Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Chapter 37: A Side Note

I just wrote this letter to (my friend?) Aaron (yes, you remember him from a previous chapter) and I wanted to share it as it (vaguely) shows what I've been feeling the past week. It also touches on themes I've written about before: alone, everyone else's muse, parents, etc...So enjoy my long rant to a boy who didn't know what he was getting himself into when he volunteered himself as one of my vent dummies!

 Le mini rant ^_^
So last night was ok. We had about ten people in the audience because that place does not know how to market itself. But dancing was fun and I ignored the people for my newest solo (since my sword broke, I had to make a new routine...) and just listened to the music. It's a veil routine so it's really flowing and I hope to make it pretty cause the music is super feminine and really beautiful. But enough of that.
The other night was hard on my emotions cause we've been robbed before. Back in 2008, we visited my grandma in Wichita, which is 3 hours from our house in Kansas City. When we got home, the door to our house had been broken down, the alarm was going off and a lot of stuff was taken. Among the thousands of dollars of things taken was the one thing I swore I could not stand to lose: my laptop. I know it sounds trivial, but everything I had written since I was eleven was on there. I had two massive, finished novels on it as well as years worth of poetry and journals. My writing was everything to me and now everything I had ever said was gone. Along with that, my bed room had been ransacked, my clothes dumped out of my dresser, everything pulled out of my nightstand. I didn't even want to sleep in my room that night. 
So yesterday at one in the morning, someone did the same thing to my car. Everything had been gone through, CDs a close friend back in KC had given me were gone. Nothing vital was missing, but seeing another personal space violated brought back the feelings and memories and I couldn't sleep. I watched out my window until 5am to make sure no one came towards the house again. I know it was a silly thing to do, but I couldn't help it. Then yesterday on top of all that was a $900 engine bill for my car and the threat of 4 grand in tuition due next month. 
To throw something a little extra into the mix (some people don't ever believe me when I say this) but I have had been having spiritual feelings lately. Ever since I was eleven, I've been able to feel a spiritual movement. Whether it is something bad about to happen or something really amazing. This thing has played a large in my personal life since then. I can sense when something drastic will happen. I can do it for other people too and have on many occasions for my best friend El. So for a bit more than a week now, the feeling has been growing and the night of the car incident, I wrote in my journal about how the first phase of whatever I was feeling was about to take place. Two hours later, the car happens and all these old feelings and memories come up.
So I know now that whatever is going to happen has started happening. It's nothing globally dramatic or anything, just something to do with my life right now and my life (another long story) has had a tendency to effect others close to me in big ways. 
So all of this was just really boiling down on my yesterday. It's still there, but I need to get on with life. Too many times I've wished for a pause button so I can gather my thoughts, but who hasn't? And the best part, for me, is realizing that what I'm going through and have been going through is nothing compared to other people. Nothing at all. So I take a moment to be brought down by my trials, weep my bitter tears, scream my curses, but then I pick myself up again, put my traveling shoes on and continue down my path. But the moments of dark fear and anger are just as important. If I don't have them, then I'd poison myself. Already I release my venom on the world too often. All I can do is try. It's tragic in so many ways cause no one sees. My parents have no clue. They honestly don't know anything about me except that I get home late and belly dance and am a bit messy when I'm too busy to clean my room. I can forgive them when they scream at me, call me lazy and stupid cause I know otherwise. It's the things I know that no one else does that let me continue to live. It hurts that no one "sees" me (ever seen Avatar?). But I know and I know I am an instrument in God's much greater plan and that has to be compensation enough for me.
I'm about to get very poetic and dark and moany so I'll stop now before I have you thinking any more what a whiner I am ^_^ I do whine.  A lot. But thanks for letting me rant even if you never read all this. It was good to write a bit of it out and know that someone else could read it. 
Any way, there I go again! Thanks for the listen (er, read). 

Thank you and have a great Christmas if I don't see you before then!

Monday, December 12, 2011

Chapter 36: Finer Things in Life

This post is really just going to be me babbling along as I have time to post on my blog right now. Later to day, I have to teach my Korean students and I really should be studying for my Geology final, but I'd rather write. The other day I opened my book one file to my Legends Trilogy (which my be renamed) and read several pages. My writing was actually decent a couple years ago. One thing I edited while reading the first eight or so pages was adding in artistic finery. I told a good story, my characters are cute and likable, the opening was strong...everything was okay, except there was no art to it! No fancy words, no dark meanings, no poetic etiquette in the descriptions at all. C'mon, Abigail, it's a vampire fairy tale! I'm not saying I want to break my One and Only Rule of Writing, but it did need some pzazz.
I know I never look it, but I've always wanted to be more elegant and fabulously adorned. I probably mentioned something about this while I was reading through Mrs. Venture's book (which is amazing and if you know a goth or are one you NEED to read it!) and now I am saying it again. I want to be a lady for crying out loud! I love my rocker look but I can hardly rock that on a time crunch. So I need to save up and buy only rocker and elegant clothes. How shallow do I sound right now? Hahah, I'm just tiered of everything I am and doing being so intermediate and base level. These feelings have to do with me being the muse. Something I know I've ranted about before. Nothing is for me. I inspire others and get left behind. But that's what I want to change.
Another finer thing in life is how I need some spiritual growth. I am so stunted but still growing older. I sent in an application my new churches "Home Team" organizer and they are supposed to help me find a social group suited for me in the church that meets in my area. I decided to be sneaky and enroll in a "singles" team. Maybe God will get a nudge.
That's another finer thing. I have been more sappy and romantic recently than I have been in quite some time. I won't elaborate on these gushy, heart-filled, pink day dreams, but here they are. I have been burning with a desire recently. It gets very distracting sometimes. But at least it has me coming back to where I need to be. Whenever these romantic thoughts and passions erupt in me, I turn back to my spirituality. Which is a good things. I need to grow in that department. But here I am, longing for a man. A very specific kind too. Aww, how I wish....ANY WAY.
School is almost over for this semester and the next draws so close too fast. I get a month off and I hope in that time to save money, dance, get good tips and write. I cannot wait for this next semester as half my classes will be literature and creative writing. I am so excited! Writing stories and poems for school again! I'm not going to recycle any of my old work from my first Creative Writing class for this one. I want all new stuff to show. I am new and I will show it! I hope. I just hope I can save up. Speaking of which..I have some online scholarships I need to apply for...deadlines are soon and I would really like that money. Just a couple hundred dollars would really help. I'll do my best.
Alright, that's enough for now. I will probably write more useless and boring blog entries as I will (hopefully) have more time now that school is out. I will also be working more. Ugh....
Fair well and don't forget to focus on the fineries and elegance of life!

I applied for 3 scholarships! One of those being the L. Ron Hubbard's Writers of the Future scholarship. I hope I win. One was a random drawing of $2000, another was a 250 word essay competition and the last was the WOTF competition. I submitted my story "Snow Angels" for it. I hope I win. I could really use that money.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Chapter 35: Why Are You Upset?

I always knew I wasn't the smartest person in the world. I know I struggled with quite a few subjects--mainly mathematics. But I try hard. Really hard. I was on the honor roll with a 3.5 and higher for 3 years in college. I admit, I'm not doing that well here in Texas (we've had this discussion before) but don't say things like "So you're stupid" to my face. Especially since you don't know.
I was at work (I'm not allowed to say where) doing my duty when a coworker came up to me and said, "You have a double chin. You're fat. Haha, just kidding. But no, you do." Need I say WTF? Just so you know, I'm not over weight. I'm not slim or muscular, but I'm not chunky either. Heck, I'm a belly dancer. I got angry, ignored him and went about my chores. An hour or less later, my other coworker began to work next to me and we start talking. We discussed school and I confessed that I don't test well on certain subjects. I went on to explain that I understand one class but my tests aren't that good. I sighed and said, "It's just not a subject I can test well in, but I get it." He smirked and said, "I hate it when people say they don't test well. Just means you don't know the material." I tried to explain that that may not be the case for every one. You can understand something without knowing every minute detail. But be he laughed again and said, "So you're just stupid."
It wasn't a question.
I stared back, my eyes not wide betraying my shock at his rudeness. I don't know what it is about being called stupid (perhaps how I was treated my whole life?), but I cannot stand it. Not in the least.
Somehow, I mustered the strength, smiled and said, "Yeah, something like that."
I cried the whole drive home from work. That stung really badly. I hate him now and that didn't change today either.
I was working with him again. In my head I had forgiven him and we were chatting again. I'm too nice. I'm a very kind and forgiving person. Not any more. I thought maybe he wouldn't do anything so stupid again. But no. We're talking about paranoia and I said something about being paranoid. Obviously, not forgetting what he said the other night he says, "Nah, you're not. Paranoid people are people who know all the facts. So that rules you out," he sayed pointedly, looking right into my eyes.
I wanted to take the pen in my hand and plunge it in his face. He did it again.
Fine, you want a confession? You want to know how stupid I am? I'm so stupid that I worked as a college writing tutor for two+ years. So stupid that I had an essay and a poem published in college magazines. So stupid that I teach Korean children English. So stupid that I maintained a higher GPA than he has probably ever had. So stupid that I learned to play almost 5 instruments and write music. how stupid I am, mister.
I'm sorry to be so vindictive, but I am finished with being forgiving and  kind. I was the sweet little goth girl at my job and I'm done with that. I am not speaking to him any more no matter how miserable I will be at work now. I'm used to work sucking.
But I will not let this infect my relationships with the others or who I am. Who am I right now? I am a woman who is happy with her looks, her hard life and the magical times I create just to get buy. I am God's personal dancer, worshiper, goth girl and servant. I am a child of the earth and seeker of all things beautiful. I am who I am. And to this jerk...I am his worst nightmare.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Chapter 34: Danse Magique, danse!

