert to my core. Well my boyfriend has decided to expand my daughter’s bedroom as her Christmas gift. Now that wall he wants to remove is the original outside wall of the house. The porch has since been made into another room. So that wall is load bearing. So he had two separate contractors come in to do an estimate. The first ones gave all three of us the willies. He didn’t seem to know what to do with the wall… The second one was so much better.

Most of the rest of the week was sick and pain. Nothing terribly unusual, just all together adding to the ick factor of the week… And then Friday hit.

My front door was broken for a while. We had it fixed, but we are not used to the door being right. So we use the deadbolt mostly. The bottom lock is only used when someone is home. I honestly thought that there was only one key… Well the boyfriend was half dead with exhaustion. We were taking him to work so I could use his vehicle to do shopping in the morning. He works midnight to 9. My blazer has 2 flat tires, one has a nail. So I think that he locked the bottom lock on habit. My daughter, being last out, locked the deadbolt. Well we get back to find that both locks are engaged. We checked to see if there was any other way in. I called a friend who is a local locksmith… All to no avail. Then…I get the bright idea to check the keys on my chain that I was not sure of. Yeah I had a key to the door… So that was a high stress that had my daughter and I standing in 35°F weather for about 10 minutes when we did not have to.

So I have been moving stuff to allow for the expansion, and dealing with the stress. And the result is I am so exhausted that I can’t think straight, much less create. I should be back on track with my posts tomorrow. Thank you for understanding.

A Mad Poet’s Thoughts On Life

There are three things which dictate the way we live: the society we’re born into, the experiences which impact us, and the reality which we choose to believe in.

None of us can help the first two. No one gets to decide the time, place, or family they’re born into and, while we may have some control over our experiences in general, the things which impact us the most are usually out of our control.

It’s “thing” number three on the list which us mad people are experts at: reality. Or, rather one’s choice of reality.

Oh, you think reality is a fixed thing, do you? It’s solid, reliable, steadfast, and true? Well, my dear reader, allow a mad mind to enlighten you with one simple question….

Can you describe the color blue?

“Of course I can, you mad writer! Blue is…well…it’s blue- The color of the sky, of the ocean, of…those raspberry-flavored ice-pops from my childhood!”

Okay, now go and ask someone who grew up in Alaska or India or Japan, for that matter. Is their version of blue the same as yours? No. It isn’t. Better yet, ask a widower whose wife’s favorite color was blue to describe it. Then, ask a woman who’s color blind. Ask yourself the meaning on a sunny day and one on a day full of storms and sorrow.

Reality is fluid, flexible and the reason for this is because it changes based on our perception of the moment at hand. Want to know the secret to a mad life full of adventures? It’s quite simple:

Choose The Reality You Want To Live

Mad people get it because we already don’t like to be held down by something as paltry as reality. We understand from quite a young age that reality is meant to be questioned, to be rebelled against, to be contorted to our own quirky wills.

How do we do this? By choosing what we want to be true and then making it so:

  • The world isn’t crashing down around me; it’s just raining opportunities.
  • It’s not a failure; it’s just a fantastic way to learn.
  • Thank God I was wrong! Being right all the time is boring.
  • It’s okay if he/she doesn’t like me. I don’t need anyone’s approval to be awesome.
  • I’m not broke; I just spent too much on being responsible.
  • I’m not lost; I’m just on an adventure.
  • This job isn’t boring; it’s just making it easier to have fun when I’m off.
  • Maybe it isn’t loneliness. Maybe it’s boot camp for self-love.
  • It’s not daydreaming. It’s idea cultivation.
  • Life truly is an adventure.

“You can’t help that. We’re all mad here.”

-Cheshire Cat

Do you have any mad sayings that help you choose your reality? Share them with us!

Quicksilver poetry

Who will write the obituary

For the lost soul,

The one that hid from the world

Any truth of identity?

Too many times when

Hands stretched forth,

They were smacked away

Feelings pulled astray.

Lies, they called,

Sure that the truth denied.

So who writes the obituary,

When no one saw the truth

In what was said?

Tuesday Tunes

Pink Floyd – Another Brick in the Wall

Lyrics ~

We don’t need no education
We don’t need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teachers leave them kids alone
Hey, teachers, leave them kids alone
All in all it’s just another brick in the wall
All in all you’re just another brick in the wall
We don’t need no education
We don’t need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teachers leave those kids alone
Hey teachers, leave those kids alone
All in all you’re just another brick in the wall
All in all you’re just another brick in the wall
“Wrong, do it again! Wrong, do it again!”
“If you don’t eat yer meat, you can’t have any pudding
How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat yer meat?”
“You, yes, you behind the bike sheds, stand still, laddy”

My two cents ~

Ok. I promised to give you a story last week. I had my first child at fourteen. I was six weeks late starting high school as he was born on September the first. Talk about hell. Starting a new school late and for such a scandalous reason. I was so nervous. I was terrified.

