strip me.

Everyday I fight for
All my future somethings
A thousand little wars
I have to choose between
I could spend a lifetime
Earning things that I don't need
But that's like chasing rainbows
And coming home empty




I'm changing.  Everyday I feel this shift in myself that seems like puzzle pieces moving about to find their place in the new landscape of the person I am becoming. There are a few things that I can pin point that I know changed the person that I could have become.


Constant Vigilance, I have learned so much from the Harry Potter series and the biggest lesson has to that of keeping your eyes open and to always proceed with caution, but not to the point it cripples you. Constant vigilance is simply understanding that its always important to take a second and closer look, to know that not everything is as it seems, and that not everything is going to be the way we imagined it was. Its understanding that rush judgement can and will forsake us.  I know that every single Harry Potter fan has their story, of why this series means so much to them, and my story is at one point in my childhood, Harry Potter was my imaginary friend who was there when no one else was, who was there when I was trying to fit in and the new world that I suddenly had to call home. It made me realize that it was okay to be different, that our differences actually enrich our interactions and make the world an interesting place to be. This is what I will always carry with me, that my experiences, my friends and my choices are making me into the the person that I am and will become with more living. 

the twenty something plight

the hardest thing for twenty somethings, well for me at least is that its harder to make make real friends now that it was back then. It's not so much as making friends than it is the wanting the have the friends you have in the same vicinity has you, but that gets harder and harder as people move away and move on. So you fall into a routine because you have suddenly found yourself in a 9 to 5 which when you were younger you swore you wanted because it would fix all those life ending situations only a teenager can have, but no amount of Dolly Parton singing will turn back time, but this is what you wanted right? right? After work, are exhausted and you just want to sleep. and you repeat process. 

Sometimes I just want to scream that I want my friends back, my old life back, or something which I don't really know because another thing I can't seem to be able to so is made a life decision. figures. 

dream big or go home

At the last minute, I have decided that I am going to participate in this year's National Novel Writing Month, in which I have to write 50, 000 words of a novel or have a completed novel by then.  It was an impulse decision, which seems to be how I do this anyways and it feels right that I at least attempt it. I feel like in my Master's degree so far I have written more than than so I should be able to write 50,000 words of whatever I want and hopefully without using the words International Relations  for once.  At this moment I got nothing. No plot, no characters, I don't even have a clue as to what kind of novel I am going to attempt to write. While I know it won't be science fiction, a mystery or suspense, I got noting. When I first decided I joked about my name coming after #1 New York Bestselling author, dream big or go home I say. I am interested in were this ridiculous attempt/adventure will take me, I am prepared to fail completely and utterly but I am hoping that this will become something I can be proud of myself for. It will certainly give me something to do and occupy my time and allow myself to see what I am capable of. This is also crazy because I have my school work to contend with so basically I am insane.

I currently have less than 500 words of what I don't know so luckly its no plot no problem, otherwise I would be in big trouble. There a NaNoWriMo kick off thing happening tonight so I am thinking about heading over there maybe I will be shamed into actually coming up with some that can possibly reach 50000 words by the end of November. I have a feeling that for me November will be learning month,  more so than usual, but as they say , everyday is a school day.

#60 flexing the creative muscles.

I write occasionally. Sometimes I am really proud of what I accomplish, others I am glad I am the only person that has seen the nonsense that finds itself on a page without my knowledge. Part of the 101 challenge is to write a poem a month, now whether the poem will be good; well that's up to opinion and I always take those with a grain of salt or simply ignore them if I so choose. I do welcome constructive criticism- this means you have something to add thats relevent and will help instead of just saying I don't like it. So for the first in a series of 33, wow maybe I can publish a book after this ha. I present a little poem, thats been edited so many times I barely recognize ( apparently a writer never truly finished the editing process)  but I somehow like it. 

Heirloom 

a moment in time given

to the pain that coils about my body

like the comfort that made me cry

when you touched me like a family heirloom

Passed down

Precious and priceless

used and useless

I felt like I was

anywhere but my own skin.

the laugh lines around my eyes

become the only souvenirs of 

our time together. 

I find myself grasping for memories 

 that were once as vivid 

as this moment. 

your scent clings to me

becoming the essence of

another version of myself

altered by moments infused by your laughter

deceived by words that wrapped around me

comfortable, toxic

I don't know why I wrote it, but its out there now. 

memories as character builders

Remembering

I was in a convenience

store  on the way home and

in my hand appeared a grocery

list of my broken dreams.

I walked further into the

store,  “ Clean up on aisle three”

said the voice overhead in

reference to that smoldering  

summer I watched the

trees with falling

leaves made up of moments

that used to be as familiar as my

morning routine. One by one

they  fell to the ground

as the moment passed and became

past .

The gentle breeze caressed my face

and brought with it a scent that clung to my

clothes and transported me to that night

 we spent hours learning about each other

learning about ourselves.

We  looked up and the sky

had already danced with the moon

and dawn was taking its turn

for  only for a few moments

as the sky was saving its last

dance for the sun.

Did you know that the sidewalk

is concrete blocks of feelings

forever cemented and watermarked

on all the versions and definitions

of who I am and  who I will become.

I walked, losing and finding

 myself all at once. Remembering.

Reverence

The moment I learned to love,  

You tacked my beating heart on your wall.

From time to time you would 

wipe the pool of dripping blood

 never pausing to consider why its bleeding 

You’re used to the beating echos;

background music to your mundane 

routine, an everyday reminder of your worth. 

You are so carefree, never a thought to the day I would 

stop beating, its suffocating  loneliness,

I’ve been so thoughtless

I filled the open wound in my chest

with memories of our time on the last 

day of our world. Reverence was spelled out 

with each  stroke of your rough hands on my anticipating skin. 

Together, tangled, twittering in the overarching moment 

between, "I  belong with you, we were meant to be" and 

"I know your heartbeat, it’s not in tune with mine.

I'm Sorry

Other rough hands have made that faithful journey 

along my skin, teachers on  how to spell comfort, 

passion, regret, never reverence, never lasting, 

never forever.

Memories are tricky things. On a good day I can barely remember where I put my phone, keys and sometimes my sanity. I wrote these poems a long time ago and I forgot for while that I had written them because its not what I do. . The funny thing is I remember the exact feeling and moment in which I wrote these. They were stories that had to be told and I couldn't keep in. So I took pen to paper and when I looked down this was what was left. I am very proud of them. They were written months apart but the share the memories thing I didn't notice until writing this.  I am fascinated by memories, they are important to me in some way that I can't explain but I guess that's part of the journey.