Getting through is tough, but afterwards you feel great for a bit. I watched "Your Highness" with my sister on Halloween night to try and save myself. Worked, hu? But this is all behind me and I don't want to talk about it any more...

Started reading "The Chronicles of Vladimir Tod" and I love it. Is it literary genius? No. Is it a good story with lovable characters? Yup!
Got a B on my most recent Psychology test. I was a 4.0 back in KC, but that's been slipping ever since moving to Texas. My theories are ringing true. Help, my IQ is dropping! The sad part is that that B was a step up. I'm not going to talk about my other grades any more though, it's too depressing. But because I did ok on my recent tests, I bough myself a Moorish scimitar to dance my solo with. It's a long way away, but will be here soon! I'm very excited to have it. Also, I got a lot of Rachel Brice DVDs to practice with when I have time (hahaha...) since I can't make it to class recently. Their really good in the yoga sections, which no other belly dancer seems to think is important to the dance. Duh...
Tokio Hotel won the MTV Music awards! My sister and I voted every day and it paid off for them. We were very happy.
So now I have tons of French homework to do and I should get to it before I run out of time. I have a test tomorrow and that means lots of freak out. I have my cell phone set up to sound an alarm every time it's time for me to switch to a new homeowork subject and that will be soon. I need to do. Been Frenching for more than an hour and feel like I haven't gotten anything done. TTYL!

Monday, October 31, 2011

Chapter 33: If anything....

I haven’t been in this emotional state for years. The state where your own house feels alien and your bed room, once your sanctuary suddenly feels so fragile and temporary. Emotions are charged but not cluttered. My mind is queenly selfish; all I can think about is myself right now. I cannot succeed at life. Why do things when others can do them better? Why go on with school when grades are suffering and may never get better? Why go to work when all one does is spend the money again? School is killing me. It’s going to destroy my life. I can’t do it. I’m failing.
This feeling of being alien in your own home I mentioned happens when time drifts into nonexistence and you can’t—and won’t—count it any more. It doesn’t matter because you made your mind: All these questions don’t need to be answered because it’s going to end. YOU are going to end it. Why try and cheer up when it’s going to come back? This lose, failure, destruction, lameness…it’s all going to come back and drag you back down. You spend more time down than anything else. No one is thinking of you  (lack of internet social interactivity is proof enough), no one is texting you, calling you, needing you…You are a waste of space on this earth, getting bad grades. It’s time to leave. You will never have the love you want, the man of your dreams. Your depression is too strong for you. For me. I can’t stand it. What good am I? I had plans, but it’s all determined by this stupid school. They killed my dreams and hope. I have nothing left.
Bad grades cannot be fixed, parents who despise and will never respect you are just that. The only thing you have is yourself and you are letting you down. You cannot fix any of this. Nothing is good any more. It never was, I was just under the illusion it was.
Why don’t I do it now? Not because I secretly think it will get better, I know it won’t. Or if it does, it just gets worse again. What do I have to live for? Nothing. I don’t do it because I’m afraid. Not of the Afterlife, just afraid. I could do it. I know so many simple ways. But I’m too much of a coward to take the cowards way out.
I am nothing. I am an empty shell with nothing left to give. I gave and gave and gave. I helped other people, inspired them to do things, worked for them, slaved for them, bowed under their feet, been used and abused by them. What have I gotten back? Plans of nothingness and bad grades to ruin my life. I’m a stranger now on this planet. I want to go home.    
If anything, dear God, let me dance the Macabre tonight. Please. 

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Chapter 32: I Can't Speak French

I was at a loss for the first chapter title in weeks. Months? It's true though. I'm taking French at the University and it's so hard. It was simple at first and I loved it. Then we started conjugating verbs and it was all down hill. Apparently, that's all you do in French so I've having to work super-duper-extra-chocolaty-fudge-covered hard at it. About 6 hours a week just on French. But it will be worth it. I want to speak it fluently. And then teach English in France. There is a chance for second year French students to live in Angers for 5 weeks this summer, but it is far too expensive for me. Sad considering Angers is only an hour from Paris and my tower. I would so love to see it. I started crying in class when we were being told about it. I must visit my France someday. Why do I love it so much? I promise it's not for the normal, shallow and uninteresting reasons of every other female in the world, and because I claim that, I cannot explain it any more. I just love it. Some of my ancestors are from there and spoke the language. The Scottish ones. Hahah, that makes sense. But it's part of me and I want to know it.
It's also raining. For the first time in more than a year, it has rained for more than five minutes. It's October and finally it is cloudy, grey and raining. How marvelous! I need the grey and gloom. I haven't been able to write a single inspired word since moving to Texas. With ten months of pure Summer and some odd back and forth months, there is no change in the seasons and so the people hear never get to change. They laps into this ugly, humid rut and their brains start to decay and become useless. Now it's happening to me! My imagination, thought and cleverness are melting away. With no reason to change and deal with Mother Nature, the Texan man has become useless!
I could go on, but I've exhausted this speech with my acquaintances here.
I've also been on the search for a good cemetery for photography and haven't had any luck yet. Sigh...
Life is changing for me. Not the weather though. It's hard to meet new things and make something amazing out of them when your brain and soul are now dormant, inanimate objects!

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Chapter 31: How Great Is Our God?

Yes, how great? Is He great enough to bring my brother home? Great enough to make sure he was not on that helicopter that was shot down? Great enough to let his wife know he's ok? Great enough to let my brother fly all over the world at 30,000+ feet at hundreds of miles per hour protecting our country? Great enough to make sure he is invisible while behind enemy lines doing his secret jobs for America?
I have to believe that the answer is yes. If I don't, I die from worry and panic--my constant companions in life already. Ever times the news comes on in the morning, I listen. I have to. Normally it's nothing to worry about. But every once in a while, a detail is given that makes my heart flutter, halt, then pound like a pagan war drum. M head spins and I can't breath for moment when they mention something about the Air Force. Or other things. Anything that means him. My brave, crazy brother. I trust in his wisdom, smarts, skills and all that he had been taught and figured out on his own...but God? Can I trust God to protect him? Can I give my brother to God? I have given over so many men to Him and, as of yet, nothing has come of it. That I can see...
To day and everyday, I need to be reminded how great our God is. Why do I need to be reminded? Because I am human. I have no freakin' clue how great He is. I need to start looking and find out.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Tag, You're Dead

A short story that muscled its way into "The Rebel's Rules". I left it out for so long, but it came out better than I thought. Especially for a first draft. I'll clean it up later, but for now here it is!

                                    Tag, You’re Dead

The sound of rain from inside a raincoat with the hood up is different from any other kind. Rain on the roof doesn’t sound the same. Rain in a tent is similar, but still not quite like the rattling of rain just on top of your head, covered by only a layer of plastic rubber. It’s close, personal; you can hear every drop.
His hands were cold. This rain was cold. The thunder was far off and seemed to roll over the length of the sky, the sound growing closer. His breath was rising in thick, steady clouds of white exhaust. Around his feet, the water was puddling, clear at first then when the blood reached it, it smoked red like you’ve seen blood do in water. The fingers that were once clutching the gun’s handle were now slack and frozen, the metal of the body and barrel freezing. His mind was just as frozen. He could only feel like he was moving by watching the red swirls jig and jag in the puddle as the raindrops hit it one after the other. It was something to do. He had to do something. Any moment now, a car would drive by and see what he had done. He half wanted one to. Wanted someone or something to see what he had done and do something about it…or to him in return.
His eyes followed the red stream that was leaking into the clear puddle up to the body the red was coming from. It was on its back, backpack by its side, black jeans soaking wet, eyeliner running down its pale face. He considered the body’s style of dress with disinterest like he had done before. All of this, the grey t-shirt, black hair in the face and the black and white striped hoodie were something he had come to loath. He took one step towards the body and bent down. He waited in this position for another five minutes as if he expected the body to jump up and drag him to the ground. It didn’t move. He reached out and snatched the silver and black iPod out of the wet street and put it into his own jacket pocket.
The deed was done now. The spoils collected. He stood back up and looked once again at the body. It was so thin. Another thing to hate about it. He watched the rain make new patterns out of the leaking eyeliner on its pale face. This got boring. It was time to go. But where?
He turned away from the body and began to walk down the cold, deserted Detroit street. Everyone was inside watching TV or eating dinner like a nice, normal, happy family. Detroit-normal anyway. Family? He jerked around to stare at the corpse one more time as if daring it to say “I’ll tell my big brother and he’ll beat you up!” but it didn’t move. With that thought, he gripped the gun more tightly and gnashed his teeth. Older brothers weren’t a problem when they went to the same high school. Even if he was seventeen. Age didn’t matter.
He took out his school ID and read it out loud as if to convince himself that he was the boy looking up so happily out of the high school lunch card.
“Coen Dillard. Detroit. Junior. Age: 15.”
That was all it took. He was once again a smiling, happy, innocent fifteen-year-old boy. He performed this spell whenever he felt the need, which wasn’t often; because often, he was a good boy. He was a good black boy, people would say. He was a gentleman at the grocery store when he would help old ladies with their bags. High grades at school were good and he was the captain of the hockey team. He was going to be locked away in the family vault as the family’s prize golden boy. So to him this action was low. But no matter, it had to be done. He hated sinking to his incriminated brother’s level, but someone had to get rid of that one person.
He walked back over to the body, suddenly unsure, as these people are, if he had killed the right person. He hesitated for another five minutes before he bent down to the corpse’s level. He knew he wouldn’t have to touch it though. The ID card was in the backpack. He found it and read it too:
“Noland Clark. Detroit. Sophomore. Age: 16.”
Yes, it was the right person. And now he was dead. The rain had stopped, but the blood had flowed all the way down to the nearest stop sign. That was a long way for a dead boy to travel.

