woe is me-ish

I’m waiting for my client to get back with me about whether the house I’m supposed to describe is a duplex or not – so I’m typing here in the meantime.

I haven’t posted any prose in a while – not because I don’t have thoughts or anything I want to say. And not because I’m clogging up my Facebook page with those words. I finally decided to try out Instagram a few years ago and I mostly post pictures of my cat Blu. I don’t know when or if I will ever dip my toes into Twitter or TikTok. I don’t think it’s an age thing (I’m almost 43)…maybe it’s a writer nerd/grammar Nazi thing?

I barely remember to post here anymore. It’s terrible. I’m a writer who barely writes. I was introduced to Stardew Valley last year by my now husband and I am hooked. We have started 4 different co-op games and played hard until we completed all there was to complete in less than 3 years (game time). He gets bored in games with no immediate tasks, so we would take a break and then start another game.

Now I’m doing a solo game and it’s taking up a lot of my time. And life is also taking up a lot of time. I feel like a brat complaining about not having any alone time anymore because most people/couples my age haven’t had much alone time for at least a decade or more (yay kids). I don’t have kids, but I do have two dogs and my elderly mother-in-law who lives with us and requires a fair amount of attention.

So, writing has suffered. I got lazy. I have an MFA in creative writing and the extent of my creativity anymore is how to describe stone counters with the right balance of adjectives and “feeling”.

I still write poetry sometimes though. I still find myself in awe of lovely writing. And I still imagine how the worlds of character continue after I step away from the book or movie. So I’m not totally jaded.

And back to my farm – I have multiple spreadsheets set up to chart my progress with the different quests/tasks/etc. It’s a little ridiculous. I still haven’t chosen a spouse, but I have to do that to get the kids. Boo.

#resolvethis

I’ve never been much for “new year’s resolutions” – I think I tried to make them at one point, but never stuck to it beyond making the list.

Having worked and studied as a writer, I have a new affinity and appreciation for words than I did 20 years ago. The idea of “resolution” carries a different distinction nowadays. Given that it’s the first day of a new year, it’s understandable that I would be thinking about resolutions.

What’s the big deal with resolutions anyway? I know it’s a thing and all, but do we really understand it? Do we even understand the word?

“Resolution” is a noun; The verb form would be “resolve.” Synonyms for resolution include: decision, settlement, verdict, conclusion, proposal.

These are not “light” words; they are not meant to be used as fluff or filler. Think about it – decision, settlement, verdict: what do you think of when you hear these words? Courts and judgments and finality spring to mind, right?

What have we done to the idea of new year’s resolutions to make it more of a joke than a life-changing move?

So, here we are, at the beginning of another year – 364 more days to change. Maybe this will be the year that we resolve, we propose, we conclude, we decide to __________________________.

Amazing Quotes

These are some of my favorite quotes – a few that stay with me every time I sit down to write, to think about writing, or even just to think. Or even when I am going about my day and thinking about my book. These are words that have made me gasp in delight – so excited at their truth that I want to call everyone in my phone and read it to them.

(1) David Jacobsen

“I believe that every time I put a word down with the intention of making something to last, whether a story or novel or essay, I am inside a moment in which I better be attempting to wrestle with a matter of life and death.”

“I believe even the sheer act of writing is a matter of life and death, that if I am not here in my place and writing, that I am not seeking with the means I have been given – an ability with the written word – to find meaning that will matter.”

“…where I am sitting when I write is the sacred beginning of any attempt to make concrete via words those matters of life and death the worlds inside my own books seek to explore.”

“…I want to remember why I am here, and why this whole writing thing deserves my deepest attention, and my innermost focus.”

“Words and what they can do are important, because in the beginning was the Word.”

#weareallhypos

There is no end to the hypocrisy of the human heart.

That’s all for now.

(Mic drop?)

#itsallcomingbacktomenow

Remember way back when,

when it was easy to write and create 

and let stuff flow. 

And then, 

I got distracted by living outside 

of words. 

I left my comfort zone for 

flesh 

and 

blood. 

Also, I found love. 

Still got it – 

kind of a record. 

Who knew brown eyes and lots of Cribbage 

could make me forget about 

my other love? 

I found someone who 

got my brain. 

And He he listened about “thou” – 

big deal. 

But I’m inching back 

to words, 

to my pen, 

to the thing I loved 

before I loved 

those big brown eyes. 

