A Secret World

There is a place I am longing to be, and although it is fairly new to me, I seem to know it well. I discovered it on accident, as I was searching for something or someone to believe in. While doing that, I was only barely aware of my surroundings. I realized upon finding this spot that I was also trying to escape something. It is still unclear if I have succeeded in evading whatever I was trying to get away from. This place is hard to get to but kind of difficult to leave once I find it. I never meant for it to be what I have made it, I never wanted it to become what it is.  My Obsession.

I once tried to explain this place and promptly realized I have no words. I consider myself relatively coherent and at times mildly eloquent. I rarely find myself speechless or searching for the correct words to describe my surroundings. The day I tried to explain this place to Her,  I could not. When I was approached by Him, I once more tried to describe it. When They had me explain it, They could not understand and tried to turn it into something else entirely.  I have a theory, about why this place is so complicated to explain and how it represents different things to different people but,  I am not here to discuss my theories.

I have altered things in this place and I am not sure who it belongs to, so I am afraid I am trespassing. I know I should not linger or escape to this place as often as I do, but I find I actually miss it when I am away. I know I live in a place that demands I remain ever vigilant and in the moment, but especially lately, I am mentally wandering to this highly desired locale, fully aware I am not there, yet unable to pull myself out of waking daydreams; as if in a trance and no longer in control of myself or mind.

Its getting harder to focus on other things, people, or living in the moment. Everything in me wants to go. Leave everything and everyone behind and get lost in the place I am desperately wanting to be.

Advertisement

No More Promises

It’s been well over a year since my last post, and for any and all that still follow this or stumble upon it-

I know… I said I would be better about posting. I made promises to try to be consistent and engaged in a blogging community that has allowed my creative freedoms to run wild for many moons.

I am sorry. I lied.  Again.  BUT… sorry.

I came back. If you can forgive me as I am slowly learning to forgive myself this year, we should be alright. If not, it is quite alright. I am also learning how to not need the approval of others this year, so it will still be alright.

That being said, allow me to make it up to you by telling you a story.

Once upon a time, in a land seemingly familiar, a mildly content humanoid tried to find a purpose to everything. The humanoid, H2-Uh Oh, as we shall call it, did not do much one would consider exciting or exceptional. H2-Uh Oh was not an overly skilled writer, seen as successfully artistic by most accounts, nor was this humanoid much more than a mouth-breathing, 20 plus something bone bag,  pretending its short existence on a blue and green orb had a semblance of meaning.

Believing it’s purpose for being placed on this strange spinning sphere was to chronicle it’s weekly on-goings to strangers, also comfortable enough to live and die behind a screen, H2-Uh Oh began creating content on a site called WordPress.com.

This humanoid was not exceptional in personality or look, nor was the content created particularly exceptional, but it did serve a purpose. Despite the lack of initial exception in regards to content, it was a pleasant enough experience, an assessment agreed upon by most who had stumbled across it,  there was something naïve and ultimately honest about it. As nice and generally safe as it was, it was more than that to the humanoid who created it.

It was an affirmation of purpose.

The H2-Uh Oh was certain that this new found freedom to post the innermost thoughts and desires was a way to escape having to be a part of the world it was never asked to join. By writing about the things it felt, lived, and saw, it could harmlessly leave things on a page and ultimately allow the humanoid to progress as a person, no longer bound by the cage of emotions so readily released to an anonymous audience. If the humanoid continually blogged,  kept to a schedule, reliably submitting its’ every thought, it would be able to move on and maybe become something, or someone of value. In the mind of the humanoid, if it could create content engaging enough, real enough, with just the right amount of humor and sarcasm, this humanoid could end up having a following. For reasons, it never dared to speak aloud, having a following meant everything to H2-Uh Oh. It meant readers, a potential fan base that could grow, offer praise, and as needed, offer feedback. A steady group of  humanoids who already believed in H2-Uh Oh enough that it might start believing in itself.

A few years of  inconsistent posts and thoughts passed, and one day H2-Uh Oh realized something. H2-Uh Oh was okay not being certain of its purpose. This humanoid enjoyed writing,  and posting, and engaging with faceless names who occasionally left behind comments before disappearing into the dark and mysterious sea of data. It learned it was okay to like something and not do it everyday, that it was okay to not post for days, months, or even years at a time. This brought a little bit of peace to the Humanoid, so much so that it stopped writing so it could try living.  The humanoid disappeared over time, enough so that she became a human. She is doing alright, she writes when she feels like it, and pursues other interests when she doesn’t.