Detroit was known for its crime rate so it was no surprise when the next day at the breakfast table, the little sister, Sara, ran into the kitchen and said, “Mama, someone’s got died on the TV. I think there was a shootin’ at Coen’s school!”
No one cared. Murder was common enough in Detroit. Someone would die that day too and the next. And Coen would see to it. Someone would have to die again. And it would be as simple as last time. Noland had an older brother who would be after him in a hurry as soon as he figured out who it was who shot his little brother. And this older brother was smart. It wouldn’t take long.
Morning classes were canceled for a small memorial service. It was raining again. Coen sat in the back of the bus as it drove him and twenty other students to the memorial site. It was almost considered extra credit if you went to enough school memorial services in a year. In the back, hair in his face, earbuds in his ears like his brother, sat Noland’s older brother. Coen could watch him without wincing or a drop of guilt. Inside his backpack the silvery gun waited again. But these things never work out the way most people hope they will. All day he was around the older brother of his first victim and he never could get a moment where he thought he could shoot. So he waited.
The bus dropped a handful of the kids off at a single stop and Coen got off too. He stood long enough at the stop sign to watch where his target walked to. He went down the street then turned left. Coen dashed after him when he turned and ran until he came to the same corner. It was an alley way. The boy was walking down it at a fast pace. Did he know he was being followed? No, he couldn’t. He walked to the end of the alley way and crossed the street then stopped and waited. He turned around and began to look left and right as though he were waiting for someone.
Coen ducked behind a large, smelly green dumpster and peered over the top. Close to the edge of the lid his eyes saw over, was a small ant crawling at lightning speed as though it wanted to leave the scene of the crime. He watched the bug for what felt like many long minutes. It crawled then stopped to try and pick at a piece of gum that was attached to the side. When it couldn’t get it up, it began to run again. It ran very fast. When Coen looked up, he saw a car slowing down at the spot where the other boy was. He swore in his head then stood up to take the shot. He aimed, someone opened the door of the driver’s side of the car, he fired and they stood up blocking his shot.
The boys’ mother fell to the ground, a silver bullet through her skull causing her brains to splatter over the car and the street. Coen didn’t flinch as he watched. He had always wanted to know what real live human brains looked like. He watched the elegant white lady fall, her handbag spilling its guts out as it hit the ground too. The other boy ran to his mother’s side, his own makeup smeared down his face, just like his dead brother’s, as he fell to his knees next to her crying with her blood on his white face. Crying was weak, Coen thought. So he cried and grew just a little stronger from this miss fire. Oh well, the tougher they come the harder they fall. This was all for the better. Besides, he thought, what mother wants to live in a world where both her sons are dead. This accident was a favor to her.
Sirens split the air with an unexpected shriek. There must have been cops around the corner. The only thing was this: Coen’s brother always told him “Screw up once, you can fix it, screw up twice and you deserve to die”. There was no more messing up. Only the boys were supposed to die. Only the boys needed to die. Deep inside, Coen wondered if this was a sad thing or just something that had to happen. Like Noland’s death. It had to happen. Someone had to kill him. It was all he could think about for days. For months the boy had bothered him.
As he watched the ambulance whisk the body away, he wondered if he should feel guilty. But that thought would have to wait. The police decided that the shot had to have come from his direction because of how the bullet had entered her head and were coming his way. He needed to get home and out of sight. He was safe though, this wasn’t even really his bus stop. No one would know.  
But they did. What Coen had thought was Noland’s iPod was a phone as well and the tracking in it lead the police to his house. The little killer saw the cars outside before his mom did. She would break if cops came banging on her door for a second time. So he told her.
“Mamma,” he said, looking up at her as she lay on her bed, “I killed a boy.”
Little Sara was in the room watching cartoons on the TV and was now captivated by what her brother was saying.
“I’m leaving.”
No one stopped him as he ran out the back door just as the front buzzer sounded. His mother’s eyes were glazed as she watched her last son dash out the door. There was still a chance, she thought, for her to get off unknown.
“Sara, hide in the attic, please,” her mother ordered calmly. She had imagined this day for a long time. Just like this. She scooped up her silken white robe and threw it on over her lingerie and went the front door of her condo.
“My I help you, officer,” she said, sighing and leaning against the door frame.
The officer was taken aback by the tall, white woman standing skimpily clad in front of him. He vaguely composed himself and asked, “Excuse me ma’am, I don’t mean to bother you, but we’re wondering if we might have a word with your son Coen. We understand he attends the same school where Noland Clark was shot and we’re asking all the kids if they know anything or have any information.”
Mrs. Dillard stretched now, flexing her lithe limbs. “I’m a new resident, officer, I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not my business if some little black kid gets in trouble.”
The officer averted his eyes, cleared his through and said, “Noland Clark was a white boy, ma’am. However, Coen Dillard is black.” He looked at Mrs. Dillard again, obviously taking in her ivory skin and yellow hair. “Forgive me, ma’am, we won’t be bothering you no more.”
Mrs. Dillard watched the policeman walk down the steps of one of the only upper class area in all of Detroit. Coen had just gone and done what all the other boys his age were going to at some point or another in their lives. Would she him again? Did she care?

Coen didn’t think he could stand living outside the house, but something inside him drove him  not give up. He couldn’t figure out if it was fear and guilt or even something as simple as laziness. Sometimes, he wanted to sit in an alley and cry. He wanted his mother with him, he wanted his home; but those things weren’t an option now.
After almost a month of stealing from stores and pedestrians for food and going into super markets for warmth from the cold Detroit winter, the little murderer found himself taking out Noland Clark’s photo I.D. and staring at it for hours at a time. Noland Clark’s dark eyes seemed to had changed since his death. In this picture where once they were bored, glazed and uninterested in the word, they were not unseeing, dark, vacant and melancholy. They had seemed live and now they were very dead.
Coen wondered what Noland Clark would have gone on to do in his life. Nothing good for society, he told himself, staring into the ever darkening eyes. If he believed that Noland Clark was not going to do anything great, then it made his death far less mysterious and not so much of a burden. Even though Coen had told himself that feeling remorse was for losers, he did feel it every once in a while. The burden was there, hidden in his heart, but there all the same. Perhaps, Coen told his reflection in a puddle of oil and gutter water, you are no good for society either.
But he would never believe that.

