I love to talk to smart, intelligent people. I love being friends with people who possess knowledge. I want to bask in their copious collection of information. Be it useless information, random information, useful information...all of it fascinates me especially if it's something I don't know already. People who are smart ignite a fire in my mind and brain and soul. I don't consider myself super intelligent. I mean, I'm no genius but I love to learn. And being around and talking to smart people....well I'm hoping it rubs off on me. Like when a group of girls hang around each other long enough, their cycles start to sync. Contagious.
I also adore happy people. I adore them for their smiles and cheerful faces no matter what is happening in life. The roofs of their homes could be falling down around them and fire licking at their feet, they still are grateful for the breath of life and the people they love around them. So, I guess it's more happy, grateful people. The kind who don't take too much for granted and are always mindful of those around them and their happiness. The happy people who want to share their joy rather than hog it all and hide their light under a bushel so to speak. And they're usually so positive. Never the nay sayers. Always confident of the light and life around them. And willing to throw a smile your way or a joke or impart a kind gesture to you. These people fascinate me as well because I think I've just had my fill of negative, Debbie downers...you know, those people who are always woe is me...life sucks...blah blah blah.
So I've improved my attitude and outlook on life almost 100% by surrounding myself with these type of people and purging the negative, icky, bitter people from my life, as much as I could, that is. Some people you just have to keep. But most of my friends and colleagues are smart, happy, positive, life-loving individuals ready to embrace all facets of life, including the really bad and ugly. They keep the FUN in every day living and find new ways to live life to the fullest.
Demons
It was "one of those days..." You get up on the sunny side, cheerful, content, bright-eyed and full of energy. Life is comfortable finally. You think you've faced all the demons you can and conquered every one of them. And then, there in the seemingly innocent yet menacing shadows lurks the one demon you know can destroy you. The one that can rip your soul to shreds and leave you in a pile of meaningless smoke and dust. Leaving you to smolder and wisp away in endless misery and doom. This demon, with it's beady green eyes and spiked, loathsome fuzz, glaring at you, paralyzing you in your tracks with that penetrating, invading gaze. You bow your head, praying. Please don't let me lose it. Please, please, please let this pass. But you feel it's ever omnious presence. And your forced to face it, to look at it head on and cry, shiver and pee in your pants. You taste the bile pushing it's way up your throat and buckle as your insides churn, roiling in fear, sadness, and hopelessness. You wonder when it will end. An eternity of this? Yes, I can see how this could be Hell. With the sticky, thickness of gloom and a dark void that never empties and never fills. You would rather die and die and die again just to find reprieve from the uncertainty. The end will never come and that is the scariest part. How can a soul endure?
Yeah...that's the jist of my day. Flashback upon flashback of a time in my life that was very low...perhaps my lowest point in life. A time where mortality became all to real and all too personal. To face death and not go beyond the veil...and wonder. The tragic finality of that night or early morning. When everything seemed to fall apart and I turned within and kept within myself. The memories flooded back today with a vividness that just rocked my emotions and mentally disabled me for a bit. Vomit flew. Tears welled. And I just felt an overwhelming desire to disappear. She is nothing. I don't fear her. But her presence reminds me of the things I fear. The things I remember that have been repressed by my choice so as not to lose myself in the wallowing. Her presence perpetuates this unstable condition in my mind. Am I crazy? No, I think not. But I hurt a lot. So very much still. And I don't think people around me realize the severity of her being around me. It used to not be like this. But the lies that were spun and circulated...puts fire on the wound.
So baking bread and indulging in brownies...not the best for my body and the ideal weight I'm shooting for. But the smell of baking bread and brownies conjure up better memories. The taste of moist fudge and wheat with honey or jelly soothe and eleviate the bad taste I've had in my mouth all day. And venting as usual here in my web journal. I'll be okay. I'm sure of it. But I'm on my knees tonight, praying in my weakness, knowing the light is near. All I have to do is endure. And I know I can endure. I've made it this far and life is easy. Others have it much worse and are dying. I am blessed to be alive. I am blessed to be learning about life. Life is an adventure. Unwritten as we go along, improvising and surviving.
That is all.
