A Place I Belong -2005

-I came across some of my old stuff and thought I would post them. This was my junior year of high school, 2005-

--

Once, I thought about the world around me.

The sun, the moon.
The earth so sound.

Then there was me.

Someone so lost.
Who couldn't be found.
No place could hold me.

Everywhere I went to was unsound.
I went to so many places.
Covered so much ground.
Yet nothing could keep me.

It came as a surprise one day.
That these words seemed to resound.
"A Place to Belong".

I knew of one place.
To which I felt bound.
A heart so kind and full.
Of a love so unique and sound.
The place I was looking for.
I was there all along...

--

Look Like That: Excerpt

​

Even though I keep moving forward, there is still a part of me that lingers in the darkness of my past. No matter how much I succeed or what I accomplish, I’ll never be good enough because, in my head, she lives even though she’s been gone. 

It’s still there, the words she harmed me with like bloodied rocks and stones bruising and piercing my soul. 

Even in death, she manages to slam my head against the wall of my chest and press until the tears have nowhere else to go but out. 

And I float in that feeling, this curse, this darkness I find comfort in because it has been with me the longest. 

We both know it isn’t healthy, yet we sit, two halves of the same whole who battle back and forth between happy and sad.

Such simple emotions, you’d think, how easy it would be, but it’s not. Even in happiness, I hone in on the sad, and in the sad, in my self-run tragedy, I find its sister's anxiety and depression with worry, fear, and doubt not far on their heels. If I'm anything or nothing at all, I'm never lonely because in them, in the welcoming arms of gloom, I seek shelter in the known. 

Where darkness is, is a home I never want to visit, but it stands with open arms if I should stumble if my footing shall give way and lead me home.

It’s there.

I’m there. 

Wedded Blissful Ignorance

​I feel this kind of way when friends ask me favors. Typically one-sided, the friendship falls, so when I ask for help, it's inconvenient.

So, I stop asking. 

 I set myself up, I watch myself fall, and I understand that the den of solitude I crawl into is, in part, my own making. I've spent years digging myself deeper, burying my own needs, my belief system, and my voice. I push my needs down and wonder why people end up hurting me, but I’m the problem.

I don’t speak up because I’m afraid of being a burden, and then I just burden myself further with half friendships and crippling sadness. 

Even having the best of friends makes us fall deeper upon the one side. We're not supposed to feel this way; this yearning dread during happy times for our friends. 

It's without much effort that I settle myself on the other side of the glass and look in with longing. I press my hand against the glass in hopes of feeling the slightest touch of warmth as they laugh, but I only end up cold and distant. 

I don't speak up. I know I should, but why? If I wasn't a thought before speaking up, what would my voice do to change the views and opinions of others?

I've spent a lifetime on the outside looking in, wanting that openness others had but never fully grasping what it meant to truly be an included friend. I just watch them live, move on, and I linger in the background, silently cheering them on because, deep down, I am happy. 

I'm sad because I was a thought in their brain at one time until I wasn't, and I faded into memories I visit when I need to see a friend. I helped myself fade by tip-toeing out until I was sadly behind the window, hand pressed against the glass, watching them live as I stood still in memories of when I was included. 

Did it all start with the abuse? When I sat on the stoop in my bedroom, hand on the door as I listened to the outside happenings? I learned many things by being quiet and timid, but the greatest thing I learned was to irreversibly hurt myself more than others could hurt me.

I mastered the art of self-harm that didn’t involve cutting my wrists or pinching my skin; I pushed away until I was no longer a thought. I pushed away when I felt I was too much, and I pushed harder until no one wanted me. 

The Observant

I wasn't the smartest kid in school, But I was observant.

I'd watch seemingly ordinary kids play games while I sat on the swings listening to Seal on my bright yellow Walkman. As Kiss From a Rose played through my headphones, I watched as a group played dodgeball off to the left, where the pavement met the grass, where we usually played soccer. The basketball hoop loomed over hard and soft, whereas another smattering of kids played rounds. Another group played foursquare, hopscotch, and jump rope with the plastic beaded ropes we used during PE over to the right of the sandbox where I sat. I would sometimes be there on the swings and not participate because I was the quiet kid. I was always in my head, even when I was chatty, but being chatty was a defense mechanism; I'd make up happy things in my life.

I tried to be normal. 

I wanted to be normal, even though I didn't know what that entailed; I  craved normalcy.