On the last day of his life, Coen was trudging down a particularly dirty and smelly street when the sound of a gun being cocked came to his ears. He turned expecting to see who the person standing at the other end of the ally.
Noland Clark’s older brother, with his hand wrapped tightly around the glistening handle of a gun, eyes blazing with fury, glared across at Coen. Coen made no move, sign or gesture that he was afraid that Noland Clark’s brother could see, but in Coen’s heart, he was screaming for his life.
Don’t kill me, he whispered in his mind.
“You’re taking away my chance to make it right,” Coen said out loud. The silver gun didn’t even twitch.
“What about my brother’s last chance?” the one holding the gun screamed in reply. “You can’t make it right!”
I can take away your pain, was the mental reply.
Coen didn’t say anything for a long time. He gazed at the figure in front of him. In an instant he knew. He knew Noland Clark’s brother was not going to kill him. Why not? Why let him live? The anger that suddenly boiled up Coen surprised even him. Fiery rage engulfed him at the thought of having to live on in this blackly guilty way. He wanted the guilt gone, but he did not want to have to pay for it.
“I won’t pay for what I did to Noland Clark,” he spat. “You want revenge? You’ll have to kill me. Kill me!” he shouted.
Noland Clark’s brother was gripped with the fear that Coen had dashed aside before when he pulled the gun on Noland Clark. Coen remembered the fear of actually holding a weapon to a boy’s head. His eyes had widened and he had gasped from fright at his decision just before he pulled the trigger. The it was over. If he had hesitated for more second, like Noland Clark’s brother was doing now, then Noland Clark will still have been alive. But something in Coen had made him cast away the fear and thrill of the kill was pumping venomous desire though his veins at the sight of the blood. The kick of the shot had pulled the gun from his hand and made a splashing noise when it landed in the puddle.
When Coen’s eyes refocused from his memories, he saw Noland Clark’s brother vanish around a corner, the gun lying on the concrete. The numbness of having a flashback did not fade away as Coen walked toward the gun like a limp puppet. He fell onto his backside next to the gun and picked it up with his gloved hand. Like a windup toy, as though he had imagined this moment for years, he put the head of the gun in his mouth. He waited for that moment—that gasp—to come, but it never did. He heard the gun go off before he felt it. For just a moment the world tipped, then it swam, then the evanescence of this world faded into a black nothing as he slipped into the next life to await his judgment. Fear gripped his heart in its last few, feeble, guilty beats of life before it stopped like a clock out of wind.  

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Chapter 30: My World, His World

I bought a journal again to try to keep myself into writing about myself. And writing in general. It's working with music is up on the youtube account so don't forget to check that out! Also, I put together my solo music for my dance debut (whenever that is!) and I'm pretty proud of it. I'm saving up for a white costume now and (maybe) two Moorish scimitars and a white veil. It's going to be pretty epic. I also have my drum solo music picked out, which I will probably choreograph first. It's much easier.

NOTE: The guy from Chapter 29 is totally gone, just so you know. And I love it. Did he go back on his word and not be a friend when I needed one? Yes, but that's ok. Men do that.

I have these awesome fake nails on (trimmed them, painted them and glued them myself!) so it’s hard to type and therefore this may be shorter than normal because I can hardly stand the frustration of typing with long nails.
While on my way home from teaching the other day, I was thinking about God. Duh…I’ve been thinking about how I’m kind of cutting Him out of my life. Not on purpose, just not getting into the word and spending much time praying. Thought I did give a person in my life to God recently. But I don’t think He’s going to do anything until I change up a bit. So any way, what I was thinking is simple.
I created Celroth Do’non. That is the world in my Generations series of fantasy novels (it’s been years since I’ve typed that name…). I love Glenn, my chosen hero, and his brothers. And all the people I picked to help him out. They are mine and (strange as it may sound) they love me. Glenn has been with me for years.
So this is my world. A world I love, have nurtured, adored, devastate, rebuilt, taken hope from, given hope to. It’s all mine and I love them. Now, how would I feel if someone else came up, stole my manuscript, changed it around and turned it into something it was not? I would scream and be furious. I would want to kill them. Someone else coming in and taking over MY world. Making MY people do what they said! Argh, how that would burn me. My people forgetting me and listening to someone else.
Hello, God, does this sound familiar?
I would want my people back, but more than that—if they could—I would want them to want ME back. If they did—and if I could see that they did—of course I would help them come back. I can’t just go and take them back. They have to want to come back. Then it would be all the more precious. I would do what I could to bring them back, remind them who they really belong to, but it would be up to them to make the choice. I love them and cannot make them to anything they don’t want to.
Am I getting close, God?
This is our world. What I have just described is earth. We were the Creator’s and now we have been stolen…and almost no one is listening for His call. We’re all too busy worrying about our nonexistent love life, or money, school and job. Shove those and move on with your REAL life! God is calling you back to Him. That’s what I learned. Now I just have to get it right. He is calling me and I need to respond. I just wrote my personal fantasy peace “The Eternal”. The knight had to leave his family and worldly things just like Christ commanded. We need to too. I worry so much about finding a man to heal my broken heart and sooth my soul. I need to stop that. Only God can save me that way. I worry about money for school. If God wants me there—yes, I need to work for it—but He will provide. He will. He wants you to do what He wants you to do so He will make it happen.
Look at me preaching….I’m so good at theory. Let’s see how it plays out in real life. But these are things I’ve learned again and again. I hope it sticks this time. I took one step. I gave a boy I like to God. It feels good to not have him on my mind all the time. Why did I have to give him to God? Because he doesn’t know God like I do. He’s off limits. So all I can do is be a witness an pray.
That was side tracking, but whatever! I’ve learned a lot since my last devastating entry thanks to the two wise women of my life: my best friend and my sister-in-law. I am blessed, but I am blind.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Wild Heart: An Improvised Poem

Come back
you silly wild thing!
Stop this
Or you will bleed
to death.

How many times
little wild one
will you run
at the first sighting?
You can only
break so many times.

A wild heart
is a curse.
The fire inside must
burn bright.
It is wild fire.
When it escapes
all in its path
are devoured.

Stay still
wild heart
or you will
the world...

The rubble you make
and the stone around
who will raise
you now?

Stupid wild heart
see what you made
me do?
Fire burns and
the pain lingers 

Leave them alone
stop chasing them.
Look at yourself
wild heart.
Love yourself.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Chapter 29: Stonework Castle: The Fortress is Under Attack!

Are you attacking me? What is God doing? Who let you in to the fortress? Why are you trying to come in, this is my hideout!

I did almost fall for you. Not “fall in love”, but just “fall” for you. I bet you know why too. You literally just popped in to my life for twenty seconds and suddenly you want to contact me. Why? What happened in those twenty seconds that made you want to contact me? What was it? After you got the urge, what made you go through with contacting me? What were you thinking when you saw me? When you asked for my number? When you sent that first text? I am a young, strange, nobody to you. Why do you care? What do you care about about me?

You made it very clear that I can’t fall for you. I almost did though, you know. You can’t walk in to somebody’s life, unfold them, rip out their guts, expose their deepest fears, see the darkest corners of their souls and not be scared of it, be understanding and not judgmental and then not expect them to fall for you in some way. You found me. You Saw me and understood me. You could talk to me and expose me. You wanted me to be comfortable with that. I almost got there. But then you turn around and say “nothing more than a friend”…you can’t do that to an insecure little girl. That’s why I wonder. I wonder why you care if you won’t be anything more. Why are you investing this amount of time into a little, scared girl? Why are you pretending to care? You made her vulnerable, you opened yourself up to help her and now you are shutting her down. She doesn’t want to share with you. Why should she? You are just some guy who, for reasons unknown, got her number and mauled her open. She doesn’t want to talk to you about herself if exposing an sharing with you means nothing. It will not help her for you to value her, open her up, help her, understand her—if you are just a friend. You are not special enough to get that deep into her soul if you just a friend. She keeps her friends at bay. Friends belong outside the wall. Her parents will never understand either. She’s not a allowed to spend time with guys. So she can’t justify the time spent with you to her mother and father.

Aside from that, which is a whole other problem in itself, you invade her life, her privacy an made her think you were special. The one who was to get beyond those walls was supposed to be someone special. Which you have made it quite clear you are not. You are invading a space that was reserved for whoever God had in mind to be her love, her leader on earth, her Godsend—whatever you want to call the man who is suppose to hold her heart. This is not your space. That’s why she is so uncomfortable and so scared an angry that you are beyond those walls. It’s not the place for you. Or is it? This is what I think about most. Are you that one? If you feel like you may be, then why do you go in the opposite direction and say the opposite thing? What do you feel? How o you feel about her? It comes back to “why do you care?”. I won’t let you in any closer until you tell me. That’s what I want so badly to say, but I can’t. You’ve made it feel like the only way to get answers or move forward is to let you in. I’m stuck. I don’t want you in that space, beyond those walls. That’s for My Someone to do and see. But if I don’t let you in, how will I know if you’re him or not? So I am the who has to suffer and take the risk. I have to let you in to See me and know me like you already do. My heart is the one that beats with the fear of breaking. My heart is begging me to not put it on the line with you. It’s too unsure of everything. But my mind wants to know who you are, why you are doing this and what your heart is saying. You said I would be good for you. I’ve heard that before, but that was from someone who was special at the time. You said you don’t want to be special to me. But you want to be a supportive and understanding friend. Need I remind you, sir, YOU stepped into MY life. Don’t dash in front of me during such an insecure part of my life, say you can save me and then leave me “as a friend”…not after you made me fall for you for a brief moment. I am still fallen. But I am picking myself up again, watching your every move to see if you will help me up and hold my hand. I am forced to let you in to my walls, barricade and fortress. This fortress has not been penetrated before. Now you’re here, what do you want? If it is to leave me “as a friend”, then you can go now. Cause this is not your place. Please…don’t break my heart; it’s beating to keep me alive and if it breaks, it won’t work. I need my heart. I need it to beat for someone. Tell me about God and if you’ve heard Him speak.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Chapter 28: He's gone, but the King is back!