Lightning and Thunder
With the lightning flashing across the night sky and the thunder roaring overhead, I opened my door, stepped outside into the rain, and spread my arms high above my head and closed my eyes. My heart raced, my pulse quickened, and my breathing grew shallow for a bit; it felt like I was spinning and I was ready to puke, but I stood with my arms wide open and embraced this fear that I've had since I was a very young girl. Giant raindrops pounded my face as the humid wind swept through my hair. It seemed as though my heart was indecisive as to whether it should just stop completely or keep pumping ferociously. I could feel my breathing get out of control. Long. Short. Gasping, wheezing. I swallowed a mouthful of air and saturated my lungs with an over abundance of oxygen and felt a bursting in my ears. The hiccups came immediately and I felt I could taste bile at the back of my throat. The fear and anxiety began trickling through my mind, stretching to my limbs, my guts, and racing through my nerves. Electrical shocks prickling down the back of my neck. But I stood. I stood there in the rain, in the lightning, in the thunder, getting wet until my heart slowed a bit, my pulse grew even and my eyes opened. The sweat on my forehead lingered with the rain and I looked into the dark, overcast sky and said a prayer. And even after the prayer and the quiet moments between thunderous rumbles, the fear tried to cling, to break through the calm. I pushed against the fear, filling my mind with light thoughts. I am here. I am still standing. Nothing will happen to me. I peered again out into the darkness, anticipating the next bout of thunder and searching the horizon for the flash of lightning. That deceiving, strobing light that can snap an oak tree in two halves with one lick of its illuminating, searing fingers. And the thunder came. And the lightning came. And still I stood. Safe, unharmed.
Picking up the pieces of a broken heart is never easy. Facing the void has been rough. But somehow, through constant prayer, I am surviving. And the credit goes to God. Because I swear, I am truly a weak person. Most days I would just like to stare blankly across the horizon and get lost in my thoughts. Most days I want to just sit and never move or lift a finger. For a while I didn't want to eat or sleep or drink. For a while I wanted to be numb, to run away from the hurt and rejection and disappear into the bleak, unforgiving darkness that threatens to consume my mind. But I have to face the void and attack my fears. I NEED to. I cannot fail. I cannot fail me. I cannot fail my son. I cannot fail my family. I am a survivor. I find my way through sticky situations. I, the oldest of five kids, who went to school in a foreign country by myself with limited knowledge of the language and not one single friend to talk with on that first day of school. Not one person to share lunch with. Not one person who could understand me. I will overcome. I will persevere.
Ramble Ramble Ramble
I dislike the Saturdays that I have to go into work. It's such a pointless day. Although today, the numbers were so much better for a Saturday. Usually they're crap. Which is what makes it slightly worthless to sit in the office to babysit people, basically. This week was a strenuous week with a lot of frustrations and disappointments. Got the second rejection from the second publisher. So I'm wondering if I really should seriously go back to school and take some courses to see if that'll improve whatever it is that is hindering my getting published. Although one publisher politely suggested that I consider writing a piece geared towards today's popular genre...the whole new genre of VAMPIRE lore.... which have become so abundant..I'm sick of 'em. Charlaine Harris and Stephanie Moyer were all I could handle. Oh and the Black Dagger Brotherhood; I can't remember the author.
I don't know what is I really want to write about. I have so far five chapters of one bit I'm working on...but I'm not really sure where it's going or where it's taking me. I just type late at night, letting the creative part of my brain just shoot away. All through the night, you'll hear the keys clicking softly away, and I'll feel myself diving deeper and deeper, my mind spinning into the scenes....the layers of the story. And I find myself on most occasions, waking up not really remembering what I've written. But feeling drained mind and soul. And feeling as though there's a glow about me...kind of like the gleam of sweat after a long, steady but taxing run. My mind, these days, is always spinning with thoughts. Every kind of thought. From worrying about meeting the bills for the month and wondering when I will get out of this paycheck to paycheck rut. To how well my son is really doing in daycare, and how he is developing mentally, physically, and spiritually. And added to that, is my worry about this crazy doctor wanting to put me through a battery of tests to figure out if I really just have APS-antiphospholipid syndrome, or if it's something more serious like LUPUS. All these worries stack and stack and stack.
But I'm doing well. I'm surviving, and surviving is all I can do in my situation. In my position. I dunno. I'm rambling. I had an encounter on the phone with a new patient. A patient I know personally. Too personally. A person that can bring up a slew of memories and emotions I don't care to deal with right now. So I think that's effecting my mood now...this brooding mode I seem to be in. Of all dental offices there are in San Antonio, she had to pick my office. She had to call and say her name. And I played it off well enough, but it picked at me the rest of the day. Here she is again in my life all of a sudden. And I'm not sure how I should feel or react. So I'm going to hide and not confront the situation. Running....
Very Small Excerpt...