One of my step brothers was dating this amazing girl. She was held back a couple of years, and was so beyond caring about the “social norms”. Our school had the main entrance into the cafeteria. She knew the day I was starting. She knew how scared I was. So I got off of the bus, and saw her sitting there at the doors with a boombox (it was 1989.) Seeing me, she hit the button. Out of the speakers, at a volume that shook the glass in the doors of the cafeteria, she blasts that song. It started my high school career off on a better note. I was laughing. I was suddenly feeling like I was accepted. This song has been that feeling for me ever since.

Thursday Straight Talk (a day early)

Tw: mention of abuse, suicide, and rape.

I have ptsd. This is not something that I tend to talk about often because it has a stigma attached. I get claustrophobic. I hyperventilate. I dissociate. I struggle with the urge to hide. I am an insomniac. I am a survivor. None of the things I have listed make me a bad person. Most are the result of trauma and of keeping myself so hypervigilant for so long. I see a doctor. I take meds. Some days are better than others. I have learned coping methods. I have learned to be aware of my triggers. No I am not a snowflake. No I don’t have to have a safe place. I don’t even know what a safe place is. I take life one day at a time. I have panic moments as so many people do. They are from knowing that real monsters exist in this world. Monsters that hide in human skin. I am not suicidal. I really don’t want to die. However on my bad days I find that I wish I had never been born. I struggle with telling my story. I spoke my truth. I was called a liar. I came forward with one piece… And was not believed. I only told one person, because I was a child. If a child tells you their pain… Believe them. For you may be the only one they tell. My journey has been long. I was so fractured that I had at one point nearly 13 separate “alters” I am down to two. I used to have nightmares nightly. I am down to on average twice a month. Struggling with this does not make me less. I have come an amazingly long way… From losing months of time to now I lose an hour rarely. I am healing.

This is not something that I expected to post, if I am honest. I am careful about letting this all be “known” because I have others in my life that I know are embarrassed when the topic comes up. I have no reason for embarrassment. I am not ashamed of who I am. But, I love them. So I hold my tongue sometimes. However, I have been thinking about it. Perhaps it is not the right thing to do. I think that perhaps sharing the struggle might be more helpful for others who are struggling. I don’t know if I will share the details, yet.

I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. The man who did it abused others. He served time for one, and only one, of his victims. He has never been to court for what he did to me.

I survived a gang rape. And I survived another rape.

I survived domestic violence, by more than one of my relationships. My current love is the first time I have not been physically abused by the man in my life.

I have been homeless. I have been without food. I learned how to survive in each of these cases.

I have done things that I was not proud of. Hasn’t everyone? So, if I have a bad day… I might post some depression memes on social media. My poetry may get a bit darker. My art angrier.

Still. I survive. I am always here ready to listen. I understand what survival costs. Some days are better than others. Today I did not sleep. My mind would not quiet. Today my mind was attacking me with my faults in litany. Tomorrow may be better.

I know that this is published on Wednesday. I will post the art for Wednesday a day late because I think that this is important.

If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, the Trevor Project at 1-866-488-7386 or text “HOME” to 741-741. Head here for a list of crisis centers around the world.

If you or a loved one is affected by sexual abuse or assault and need help, call the National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline at 1-800-656-4673 to be connected with a trained staff member from a sexual assault service provider in your area.

Writing Friday

Writing. Crap. What do I say? Do I sit here and try to explain that, at least for me, writing is something akin to breathing? That there’s never been a time when I didn’t need to put words together? And then I would have to tell you just how it feels to read what I wrote and think that I am not cut out for this. How many people who I know personally who are brilliant at this whole writing gig. Still… I would have to mention that the idea of stopping is actually painful. It has been how I was able to see the answers to life, since before I ever realized that there was a question.

Usually, I try to use the Friday post to give tips, and help with the whole writing and publishing thing. And I think that is great to keep the blog going… But today I was thinking about the reason why I write. Yeah… I could probably claim that I was trying to add beauty. But I don’t generally lie. My art is more how I do beauty. Abstract and pencil drawings to encourage happiness in the eye of the beholder. My children’s books are a way of connecting with my daughter, as they have thus far been stories I told her, or wrote for her. Serena’s stuff is stories that I want to read. But if I am honest with myself… My main writing is my poetry.