After the sadness of yesterday and seeing the boy I like with someone else, I had a revelation while in the shower. Soon I will tell you about Jinx, my fairie friend who I met in Kansas. But first, the revelation!
The one reason I have turned down guy after guy after guy is because I know they do not have the ability to be a spiritual leader for me. While this is important, I have been taking it too far. I was looking for a man to save me. To drag me back to the path of great and safe spirituality! It's like I didn't even want to journey on the path together, I just wanted him to lead me. Suddenly, I realized what I was doing wrong. I was leaving God out of His own equation. I didn't even want Him to save me. I wanted someone else to. WRONG, Mirella! So wrong! How could I even think that? Oh, I'm human, oops...
I need God to lead me to Himself. He's been calling me. I've felt that for ages and Sonni pointed it out to me a few weeks ago. God must save me and I must follow Him down the path. Sounds simple, I know! But it comes in the most unlikely ways. You may not be following God down His path, but you think you are. But you're not. So when this revelation hit, I rinsed out my hair and closed my eyes to soak up the hot water. Then, in the darkness I saw him. There was my old friend Jinx standing at the end of a hallway that looked like a high school hall from a Frank Peretti novel. His hair was not spiked any more or streaked with purple. He wasn't glittering any more and his clothes were dark jeans and a black t-shirt. He looked at me for a moment, turned then moved his hand like he was going to wave, but didn't. He just walked with his back to me, down the hall, around the corner and into the light. He was gone. I don't know if I'll see him again or not. I feel like he was linked to my trying to figure this out. And now that I have, he's gone. I miss him though. A little. I know I will. He was my weird friend back when I needed someone and no other people were around. But I'll know what's wrong when I see him again, I guess. I'm happy though. I want God now. I want to see hat He does now that I know hat to do and will do it. What about boys? Belly Dance? School? A job? I have  so much to figure out and do.
Do these things withe me, God. And thank you so much for Blogger's battery went out and I'm finishing this post about 20 minutes later. My computer crashed when I turned it back on. So thank You!

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Chapter 27: The Journey is in Vain

This week has been a scary, steady heart beat. So close to flat-line, yet blipping every second or so to let me know I'm still okay. I had fun with new friends on Monday. After work at my early morning job, we went to Town Center, had lunch and then went to one of the groups houses where Bailey and I played pool for hours. I lost about four times and won once. It was super fun. I had looked forward to that day because of someone who was going to be there. I was so excited to see him that I could hardly sleep the night before! But when the time came, I basically ignored him. This seems to be my coping mechanism with guys I have crushes on. But this one is different then just a crush. I've only felt this twice before in my life. Sounds whorish I know, but I think that a person can have a special connection more than once. It just shows that that person to which you are drawn has something that your One True Love will have. I think that everyone has been drawn this way to more than one person in their life time. They just won't admit it. I have been truly drawn to only two people in my life. One was when I was very young. About ten I think. Yes, I  think it can happen at that young of an age. Next was last semester with that whole Parnell episode.
I thought about him the other day when I was showing Elise how he had blocked me from his facebook. I logged in with my ex's facebook and saw his pictures. My heart hurt all over again as I looked at him. I knew then, that that connection hadn't died. It's the same I feel when I look at the first boy I had that feeling for. He's married now, but still the echo sounds in my core.
Any way, my defense mechanism is to NOT talk to the guy I like. But, oh, how I want to! However, the same red flags are coming up with as did with my ex. Things about this new boy remind me of him. Things about this new boy make me question him since they relate to my ex. I'v being drawn to the same type of boy. And for the record, I did not feel The Connection with my ex. Ever. I just loved him. But I know--and knew then too--that it was not true love. I may have thought it was at certain times, but not for the entirety of our relationship. I just know. There were things about him that showed me. And my heart spoke loud and clear. So I am wary of this new boy. But how I like him! I am having to cling to my God all the more as my heart flutters and dances at the mere thought of this boy. But this is all beside the point!
The journey...
I hate my job at the mall. I have been sexually harassed by my manager there, he has lied to me, he and the assistant manager gang up on me, they are rude and mean to me (they have laughingly admitted to this) and they criticize everything I say. They have never spoken one kind or friendly word to me. I've told you about them before. To escape them, I applied for a job at UH's writing center. After preparing an entire week with essay editing and worry, I climbed into my car with google maps papers clutched in my hands to brave the horrid journey to downtown Houston in the middle of the afternoon. The hour drive was fine up until I got lost. It's unavoidable. I was in a place I had never been and no one could help me. I called a few places but had to leave voice mails. After going back and forth for 15 minutes, I find the UH campus. Then I have to find the building that I'm looking for. Turns out I have to park far far away and walk there. So I do. When I get to the interview, I suddenly get this feeling. "You're not a UH student yet. You're not going to get the job." I ignore the feeling I've had for weeks that is screaming at me now and proceed into the room. I meet someone named Ben and the Asian lady who had been sending me emails. I see they have the copies of my essay and resume in hand. We sit and she says, "When will you be graduating?" I tell her, "I hope in 2013," with perfect confidence. "Are you not a student here?" she asks for some reason. "No..." my brain says, my mouth following suit. The rest of the short conversation is all a blur. I stood up and left before I knew it. I didn't get it. I wasn't a UH student yet. I was trapped at my other job.
The sun had decided to come out now simply to burn my as I walked back to my car all the way on the other side of the campus. I get there to a surprise. What's the one thing that happens in the movies to make a characters day worse when they reach their car? A parking ticket. A disgusting, fat, yellow parking ticket. For fifty dollars no less!
My strength is gone, my hopes drowned and my mind is not even my own any more as I get in the car and drive the now hour and half drive back to my house.
So here I am. Sitting with fear on the edge of change as I wish I could have escaped a wretched job. God is showing me something. I just don't know what. He gives me this boy. Why? He puts me through this wretched journey to nothing. Why? God, what are you doing to my heart?

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Chapter 26: The Lucky Ones

I have fantasized--with good reason--for years that I was a maiden here on earth with a curse upon her. My curse: To bad luck to others and to be alone and miserable. I always thought that it was God's way of making sport. "Let me see how miserable I can make this one mortal, human, girl!" No, I did want this to be another sad, moping, ranting post...I had a nice long, happy one planned out but I never write those ideas down so they never make it on here. I've decided that during the day I need to write down the things I want to write about so I don't forget them and so that way a happy post WILL make it on here! Those happy-posts seem to be an endangered species. I will fix that though. I need to show some joy every once in a while.
Well, to day at work just sucked as usual. I don't even need to go into details at this point, I don't think. But mostly what I thought about while text-counciling one of my friends and thinking about how how two people I know just had sex with each other, I thought "Parents always say their kids are lucky to have such good, caring parents". You know you've heard it. But as I was thinking of the girl I know who gave herself to a guy and my poor mixed up friend, I thought "No, my parents are lucky to have such a good kid as me". It's true. Every kid, college, high school and below, are having sex, doing drugs, drinking alcohol and getting into so much worse trouble. I see this every day. In almost every kid. I am not exaggeration in the least. I know I can try harder, any one always can, but my parents need a reality check. If they knew half of what I have to deal with every day (emotions, money, people, jobs, school...) and half of what I see every day, then they would be a lot different.
There is so much crap out there in the world, I cannot even begin to describe in a blog post. So I won't. Yes, my parents and I had a spat tonight...again. But I am trying to be mature about it, learn something, see it their way and get on with life. But after a horrid day, it's really hard. It really really is. I'm going to spend a bit of time with the Creator tonight and ask Him to comfort me. He's the only one who can handle to listen to me rant, scream and cry for hours. And so I will. I'm reading Hosea and it's proving to be a wonderful, yet slow, read. I am praying for wisdom and peace and may you find it as well. Good night.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Chapter 25: Ramblings of a Reptile