The truth behind my quiet nature, my chatty façade, and the listening to music on a swing and watching others have fun; was that I was lonely. Even on a playground full of kids, I was alone, always in my head, forever hearing the echoes of someone telling me that no one liked me. That the kids who said they were my friends were only sorry for me.

I'd only be invited because everyone else was, too, not because they liked me.

I wasn't smart enough, I wasn't pretty enough, and with every roundabout jab, I truly felt like I wasn't enough.

There were times when I had this fire light up inside me, and I didn't care what the adults told me about myself. Maybe I wasn't bright enough, but I was still me, so that counted for something.

Right?

Then there were the times when I began to doubt myself and my worth and started to realize that maybe they were right. That perhaps I was bugging people instead of them actually liking me.

But then I was back to another turn of shaking off the negativity and putting myself out there.

I would draw, I would read, I would create. I would play sports and learn everything about it. I would lag behind in classwork, mostly because I was bored out of my mind, but if you put me in charge of real-world problem-solving, hell yeah, I was your girl.

I learned I was a hands-on person, so a desk job would never be something I excelled at. The mundane paper pusher life was never meant to be mine until I started writing.

But when I write?

I'm not just at my desk at home, in my studio, at a coffee shop, at the bookstore, or in the car. I'm in New York City sipping coffee in Central Park, watching the joggers jog by while I fall in love again after my husband's death. I'm in Las Vegas trying to crack the code of my father's deception and who might have had my mother killed, and now he's after me. I'm in Atlanta working in homicide, trying to track down the killer I've only seen in my dreams.

I'm living in another world.

And when I was a kid? 

I lived in my head.

I am not the smartest and will always agree with that statement, but I am observant. I am willing to work to achieve something more significant, and damnit, I'm eager to learn.

I'm open to new learning opportunities and will read everything on the subject to overcome the voice in my head telling me I'm not enough.

Deep down, I know that's bullcrap, but I'm still that kid, sitting on the sidelines wanting to be normal. Even though I know I'm much better off being the creative being I've become over the years, there was always that small yearning for inclusion. So with that yearning, I twisted it into my fiction, created friends and families between the lines, and ingrained it in the margins.

In literature, I'll never be alone, my story will be told, and I will forever be full of that sassy shit my younger self seemed to bounce back on that kept pushing me forward and never giving up. 

I may not be the smartest, but I am, and will always be, observant.

WP Book: Look up at the sky.

​I’ve been waiting, craving the cold to furl through this musty heat. Is today the day? I open the door, and a grin creeps up as I watch the fog settle into the trees across the street. I have high hopes as my fingers grasp the knob. 

I move forward with hope and throw open the hurricane glass door with trepidation, only to be met with a Sticky mugginess that has been here since the beginning of time, it feels like. It makes my grin fall flat on its face. 

Today is not the day; the fog is a lie.

My Panic Button is the Only Thing Working

   Inside my brain:

   I'm panicked. Anxious. Worried.... Off. 

   I sometimes get this way and don't have an exact word for the feeling, but I needlessly feel doomed. My life is relatively calm, I don't work late or at home anymore, and I have actual free time to write. My financials are fine, my work is done up until next week, and nothing noteworthy or mentionable happened.

  I know, deep down, that the next book needs to have a strict outline because I'm floundering. But once I sit down, I stare at my cursor, and all I do is comb through my chapters and wonder what I'm doing. I have several ideas, I've written half an outline on a few of them when I can't think up anything for my current book, and the thing is...
It's a few chapters short of a full-ass book. I literally have an entire book. 
I hit my word mark already, but it's climbing a bit from a shorter novel to an actual story with deeper meaning. I'm excited, don't get me wrong, but there's something inside me that fights with whether or not. I should be finished with it now or be patient. 
Part of me is like, look here, you literally started this book in what, March? Thanks to Insta, it says April, I got the wild hair to write my almost done book. I've been writing this for going on six months. In the grand scheme of things, I should be amazed that I have written 70,000+ words. Last year I started and am somewhat finished with my first book, which comes in at 120,000 words, and I have three other partial stories on the back burner that I add notes to every now and then.
I have, in fact, done something amazing.
It's telling myself I'm on the right track, that my brain doesn't get. I'm getting there. The opportunities are there; I've submitted two of my works, and I'm still trudging along in the literature world by reading when I'm not writing, or when I'm not doing that, I'm watching anything I can watch on TV that's new.
   Even though half of it is shite and makes me want to write better content. I at least have compiled a list of shit I will not be writing about.