On the edge of darkness and ruin. The mind on the brink of oblivion, wasting away on regrets of the past. There is a void. It fills and empties. Satisfies and disappoints. And though a smile breaks up the sullen face, in the eyes there is a cloud. Gray and wasted. Exhausted and tired. Grief prevails. Hopelessness triumphs. If not for the little corners of sunshine, all would be obscure, gloomy, devoid of happiness. Hope stands at the point of a sword, a sword ready to strike and kill. She lifts her arms to the heavens, a pleading in her bosom. Grasping for relief. For understanding. To belong. To be wanted and cared for. On her knees, imploring for a glimmer of peace. She gazes up past her fingertips to the stars, seeking a sign, waiting for a confirmation. For that still small voice to whisper assurances, to guide, to lead to a better, more empathetic place. A place she knew in her soul to be home.
“A piece of Heaven on Earth, if you please! Whoever you are! Wherever you are! Whatever your schemes for my life! Just a smidgen of worry free moments!”
Tears streamed as she choked on her breathe, and coughed up her sorrows. She withdrew her arms, folded them neatly in her lap and bowed her head, closing her eyes, warm, salty tears still rolling down her cheeks, smearing her face with her mascara. Still praying. Still pleading in her heart. Still on her knees as her breathe quickened and her heart beat riotously.
“Will you not erase this hurt from my heart, and deaden my senses but for a day! What sin doth thou punish me for? What wrong requires a consequence so strenuous to the heart and soul! Lord, help me! Lord, ease my heart? Take this hurt. I’ve known it too well these past months. I do not wish to know it further!” she pounds her chest and while still kneeling, lays her forehead to the ground, a sob escaping her throat.
Her breathing eases. Her tears dry. Her heart slows, becomes steady. Everything returns as it was as her body remained sprawled on the floor. Even the void quietly settles in a far, far corner in her soul. Calm embraces her though a few tears still struggle to escape the corners of her blood shot eyes. She lays there with her knees and face planted in the yucky beige carpet and just breathes. In. Out. In and out. Deeper. Longer. And deeper until the air becomes different around her. More relaxed. The light around her is brighter but softer. Her limbs aren’t as heavy and her shoulders become lax. And soon, she falls asleep, lying there, lips parted and eyes rolling in slumber.
***************
Chapter One
With one babe baking in the oven, two little toddler boys under three, and a five year old girl trailing her every move, Sue Lynn felt slightly overwhelmed and bewildered. But no one on the outside of her skin and mind would guess that. Her composure and firm smile told a different story. One luggage bag for all three of them. Packed her life and her three young kids’ belongings in one bag, making the long trek across the Pacific to be here in the United States of America, where her children could dream big and work for more than dirt. She hoisted the younger boy up higher on her hip, took a deep breath, and walked through the airport in silence. Her children echoed her silence, each deep in their own little thoughts, encompassing all that surrounded them. Gazing at the different array of people. Tall and short. Round, rotund and skinny poles. White and black. Asian and Indian. The black and white children took on more interest to them than the brown ones. Brown children they’d seen. White children they knew of but black children. They couldn’t help but to stare. Sue Lynn put a stop to that with one firm word and one firm look. They were obedient and revered their mother. They could feel her vibes and today would not be a day to mess with her or act foolish.
They finally reached the door leading out and stopped, Sue Lynn’s gaze sweeping the area, searching. Her heart skipped a little beat, thinking he might not be here. A silly notion but it’d been so long. Would he recognize her. And there he was. Short, lanky fellow, walking towards her and the children. Wide jaw, straight square teeth smiling at them. Their pace quickened and soon all five were embracing, hugging, and kissing. All speaking at once.
“A piece of Heaven on Earth, if you please! Whoever you are! Wherever you are! Whatever your schemes for my life! Just a smidgen of worry free moments!”
Tears streamed as she choked on her breathe, and coughed up her sorrows. She withdrew her arms, folded them neatly in her lap and bowed her head, closing her eyes, warm, salty tears still rolling down her cheeks, smearing her face with her mascara. Still praying. Still pleading in her heart. Still on her knees as her breathe quickened and her heart beat riotously.
“Will you not erase this hurt from my heart, and deaden my senses but for a day! What sin doth thou punish me for? What wrong requires a consequence so strenuous to the heart and soul! Lord, help me! Lord, ease my heart? Take this hurt. I’ve known it too well these past months. I do not wish to know it further!” she pounds her chest and while still kneeling, lays her forehead to the ground, a sob escaping her throat.