Thanks to anyone who stumbles across my stuff, new or old. I make no promises. I will post if I have something to say, and I feel so much better not stressing over making deadlines we all know I won’t keep anyway.

 

 

Happy Thursday

Hello friends, family, and fair fine folks! Whether you be purposefully or playfully passing by, thank you and welcome to my blog. I admit, often, I do not keep up with it as I would like, but I do appreciate your stopping by on this dark, warm, and interestingly muggy Thursday morning. I hope this post finds you well, and mosquito free. I am working on a short compilation of children’s poetry, and piecing together a potential autobiography. I was experiencing a little bit of a writing block for where and I guess, how to continue with the biography, when this little thing popped into my brain. Hope you like it, as always, Feed back is encouraged.

Moments of inspiration rise, and my heart then takes me by surprise.

Out of it flowing from somewhere deep, come words across the screen they creep.

As I outwardly type they from within, recreate the world I live in.

I see, as my secrets all reveal, wounds I pick at start to heal.

I feel inside burdens lift off my chest, and outwardly I now may find rest.

As I start to inwardly let go, the outside benefits from what was stored below.

The demons now may sleep and die, as I allow myself to feel, to hurt, to cry.

This is my written therapy, my own unspoken lock and key, the only way that I can free, unleash the best of who I can be.

 

**I am finding it difficult to talk about myself, and my family. Am I the only one out there in writer/blog/internet land who is greatly struggling to talk about themselves, or mildly failing at creating an autobiography?  Sorry for the random ramblings of a raving (w)riter, Here is the little bit of brain goo that popped into my head space.**

Thank you again for stopping by and have an amazing day everyone.

 

What Christianity is Not

Do the prayers of someone like me count to someone like you?
Or do I need to be someone with so much less to prove?

Have I reached a point where my pleas and cries
fall numbly upon your ear?
Have I crossed a bridge that defies
your truths, its me you no longer hear

Broken but deaf to those on “my side” of town
Am I so long gone from you and just cast down
You preach for hours on end
about how we are supposed to spend
Each and every waking moment
but Im here cast as your opponent
though we preach the same thing
about truth and light
it seems your screaming
always ready to start a fight
you seem to want to punish all who defy
instead seeking to understand the why
You’d rather persucute then let people be
exactly as they were meant to be. Free.
A gift is meant to have no cost
a free token of peace and goodwill
You would rather condemn and damn the lost
then allow them a saving grace that even still

After all this time is meant to be free
but slathered in your hypocrisy
who would dare accept a token
bathed in toxic judgements unspoken
do you not see what you have undone
by your show, no lives were won

You do good works but your heart is dead
Faith maybe there but love is not
Though good things may come out of your head
Where is the love you were also taught?

Forgiven soon Forgotten

Dear Glinda,

I need to know what you intended?
What animosity destroyed is at last mended.
The life and love lost as we grew proud,
brings us to this point as fate allowed.
For you, either become who you were meant to be
or remain true to them in blind slavery.
I cannot and will not become a slave to Oz,
I must fight for my own cause.
I know where I stand and what I must do,
and I hope it means you are escaping too.
If this is goodbye then let it be understood
That this dear Glinda, is goodbye for good.

Thoughts in the PM though it feels like AM to me…

I have to wake up and be productive. It was a long night, a restless, uncomfortable, sleep just is not going to happen til’ sunrise, kind of night. I am finding words, speaking them specifically,  difficult today.  I think I am a natural at pointing and guttural noises in regards to communication with the roommates today. Internally, I am battling the demon of sloth. He thinks I should remain on the couch and do nothing until I have to leave for work this evening, but productive me is mildly set on moving the rest of my stuff out of my old apartment before work.  Ugh. I know what I must do. Eat. Watch an episode of Charmed. Clean up. Move things. Get ready for work. Die internally as retail is not my calling, though for now it is my occupation. Ready, Set, Here I… Oh. Sleepy Katie. Stay.

 

Writer’s Block

A lot today is on my mind,

though I search for words to say.

Hidden in these blanks may I find,

the correct medium in which to portray,

the rise and fall of dread and fashion

in times wrought with change.