My poetry will never be hallmark stuff. My poetry is raw emotion and survival. I have lived a survivors life. My poetry is how I have been able to express myself even when my voice was stolen. I could write my story… Even though I was being told I lied. I could write it and it was accepted because it was poetry. It was written in a way that meant I was non-threatening to those who were part of hurting me. And it was written off as just an angsty teen writing depressing poetry… For don’t we all have that stage?

After I was free, and I was no longer needing verse to speak my truth, well it was still the easiest way to speak my pain. To spread my views. It was habit. I may never be able to sit along with the likes of Poe or Dickenson… But my words will remain. I will be there when another lost soul seeks to know that they are not alone.

Time flies

Tuesday I did a “date” with my teenage daughter. This is time for her and I where she is the absolute center of my attention. Don’t get me wrong… She always has my attention. However, as mom, there is a million things that have my attention. Our dates are where dad, house, writing, and other assorted hats that I wear are thrown in the closet for the time we are together. This time we watched some television (her choice of shows) and made bath bombs.

Bath bombs are apparently more her craft than mine. She was brilliant with the crafting. Hers stayed together better, and generally were neater.

Making bath bombs were easy and fun. The recipe we used was:

1 cup baking soda

1/2 cup Epsom salts

1/2 cup citric acid

1/2 cup corn starch

1 tbsp water

1 tbsp mineral oil

1 tsp essential oil

4-6 drops food color

She made some neat variation in the color of the bombs. I only had picked up a very basic mold set as I was unsure whether or not we would enjoy it or not. She wants to continue with crafting them, so I have been eyeballing some other equipment on Amazon.

Y’all would not believe the mess this made. My dining room is covered in a layer of dust.

Black food coloring comes out a dark green.

You really have to put some pressure on the mold to get the bombs to hold together. There is a definite need for patience with this.

I was responsible for the “half ” bombs. One I made split after being set to the side to dry. The bombs need to sit for 48 hours to dry.

Mistakes were made. But isn’t that part of the fun?

The drying rack at the end of the making. All in all the bath bombs were not incredibly expensive to make. Walmart carries many of the supplies cheaply. It was a fun adventure with my girl.

Tuesday Tea party

I have some announcements and I just generally felt like rambling a bit. First… Let’s get the announcement portion done.

This week my writing advice on Friday will be about poetry. Depending upon the response I may do more about poetry. We will see.

I have been accepted to write poetry for Creative Risings Ezine. I will be posting the links and information as I have it. However, I do think that this issue is going to be amazing. Not only is the topics interesting, but the creators are an amazing bunch.

Under the mists is in the editing process. The stories are all really good. I am personally excited to be working on this project.

I have submitted some poems to a couple of lit mags. I await to hear if that will bear fruit. If it does, I’ll be posting links and probably a bunch of excited whoops. Lol

Ink Splashes has been flowing. I just started it a couple of days ago and I already have 17 poems out of the 70.

The first week in June, from the 3rd until the 7th, I will not be posting any posts. I am going on a road trip to see my brother, my son, my grandson, my dad, and my aunt and her family. It’s not that the trip is all that far. It will be around 550 miles round trip. I just plan to focus on my family for the trip.

Whew. That was a lot of announcements. I feel like I am forgetting something. Y’all already know that Dream Drips was released. I have been doing reasonably well at posting on my Patreon. There have been a couple of art delays where I had to post it the next day. I have caught up both times. I have been collecting art prompts, so I can keep doing a daily sketch for patreon… And because it helps me improve.

I try to set goals for myself and the stuff like writing and art. My writing goal is 500 words or a poem a day. I used to include a blog post as a “or” in that but I have gotten my blog posts on a schedule… Somewhat. With 500 words it gives me leeway. My children’s books are often less than 5000 words in total. Honestly the current W. I. P. Is middle grade and will be longer than the others. However, if I am working on Serena’s stuff… Well 500 words is better than none. Slow progress is better than none. Well, even though I love to draw… I have been avoiding setting a goal.

Then I was scrambling for content for patreon. I have been doing mostly writing here. So I needed something that I was not really doing here. I wanted to feel like my patrons were getting some unique content. So when I read about the mermay drawing challenge, I figured it was worth a shot. And I also about the same time decided to do a digital art piece here for Wordlessly Wednesday. So, I think it is time to add an art goal. Besides the digital piece for here on Wednesday, I am going to attempt a drawing of some sort daily. It is how I will improve.

Wow, I said rambling but this post ended up way longer than I intended. So tell me, is there something that you want to see me draw?