Alright, so I'm not a reptile, but I do have a migraine and I am super tired after this week. I worked every day this week (and tomorrow) at my 2nd job which requires me to be up at 6:30am at the latest and on my feet till 11:30am after which I  go to my other job to work. It's very tiring when you throw in finals and studying and trying to keep up with being in shape. There just don't seem to be enough hours in the day.
Any way, what I wanted this to be about mostly was something I discovered about my family. But I do have to mention that the people at my other job (the one that is always annoying) are being very rude and mean again. They keep saying that I have didn't give sufficient notice of needing to get off work early on Sunday. I guess a month in advance isn't sufficient. Who knew? So I got another talking to at work today and I don't know what to do any more. Mom gave me a big speech about how I need to quit that job and find something else that's not retail. Well, sorry, but someone with just a high school diploma can't do much these days. I need that job for the money. I have to save up for college. I'm 21 so I REALLY have to. But even I am beginning to wonder if the daily verbal, emotion and personal beatings are worth it. Yes, they bash me personally. "You're stupid", "You're such a know-it-all", "What a bitch", "You need to get to work" (while THEY are on facebook...) "You look stupid today", "Your music is dumb"..."Christians are stupid people". It never ends. All of these things I've said I remember because they have been said more than once and so I remember. But that's not the half of it.
But I don't want to talk them any more. So on to what I discovered about my family.
Families can be close or they can fight. It's always one or the other in real life. Sometimes they have fights (it's different then 'families who fight' meaning all the time). Why do families fight? I am sure that question has been asked over the course of millions of years. For my family, I have found the answer: We are too awkward around each other to do anything else. You want to know a secret about my family? One, there is no "I love you" exchanged between siblings. Only recently, and over facebook mind you, have my sister and started saying that to each other. Two, when we want to complain to each others faces but not quite to start a fight, we use sarcasm. Three, we cannot touch each other. We hate to sit by or snuggle with each other. Four, we hate showing appreciation, compliments or gratitude with one another.
That's the basics and it's the truth. We can't get comfy and beyond the "awkward" stage so we have to fight. We just do. We have to. I know it doesn't make sense to you, but if you are in the same situation, then you understand or you will now. Families shouldn't be awkward with each other. They should be like the fake families in the movies where the kids bond together against the bad guys and win and love each other. Oh, all that one, two, three stuff I mentioned is not just between siblings, it's parents too, except for the "I love yous", which parents are good at, but don't always mean. So yes, my family is too awkward to love and get along with each other. We need to overcome that though...and soon.
I wish I could just tell you my stories on here. Like the whole "when I was growing up..." kind of thing, but that must be reserved for the proper time...which has not seemed to have shown itself yet. I don't have much to tell. But that's why I'm trying this new exercise! I am forcing myself to find myself interesting by vlogging (not on the web though) and by posting on here AT LEAST once a week. I want to post a poem on here though later tomorrow if I can though. Meaning, if I remember.
I have my lab final tomorrow. I'm a little nervous about it though since I have a 77 in the class. Which sucks. I'm usually an A student, but clearly science is NOT my thing. I did some extra credit so I hope to get a B and up my sad GPA from last semester. This school has destroyed my GPA. I think Texas is destroying me, what with this horrid job, no friends, a disconnected spiritual life and a college that is killing my GPA (I know, jerks, it's not just the college). I'm not sure what to do, but that's where my warrior persona comes in; I will fight this fight and I will rise out of the rubble as the victor. So take that!

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Chapter 24: To Learn and Know

I will not try to disguise my anger and the tears that are hiding in the depths of my eyes as I write this. Yes, I am angry. I am sad. I am forlorn. I am lost. I'm just ultimately depressed. Very depressed. If you think  that it's just a phase, then I as you to go back and look at my life. I know it's something deeper than temporary angst.

I said I would write more. The problem is, there is so much I want to write about but cannot write about. I want to respect the privacy and reputation of the people I hate, loath and make my life a living hell. Why, you ask. I have no idea. I should exploit them in literature. Make them vial villains of my story. But I won't. This chapter, I had wanted to talk about happy things since my morning went so well. It was a wonderful morning. But before I tell the story of today, I should tell you that I have been battling my father and mother over school and college since I was 17 years old. And now it's really boiling down with me being 21 and not having any college degrees. I had to switch degrees so many times to accommodated what my parents wanted for me. To this day, I am still sacrificing what I want and making myself out to be someone I'm not so I can please them.

Long story short...
I want to teach Creative Writing in two-year universities. Why two-year? I don't know. Sounds cozier to me. First, however, I wanted to be an actress. Mom and dad tried to squash that dream for years. I pursued it but eventually mingled Art with it. I saw no future for me in Art. I love drawing, painting, pastels, building and crafting, but I cannot do it for a living. I lack that type of inspiration. So what to do? My true love was musical theatre and that was so far out of the question. So I discovered my heart's desire (yes, it is different than a true love. True love can be found more than once. A heart's desire can only be found once. It is greater.) That desire was writing. Writing in all forms, but above all--Creative Writing. You probably cannot tell from this blog, but I love writing and want to take care with it. Not on here though. This is different. Any way, I decided to write. Naturally, hurricane parent strikes again with, "You can't make a living off of that" and other such true notions that a young, passionate heart never wants to hear. I published a novel with a con-publisher and continued to write poems, short stories (fewer than I should though) and lengthy novels as well. Finally, I decided that the only way to make money off of writing (as in 'make a living') was to do the ultimate sin: Teach others to follow in my worthless, creative footsteps. I would teach. At first, I said high school, but after observing a high school English class for a semester (I was homeschooled don't forget) I decided, "Why waist my time with kids who don't care at all?" Yes, I still detest children as much as I want to be a foster mother. So I decided to elongate my school years and go for a Masters in English with emphasis in Creative Writing so I could be a college professor of Creative Writing!
The dream. But now it's down to fighting parents again. Not about degrees (I hate that old battle. It kept me in junior colleges far too long) but about schools and colleges. I say one school, dad says no. I say another school, dad says what about the last one? On and on we go, a new carousel to obtain victory over. I though that HBU would be a good one. But they soon showed themselves to be too expensive and not even have Creative Writing programs. So I am now looking at UHD. I have an entire plan set up:

Plan:  1. work through BA at UHD
           2. Do intern thing while there.
           3. Teach with Ami whole time for experience.
           4. Graduate (maybe Spring 2015 if I need 4 years, maybe earlier) and apply to Texas Teachers
           5. Will get some kind of job to further experience (can keep teaching with Ami?)
           6.  Get teaching job with Texas Teachers in high schools after graduate and work on Masters.
           7. Graduate with Masters from HUD and teach!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Finally…..

There it was. Finally. But then dad looks up UHM. It has Creative Writing programs, not just English. UHD did only have English, which is why I chose it. Crazy? Yes! Because I thought my parents would want me to go into English and creative writing later. Dad would hate it if I went in to school for such a useless "freak-art-person" degree. That, and I thought I read that the Creative Writing was a specialty for only graduates. For some reason, my logic was wrong. Dad then says to go to UHM. After we look at the web site for a few minutes and I try to tell him information, he says stuff like, "Oh, you don't know anything" and "how do you know?" when I have spent all afternoon looking at the site. Granted, I did miss that UHM's Creative Writing program wasn't JUST for graduates. Then, we're looking at the campus map and dad wants to know what the school is next to. He said, "Can I zoom out and see it?" to which I replied, "No, it's a campus map, you can't do that." He then zooms IN to a portion of the map. "No one wonder your people call you a know-it-all, you talk about things you don't know," he says, focusing on the map.
'My people' referring to some of my missions who call my stupid and say I'm a know-it-all because I know a few things they don't. But that stung. Really bad. I cannot explain how badly it hurt because I have complained and ranted enough about these people for you to understand. I apologize. It happens all the time though. I hate it and it makes me hate them. Now I hated my dad for saying it to me. It took all of my amazing  self-control (something I only possess on occasion) to stay where I was, not punch him and run out the door. I wanted to leave then. And not come back. After ten minutes, I had to leave the room at least. I was so hurt. I went upstairs to my room and cleaned it to relieve my anger a bit. I came back down and dad and I finished looking at UHM's web site. I'll probably go there now. 
But I am still so hurt. For more reasons than this. I need to journal more so you know. You are in the dark and see me as a whining bitch right now. But I'm not. 
For months now I've been felling non-existent. I go through life without people seeing me. Hearing me or thinking of me. I don't exist. I am not loved. I never hang out with people. But how I long to right now. I hate people and I love being alone, but it is also my biggest fear...and it's coming true. I watch movies with couples in it and I know how they survive the adventures and trials of the movie: They have each other. That is, seriously, all it takes. If I had someone in my life who loved me, listened to me, knew that I was breathing, would touch would be easier. Traveling through life this alone is difficult. I could not imagine before and now I cannot imagine it the other way around. I cry almost every night for being so alone. 
I watched the 90s version of "A Little Princess" last night and it really came apart for me (kind of like when I watched the lantern scene in "Tangled". Did I tell you about that?) Sarah shouted to Ms. Mintion, "All girls are princesses. Didn't your father ever tell you that? Didn't he?"
The answer is: No. He did not. My family has this phobia of being intimate and close to one another. They think it's awkward and so they avoid it. Entirely. I think that's why my sister and I fight so much. Why my dad does not show love for me like I need him to. Why my mother feels like she needs to be a in a war with me. I didn't understand it until a month or so ago. My family hates that kind of thing. But it is obvious we all need it. My family is falling apart. Spiritually, financially, and in all other ways. As for me, I feel like I'm not even alive. I do not exist in this world. Maybe that's why I am so unmotivated. You scoffed and laughed as you read that, I heard it. You think I'm wrong. But you are not here and that is why you do not understand. 
I am alone and I hate it. I long for someone in my life. I am so sad during the day (yes, the entire day) that my physical heart actually hurts. I have an ache in my chest that I cannot heal or stop.
Well, that's enough for one night. I need to make a daily or weekly thing out of writing. I know you don't believe me, but I don't have much time for it. I'll make time though. And I need to make more time for my time with The All Father. I think that's part of my problem. But just a part. I think though, that once I find His love, I will find earthly love. But I don't feel like I can romance Him right now. How does dead heart beat again?