 

Exam Room 24

It’s been a while, but I’m still here. For your reading pleasure – my try at flash fiction:

 

Exam Room 24

“I don’t like how men smell. Or really, I don’t how it smells. And how I smell after.”
The nurse looked up from her clipboard, but didn’t say anything. The young woman in the hospital gown continued speaking, either forgetting that she wasn’t alone or not caring.
“They’re always so shocked when I say anything – like they don’t think they smell bad. Like they think it would smell good. And it doesn’t go away quick either. Not even after a shower.”
“What is your name?”
The young woman didn’t make eye contact. “Emily.”
“And your last name?”
“Bronte.”
The nurse sighed quietly. “I’m going to need your real name.”
The young woman frowned. “They said it was okay to use fake names though.”
“That was the counseling hotline. This is different…we’ll need your actual name.”
“Can’t I just be her for a little bit? Just a little?”
The nurse stretched a smile on her face. “Sure, Emily – for a little bit. But eventually….”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“You mean did he force me? Don’t they all in some way though? Force it? The others were nicer about it, made it seem like I wanted to…made it seem like my idea sometimes. And most times, I probably mostly did want to. But it was always their idea before mine. And I always knew that, but I went along anyway. I’d pretend that I was all for it, and they’d pretend to call again.”
“But this time?”
Emily glanced down at her fingers. “I broke a nail, I think. Doesn’t matter, I guess, since the paint’s chipped on all of them.”
“Emily?”
“Yeah, this time he was just more upfront about it. I said no. Or, I think I did. I wanted to. I tried to pull away. He hurt, in general, you know? It was rough and he didn’t care.”
The nurse stopped writing. “I’m sorry, Emily. I’m sorry for him. For all of them, but definitely for him.”
Emily shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to talk about it again, huh?”
“A detective’s waiting to take your statement.”
“About time to stop being Emily.”
The nurse smiled gently. “Maybe after the examination. That okay?”
“Sure. That way someone else is being poked and scraped.”
“I’ll be gentle. Promise. Now, lie back please and we’ll get this done as quickly as possible.”
Emily’s chestnut hair fell over the back of the examination table. “I hate how they smell.”

Mostly a Free Write

Disclaimer: “mostly free write” means that I corrected typing/grammatical/spelling errors

I think things are changing and I’m not quite ready. But who ever is? Who sees change charging down the path like a Clydesdale on steroids and says “hooray – I was hoping this would happen”?

But I also want the change. I used to joke that my Native blood kept me restless – since my people (Pawnee) were nomadic, then it was in my nature to be also. Kind of like my fascination with buffalo. I think they are beautiful and majestic and unique. I can see a picture of painting of a buffalo from across a room and I will make a beeline for it. Maybe I just like bison, but I also like to think it’s something in me…my Native-ness that pulls me to these animals.

So I want the change, but not quickly and all at once and right away. I want a few more days in my comfort zone. I thought I had shaken its bonds loose a week ago, but I can feel myself being drawn back.

My zone has a person. It’s a he. We’re not “together” now. Used to be, and it was wonderful and painful and weird (good way) and stressful. Now we’re just friends, but he calls us peas in a nutshell (since peas share the pod with other peas and we are unique to each other). I want away. I want to stay. (I greatly dislike rhyming). I want to not feel like I am going to miss him when he goes home after a night of chili and Clue.

I think change is coming mostly because I feel the space between us. It’s kind of exciting, but I also cringe to think of being somewhere where he isn’t.

Done for now.

mea culpa

I’ve been terrible with not posting. I miss this space and how I can dump anything here and not be (openly) judged. I appreciate that you are out there and reading my rants and actually liking some of them. Thank you. I’ll be better with this.

Longing

Remember when life was simple

and all we did was enjoy our freedom,

churning our muscles

and begging the wind to give chase.

You were so beautiful in your fury and glory,

matted sweat and thick blood

from centuries of warriors crowding

to give life to your heart.

Too much time away from

dirt and clay beneath your feet

has tamed you.

Forget your civilized self

and let the stars lead you home.

cake wars

Ever have to choose

between two of your favorite desserts?

They’re almost the same thing –

cake pops and store bought birthday cake.

Both make you feel so great

when you have them.

You want both, crave both.

They’re almost the same,

but the cake pops make you bare your soul,

know your heart,

and can sense the slightest change

in your voice.

The other one has potential and is nice.

So nice.

But it doesn’t know your soul

like the cake pops do.

But it also hasn’t broken your heart

and put you through

months of emotional turmoil.

The birthday cake is just really nice,

and really stable.

But it doesn’t sing your tune and know your heart.

But it could, if you gave it a chance.

Everyone likes birthday cake,

especially you.

But you love cake pops.

And you can only have one dessert.

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