Documenting loss, joy, life, and passion,

as plans and the cosmos rearrange.

To express the moments of life so swell,

and when it’s of course, unfair,

is what I long to artistically convey,

yet at this screen I stare.

 

Nearly 2 years Later

Hello to whomever still may follow and to those who stumble by. If I had waited til August it would be an official 2 years since I last blogged. Since I cannot allow that, I say again, hello. I fell off the face of the world only to completely lose myself, find kidney stones, what I sincerely hope is not love, a few new and interesting home type settings and an occupation completely foreign to me. I would like to try blogging again. As much as I appreciate all of you who read this, I must once again reiterate the self-help aspect of this blog, it helps me to be, feel, and do better. I have missed a lot of this side of me. I want to create again. Here’s hoping I can remain dedicated to this and become a little less of a work-a-holic, constantly stressed out, too busy to do something I love, artistically suppressed cog in the retail machine… Thanks for stopping to read and here’s hoping!

Here I go… Again.

I am really not good at blogging and staying super busy. Its been an insane summer. Almost ready to completely clean out this house and move to the new one with the kids, their parents, and the growing little one we are all looking forward to meeting in March/April. Being a live-in nanny is pretty great and it has been a wonderful journey. I look forward to what this next chapter has in store for us and I hope I have a little more time to blog, but we shall see.

On the writing front, I did a bit of editing last week, and the week before I found myself with a damaged computer power cord, a few hours on my hands, no kids to watch, and a large notebook with several fun pens. I wrote a lot. I liked a few things, edited a few other things and scrapped the stuff that made me question my knowledge of the English language and general punctuation. Yes, some of it was actually that bad. There was a piece I, for the most part liked and it sort of pulled me from the writer’s block I was previously experiencing.  I wrote it knowing writer’s block can send me spiraling down into a deep dark hole, that only intensifies the more depressing attributes of my personality. I have come to understand that being able to write really is better for me, than any anti-depressant I have ever tried.

For your written pleasure and more importantly, my own, I present,

Always Keep Fighting.

I once dreamed long ago, that an artist I’d be
someone who makes beauty for the world to see.
The ink in my pen is the paint of my choice,
bringing pictures to life with my written voice.
Sculpting with lines of lyrical clay
the words come alive, soon to be on display.
In many a home, as well as in stores on a shelf,
masterpeices of poetry, a gift to the world from myself.

Alas, it seems this is not so.
Truthfully, as far as inspirations go,
my muse has gone as has my will to try.
I cannot carry on, how would I get by?
Where once I assumed mastery and skill,
I accept defeat and this broken will.

I lied. That last stanza, though it often feels true,
only reassures my faith in what I must never do.
I will NEVER give up, until my last breath I’ll always be writing
I believe in myself, a purpose, and will Always Keep Fighting.

Wow its been too long

Howdy to all who stumble across this or enjoy reading my blog! It has been way to long. Things kind of went crazy around here. We are getting ready to move soon! End of the summer means big changes in these parts, less campers for the off season, finding a new job and car for me as the nanny gig ends in September for my current family, and of course packing all the things to move to a nice little place still slightly middle of nowhere but less middle of nowhere than I have been lately!!!

I am not writing as much as I would like but I hope to start that back up soon. I’m curious, do you ever just get to the point where you don’t really know what you really want to say? Where you feel like you’ve said and screamed all you can and you look back where it’s gotten you and wonder what now? I’m not sure if this is a common thing but it’s where I am at. I have read through previous works and am attempting to edit and so far, I  feel like I am going nowhere, like I have hit so many dead ends that there must not be anything left in me. If anyone else feels or has felt like this advice is always welcomed and encouraged.

In these moments, though I realize it’s imperative I tune out the negative thoughts,it really can be a challenge to keep going and keep my focus on the work. I have to constantly remember why I  write. It is not because of where it has gotten me, not because of loyal fans, not because of anything external. It is for nothing and no one else. Writing is what I love to do, it is how I explain the world around me, and it is how I know how to speak when I do not know what to say.

All this aside, I am still trying to figure out what’s left to say. So the question stands to anyone who may know of answers, what do you say and how do you say it, if you are unsure of what is left to say? What draws you out of writer’s block?  When all your works start to look and feel the same, where do find your new voice?  What inspires you to stay true to what is truly you but in a new and challenging way?

Have an awesome evening, I look forward to responses if there are some.