Friday, April 15, 2011

Chapter 23: Celestial Gift

I went for a walk this morning since I was feeling particularly stiff and fat, and got a wonderful gift from the All Father.
The morning had started out dull and normal. Which I cannot stand. I was not happy, but I was inches away from being bored to madness. I was also feeling like I was being lazy and not using my time wisely, which I also cannot stand. So I thought I should go for a walk. I grabbed Dorian (my iPod) and headed out into the wonderful, non-humid Texas air. I walked around one lake, through the park and on to the second lake. "Phantom of the Opera" was sweetly singing in my ears as I walked along.
POTO is something special to me. I've always loved it for many reasons, but there is one song in it that I dedicated to me and the Father during a dark time in my put it simply. That song is "All I Ask of You". Wonderful song with amazing lyrics. That is our song, but I have not thought of it or Us in a very long time.
I get to the second lake and the song comes on. I still do not notice. I am out in he beautiful weather that He created, listening to the song I dedicated to Us and I do nothing. I don't see or hear the wonder. Then, as I reach  the center of the bridge over the lake I see my special Celestial Gift. Two, perfectly white swans gliding on he lake, side by side like you would see in a Disney movie. I smile at them and think "How marvelous!" Then it hits me as the chorus of the song soars with new beauty in the shining morning sun. Without even hearing the music, the swans are gliding to it. Perfect rhythm and movements. I stop then and watch as He presents His gift to me.

I stared for what felt like hours, slowly following the swans around the lake, getting close then falling back. The two moved in unison with the song they could not hear until it was over, then they drifted out of sight, under the bridge where I first saw them. I was struck speechless.
I went home feeling a little more loved. I was told to try and romance the Father to get closer to Him recently. I want to do that, but I am human after all and I fail. I forget. I get too lazy. So He took the initiative and wooed me one more time. I love being wooed, but I need to do it for Him too.

Speaking of wooing, on a human scale, I found the key to my heart. I know how any man could woo me and win me over. It's like magic. I felt it happen and my heart nearly burst. I cannot tell you what it is, because then there would be no mystery! But let me say this, when you find the key to your heart, you know it. And you look for it. I am so happy I found it. The funny part about it, is that it has been a huge part of my life since before I can remember. Maybe that is why? I don't know. I just know there is something magical about the dance. The music. The story. The soul of it. I cannot wait to be wooed by a mortal man in this way.
I hope this has been a more happy post than usual. I need to write brighter poetry too, I was told. I'll try. Until then, blessings and safe journeys!

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Chapter 22: A month later...

I'm not writing tonight to talk deeply about some earth shattering thing I've learned. That's what I always wanted this blog to be about though. I wanted it to be something deep and profound every time I wrote. But you have to agree, that would get exhausting! Like a four hour action flick or something. And then there is something else about this blog. I'll admit right now that I got the idea to even start a blog after watching the "July/Julia" movie. I always hated the internet and all the new ways people had created for humans to pretend that they were interested in each other's lives. And for the record, I'm pretty sure Xanga was the first blog.
So I started this blog with this thought: I will write it while on my journey through life, publishing, college and anything else life throws my way and then it will be a memoir! How ridiculous of me. How could I think that I could sit down and write out my thoughts (which will happen more often now, and I'll explain in a moment) and expect them to be publishable material? That's so vane and so self-centered of me. I need to write this for other people. Yes, it is a place for me to talk about MY thoughts, but it is for other people to read. "I want to turn this into an autobiography" is also a stupid idea. I have not lived enough life to do that. This blog is life as it comes. so many times, though, I have wished that I could make it my autobiography. I want to write one because I think that I have something to tell the world. That's why I'm a writer. I have ideas and things to say, but to want to get stuff out now is silly. I am still learning. I know that man deals a fake thing called time and draws all conclusions from how much of that fake object you spent on earth, but life experience matters to me more. I know some people my age have had a lot more, or more correctly, different experiences than me, but does that qualify them to write out a bible of their lives? Perhaps I am being to harsh? I, personally, do not think so.
My favorite quote is this, "How vane it is to sit down and write, when you have not stood up to live"...This means more than how long you have been alive and what experiences you have had. Yes, it even means more than that. It means what have you learned from those trials, those times? Write those down, but DO NOT take that writing as the end-all of your work OR of your life lessons. You may go on to write something that completely contradicts that which you wrote in your earlier days.

Alright, I will get off my soap box now and say this: I will be writing on here more like a journal now. I will try to keep things polished and slightly edited but I prefer this writing to be in it's purest, yet readable, form. I can edit and I can proof-read, but not a lot of it will happen for this page. So, no longer will the posts be these once-in-a-while "deep" posts about "what I've learned". They will be about "my day" and the people in my life. I debated with the idea of mentioning my coworkers in this blog as I will no doubt say the things on here I desperately wish I could say to their faces. I will call them all my "missions" (a reference to one of my pastors sermons) and my work place the "field". Why, you ask? Because they are th missions that the All Father has put into my life on the field of battle. So that being said, I will see you all soon. Blessed journeys!

Monday, February 7, 2011

Chapter 21: Dear Ephesus

Here I will post the first few journals of my travels with King David and Paul as he writes to the Ephesians. Soon I shall travel to Phillipi as well. God bless you and please do not judge a sinning gypsies writing. And yes, some things are missing but I did read it all. I will write about the skipped chapter in Ephesians later. It was so for a reason know only to the Creator. We'll see what happens.

I’ve been through Ephesians before…

Psalm 1 is tiny! It’s about how there are two ways to go. The way of the wicked and the way of a follower of Christ. Verse 1 mentions a “council of the wicked” and a “path” of sinners. I understand the council bit: don’t seek their council and don’t follow it. It’s crocked and bent. Not what you’re looking for. But I was curious about the “path” part. Fortunately, I have a study bible and can look in the margins for other meanings. It said “way”. So, do not stand in the way of sinners. In the way with them or in their way. As in “get out of my way” kind of thing. Maybe either way is bad or wrong.

The other option aside from the “seat of scoffers” is to “delight in the law of God”. This got me thinking. So many times we are told to delight in God among other things. I just never thought of delighting in His law as part of that. But if we do then we will be like strong trees; deep roots by streams of water (verse 3). Another thing about this tree is that it only bears fruit “in its season” and whatever it does prospers (verse 3). In it’s season…As opposed to all the time.

When I opened my bible to Ephesians, I was pleasantly surprised to see that I had read it before…about 3 times by the look of it! Green, pink and blue highlighter and pen and pencil underlines, circles and stars decorate this book in my bible. I look forward to seeing what I already thought about it. Any way…

The first thing I highlighted was the phrase “by the will of God” when it is introducing Paul. He wrote to Ephesus and was who he was (if you know anything about Paul) “by the will of God” (verse 1).

Verse 5 tells me about how I was chosen by God to be his daughter. This reminded about many things I read in Captivating. I need to find all the versus where God claims me as His. I like that. And just after that in verse 6, Paul mentions my favorite thing: What man is here for. He says “to the praise of the glory of His grace”. I Love the word praise. Makes me want to dance and sing all day!

In the past times, I put a box around verse 7, which tells us about redemption. I love that too. Blood, forgiveness and redemption.

My heart was also captured by the end of verse 13, “you were sealed in Him with the Holy Spirit of promise” (verse 13). God sealed me to Him, with Him, for Him. Finally, in verse 16, Paul tells the Ephesians that he prays for them and gives thanks for them because God has promised redemption. I don’t quite get this verse, but I’ll think on it. Lastly, when I last went through, I highlighted this, “I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened so that you may know what is the hope of His calling…” Amen!! This is my prayer, God! Please enlighten my eyes! Open them up and break the lock on my heart!


I’m not sure what chapter 2 is about in Ephesians. The later half talks about peace between Jews and gentiles. Apparently they fought a lot. But “Jews” I’m assuming is referring to the race…not that strange religious group today. I don’t know much about Judaism…maybe I should look it up. I think I heard that they believe in God and everything just not Jesus. Or something. I have no clue. But the best part of chapter 2 that spoke to me was the first verse and how it said that we (I) was dead because of the course of sin I walked in this world. That has been me recently. I’ve been dissing and missing God. I’m glad I started talking to Sonni again. She was a good jump-starter. Maybe I’ll have to read chapter 2 again later. Hmmm…

Psalm 2 is exciting! It starts out by asking what the heck is going on on earth. Why is everyone freaking out? People are “devising a vain thing”. I like how verse 5 says that God will scoff at the rulers of the nations and terrify them. I’d like to see that, Mr. President. Sarcasm and course joking aside, my heart lifted in verse 8 where not only are we (God’s children) promised the nations and the earth, but we are also promised “the ends of the earth”! All these movies and stories about beyond the earth and guess what? WE, the Children, get to inherit it!