Her breathing eases. Her tears dry. Her heart slows, becomes steady. Everything returns as it was as her body remained sprawled on the floor. Even the void quietly settles in a far, far corner in her soul. Calm embraces her though a few tears still struggle to escape the corners of her blood shot eyes. She lays there with her knees and face planted in the yucky beige carpet and just breathes. In. Out. In and out. Deeper. Longer. And deeper until the air becomes different around her. More relaxed. The light around her is brighter but softer. Her limbs aren’t as heavy and her shoulders become lax. And soon, she falls asleep, lying there, lips parted and eyes rolling in slumber.
***************
Chapter One
With one babe baking in the oven, two little toddler boys under three, and a five year old girl trailing her every move, Sue Lynn felt slightly overwhelmed and bewildered. But no one on the outside of her skin and mind would guess that. Her composure and firm smile told a different story. One luggage bag for all three of them. Packed her life and her three young kids’ belongings in one bag, making the long trek across the Pacific to be here in the United States of America, where her children could dream big and work for more than dirt. She hoisted the younger boy up higher on her hip, took a deep breath, and walked through the airport in silence. Her children echoed her silence, each deep in their own little thoughts, encompassing all that surrounded them. Gazing at the different array of people. Tall and short. Round, rotund and skinny poles. White and black. Asian and Indian. The black and white children took on more interest to them than the brown ones. Brown children they’d seen. White children they knew of but black children. They couldn’t help but to stare. Sue Lynn put a stop to that with one firm word and one firm look. They were obedient and revered their mother. They could feel her vibes and today would not be a day to mess with her or act foolish.
They finally reached the door leading out and stopped, Sue Lynn’s gaze sweeping the area, searching. Her heart skipped a little beat, thinking he might not be here. A silly notion but it’d been so long. Would he recognize her. And there he was. Short, lanky fellow, walking towards her and the children. Wide jaw, straight square teeth smiling at them. Their pace quickened and soon all five were embracing, hugging, and kissing. All speaking at once.
HAPPY
These days are happy days. Warm, sunny, breezy days. The gorgeous spring days after a long, arduous winter that seemed to stretch beyond the horizon and off into the deep end as if it would never come to a stop. The scents of spring. Airy, wispy with a little leftover crispness from the frigid winter of yesterday. But I can feel the blooming in my soul. I feel like I'm floating, flying. I think this is the true cloud nine. And cloud nine seems to be more than one cloud. It's like several puffy, almost billowing clouds wrapped around me, enveloping me in softness and enlightenment. Colors seem brighter. Smells are layered. Everything has a freshness. And it all feels fabulous, uplifting, and so damn good. And all because I feel better about me. I am more sure of myself and my potential. I started writing my stories again and although, I'm not published yet, I'm making strides to expose my work. And even if I don't get recognized, I'm hoping I'll be like an Emily Bronte type where my work will become invaluable and legendary after I've passed on to the next life. Where my posterity would prosper from my creativity.
Isaac amazes me. He's talking more. He's doing things on his own. He's potty trained and he even recognizes his letters. He has a love for Thomas the tank engine and all his other friends. He is stubborn but loving. He makes me laugh. He makes me cry. He honors me with his smiles and giggles. He drives me crazy with his crazy antics, like drawing on the walls or clogging the toilet with all six rolls of toilet paper...yeah no more unsupervised potty visits. He pinches, pulls, and kicks Juji, but they sleep together and eat together and he hates it when I yell at Juji. He yells at me and tells me I'm mean when I scold Juji. He is not a morning kid, either. He loves to wrestle and punch and ninja kick. He still loves cucumbers, and loves the outdoors more than the indoors. He can be social but I see that he also likes to have time on his own.
Isaac amazes me. He's talking more. He's doing things on his own. He's potty trained and he even recognizes his letters. He has a love for Thomas the tank engine and all his other friends. He is stubborn but loving. He makes me laugh. He makes me cry. He honors me with his smiles and giggles. He drives me crazy with his crazy antics, like drawing on the walls or clogging the toilet with all six rolls of toilet paper...yeah no more unsupervised potty visits. He pinches, pulls, and kicks Juji, but they sleep together and eat together and he hates it when I yell at Juji. He yells at me and tells me I'm mean when I scold Juji. He is not a morning kid, either. He loves to wrestle and punch and ninja kick. He still loves cucumbers, and loves the outdoors more than the indoors. He can be social but I see that he also likes to have time on his own.
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