I think the best part of chapter 2 is the ending in verse 12 “For His wrath may soon be kindled. How blessed are all who take refuge in Him!” Oh, yes…how very blessed. Do I want to be on God’s bad-side when that wrath is kindled? Um, no, thanks. So get ye out of the path of sinners and the seat of scoffers. “Take warning, O judges of the earth” (verse 10). And while they are taking warning I will be “Worship[ing] the Lord with reverence.

Help me do this, God. Turn my every dance, song and word to praise of you and ready me for this day. Amen.


This is crazy! I’ve been taking belly dance class for three weeks now from what I thought was “Del Espadin Flamenco & Spanish Dance Academy & Soraya's School of Belly Dance, 3939 Hillcroft, Suite 160” but it was really “5711 Hillcroft Ave., Ste. D3, Houston, TX”!

I was so confused when I emailed what I thought was my teacher (Soraya) and got an email back from her saying she wasn’t who I thought she was (I was asking my teacher for the music to the dance I need to learn)! So I started to wonder. Cause I’ve always wondered if belly dancing was not something God wanted me to do…but here’s the proof. I think any way.

So, driven to curiosity, I go to Soraya’s site and find the School of Dance address, put it into goolge maps and get the directions I’ve been following. Yes, they are what I’ve been following. I click on “street view” to see if it looks like the same place. No. It’s not. I start to freak out. What’s going on? HOW did I go to the WRONG studio and still get there when the class was to start (Soraya said her class was at 7pm on Tuesday). So I show up at 7pm on Tuesday. At the WRONG address (didn’t know it then) and sure enough (thinking I’m in the right place) there is a belly dance class at 7pm.

So now I’m thinking “God wanted me in THIS class”. I follow the directions to the WRONG place at the right time. Oh my gosh! Really!? So then I google maps search “The Houston Dance Factory” (the place I accidently went to) and on that street view, I see the place I’ve been going too. Different addresses. Same times though. When I went the first time I followed the directions and got SO lost…and found this place though.

God wants me in THIS class. I don’t know why. But I can wait and see. Maybe I’m wrong about the whole thing? I’ll ask Sonni what she thinks. But either way, I suddenly feel as though I’ve had a small sign. Like I’ve been asking for for…quite some time. I don’t care to write down how long I’ve asked God for a sign that He exists. And something so controversial as belly dance shows me. Something I love to do. Something I want to turn into worship for Him. And know what else? I KNOW I’m supposed to be doing this now. That feels pretty good. I’m not sure what to do. Crying sounds good though.

And do add on to this, my coworker from the books store, Wilma, and I got into a lab together at school (after some dropping and planning!). She decided she didn’t like the teacher and wanted to switch. I said sure. But we find out we can’t switch without dropping the lab, (classes have already started) only getting 70% of our money back and then enrolling again (paying full price). We can’t afford that. So she says to me “Oh well, we’re in THIS class for a reason…” Hmmm…..ok then! I seem to be in classes “for a reason”. I’m liking this. I feel like something is moving in my life. Finally. The one semester I choose to take off (still need to quit one job) some things start to fall into place. Thank you, God, for whatever you are doing! I can’t wait to see!


I have yet to read Ephesians to night, but it’s getting late. Very late. Today in church the pastor preached chapter 4, which I read along with chapter 3 tonight. I liked what he said. I underlined some verses, but I’ll explain this first.

Pastor explained what real peace was today. He said that while David wrote the 4th Psalm, he was being pursued by Absalom (if you know the story then you know why and how scary that must have been). But still David was able to sleep at night. He was scared of all these dudes coming after him, but he found peace. I need that peace right now, God. I am so angry at so many people right now…give me Your peace. Please.

This chapter in Ephesians was the “exceedingly, ubundantly” thing. But more than that, it was all summed up in verses 14-19. It said that the whole reason Paul was suffering as he wrote was to reach the gentiles so that way they could know of the love of God and simply OF God. So that way we can be who we are supposed to be as His children. I need to sleep now. I may read these again tomorrow. God, help me in EVERYTHING I do tomorrow according to your will. Amen.


“A prayer for guidance”…how I needed this.

So I imagine that David is still being pursued by Absalom. He is asking God to get them for all they’ve done. Starting in verse 4 he starts by saying that no evil dwells with God. From there he goes on to say what God does with offenders. They shall not stand with God, they are undone by their own means, God hates the evil, they are thrust out…the list goes on. I feel like asking God to do this sometimes…I want people to suffer like He said they would for being evil. I hate how people treat me and I want these things to happen. But then I’m just being like “I have God and you don’t so I don’t forgive you and He shall smite thee!” That’s no good…

So I need to look at the other part of this chapter! Amid all this running for his life and fearing his enemies, David takes time to praise God. “For to thee do I pray…” (vers 2). In verse 8 he asks God to lead him in the way of righteousness. Maybe that’s because of all those lovely things that happen to those who don’t…? I noticed something about the end of verse 8. David says, “Make Thy way straight before me”. Not “my way” as in where he’s going physically, but where God wants him to be. Physically and spiritually I imagine. That really stuck out. I need to pay more attention to what God wants me to do then what I have planned and where I want to go and asking Him to bless THAT road. I should walk God’s road…Verses 11 and 12 close the chapter nicely as David ends with saying how God is protection and how He shelters those who are on the right path. Thy path.

Ephesians 4 was a long one. But I think I get it. I had a lot highlighted from when I read it before. A lot to do with not lying, speaking mean words, cussing (get that from verse 29) and to not be deceitful (lying I have a problem with. Not huge lies, but what we humans call white lies…) and to not speak slander and to not live a life style that is immoral. It also puts emphasis on being kind to others (a good example is the closing of the chapter).

In the first part of the chapter though (verses 1-16) talk about how we all (all God’s children) need to work together for good and for His glory and in the way He wants us too. I need to sleep now…sick and tired. God, Help me be more honest. Let no words of slander or falsehoods come out of my mouth. Help me to love all around me and show them You whenever I can. Thank you for all the blessings you have heaped on my today. I love You and I ask these things of you as Your daughter, Amen.


Missed last night cause I watched a movie with Anna, which I thought was in order. She needs my attention too. So Psalm 6 is short too. I guess that King David didn’t have much time for writing while being on the run. But I think I like this one. I like anything in the Bible that starts out with the heading “A cry for mercy” or “a prayer for guidance”. Guess that’s the way I am!

So this Psalm had some great parts and some AMAZING poetry! Man, could David write or what?! But I’ll get to that. From verse 1, I was so into this chapter: “O Lord, do not rebuke me in Thine anger…” I had to stop and wonder “Does He?” I mean, you hear in other places in the bible where God is smiting the wicked (among other people) with “wrath” and “anger”. So…what about me?? Do I get God-anger rained down on me too?

In verse 2 there is a bit that might be a good verse to pray. A while back, Sonni and I talked about praying scripture. I think it’s a good idea. I don’t see the harm in it. Or the good, but oh well. It’s God’s word. If I pray it does that mean He sees me super trying to get into His word? Maybe.

Moving way on to verse 7 is where the down-right, amazing poetry really starts to show in Pslams. David says in verse 7, “My eye has wasted away with grief; it has become old because of my adversaries” (I just looked that word up and it means opponent and challenger. Good to know!). So just look at that poetry!! My eye has wasted away with grief! How horridly beautiful. Shakespeare must have read King David.

I’d like to leave off Psalm 6 with verse 9 as a prayer: “The Lord receives my prayers”…Hear my prayer, God, my prayers of repentance, joy, thankfulness and greed. Amen.

Ephesians 5…behind in it….

“The walk of the believer as God’s dear child”…one of my favorite things!

So there is some stuff in here about married life and all and I don’t want to go too in depth into that cause I don’t feel it’s the time too. I need to stay away from that for a while.

So verse 3 describes what saints ought to not let even be named among them: impurity, greed or any immorality. That’s a little hard core. We being human…HAVE NO EXCUSES! So now I have something to new to try. Yikes. This includes “silly talk” and “course jesting” (which I am famous for…) (verse 4).

Verse 6, above all, make me think of an anti-Christ among other things. “Let no one deceive you” and “the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience”. And verse 12 goes along with verse 3 in that it tells us that to even speak of these things is disgraceful. Easy enough…

I liked verse 16 and 17, of course, because it talks about how evil the days are, but also because I have a tendency to waste time. Big time. All I do is waste it. Then of course, I like verse 18 for more than one reason. Yes, Elise and I want to get drunk together some time, but I hate drunkerds… Like my ex. But Sonni says I can’t hold grudges! Any way…

So I’m not going to go into verses 22-29 except to say this about 29: “for no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ also does the Church, because we are member of His body.” Did you catch that? No one hates their own flesh. They love it. We are the Church—Christ’s body. He loves His flesh too. He loves US like He loves Himself. I know there are verses where it talks about how much God likes Himself and all. It’s a lot. He loves us as much as that. Wow.

The End of that. Next up is Phillipi. Come with me, if you dare, the path I travel is not led by me but by the Unseen One, my All Father.