  While watching the Amazon Prime show called Authors Anonymous, one of the characters said something quite profound to me that I understood completely. Kucko's character tells another that they're paying attention too much; their brain is every which way but where it should be: Writing.

  I'm thinking about work, it's wedding season. I'm thinking about getting ahead of my line; I'm thinking about taking on extra dresses to recoup our savings. I'm thinking about writing, not writing, my current book, my past book, what I'm doing right, and what I'm doing wrong.
What other people are doing right and wrong.
I'm reading, blogging, Instagramming...

  I'm also trying to have a life with my husband, be a cat mom, be somewhat social with friends, and what have you. I couldn't imagine having actual children. I have so much on my plate that when I go to sit down and start typing, I can't.

  Because my brain is pulled a million and one ways, and no matter how much time I set aside to try and inspire myself to write, I either go watch a movie, read a book, or take a nap because my brain is done for the day.

  
   

Review: The Unbalanced Equation

The Unbalanced Equation
By H.L.Mcfarlane

Macfarlane Lantern Publishing


Instagram recap:

This book starts with the sweetest anime meet-cute worthy of any nerdy girl who has been in similar situations. 

EX: My own relationship: Sailor Moon and Pride & Prejudice. 

Not only does Tom save Liz from mansplaining nerds, but he also bests them with his own knowledge, then sweeps her off her pretty little feet. Be still, my nerdy heart. 

Until orange juice wrecks the night. 

I love the drama that ensues years later and captures these two in a cluster most epic with family, friends, and each other: the bar, the fire, the close quarters, the love of single parents, the eviction, to the moving in with each other out of pure desperation…

It's glorious how a simple twist of fate can change everything, especially when fate is a toddler and she keeps spinning. 

Tom: Acts tough, but he's a mama's boy, has a soft side under his polished exterior, an Arsehole, but a lovable arsehole with a kind soul. 

Liz: Fakes being tough to avoid confrontation, pain in the arse, and stubborn but is kind, lovable, and a daddy's girl. Wants to feel deserving of love but is afraid of being hurt. 

_____________

So, I have this habit of binge-reading a book if it's REALLY good and captures me body and soul. I will HAVE to read the whole thing, or I'll be absolutely useless at work, and the boss gets pissed off at me (it's me, I'm the boss. Yes, I piss myself off.)

Of course, I did this on a Sunday when I had to be to work the next day because I have zero self-control. Yes, I'm trying to work on it; no it's not really working as I start to evolve into the bookish woman I was meant to be in high school. 

Thanks to Netgalley, I'm heading off in a different direction and trying my hand at truthful, information-packed, reviews I would like to have before reading books. In the Facebook group, Bitchy Bookworms, I've learned much about peer reviews and how to take them lightly. What is someone else cup of tea may not necessarily be mine.

I love real-life happenings, fiction but not fantasy like I'm stepping into the MC's shoes and living vicariously through her. 

That's what I found in The Unbalanced Equation, real-life happenstance, with a lot, and I mean a lot, of real-world drama and a ton of plot twists in just a few short chapters.
I loved it; it wasn't cheesy, I could follow it very well, and I got enamored with how well she wrote the book. I enjoyed the characters, the anime references, the cosplay funnies and the truth behind being a female cosplayer.
I know, I am one of them, but I only dabble, I mostly create cosplay costumes for others now since wearing wigs pisses me off. 
And don't get me started on wearing a leotard and needing to pee.

I. Get. It. 

I also felt the nerdy girl being nerdsplained part to my core. I had an argument with not only my husband, but all his friends during The Last Jedi. I had seen it twice, read the book, and did some deep digging to be able to have that argument.
I was the only woman.
I enjoyed it. 

On that note, I lift my glass of Rose' to the beautiful story this fine woman has brought forth on rainy Scottish days. As we relish in the joy that we have one sunny day in over a month. 

Yay Florida. 

Review: Overkill by Sandra Brown

My brain was furiously working on my blog post in my dreams a few nights ago. 

I flew through 150 pages without blinking. I could see everything. Brown's writing has always drawn me in and captured my mind. Not only in its movie-quality explanations but in how it lets my mind run wild by drawing images with the descriptions.
It took me 24 hours to read and then a few more to process because this was, somehow, a different kind of book for me than her others.

I spend Christmas/Thanksgiving in the Blue Ridge Mountains, so the cabin in North Carolina made me long for that peace. Zack's character reminded me of my culinary friend Kevin, who also lived on the side of a mountain, and I loved how at ease he looked. How he explained his small town intricacies, the winter months when people bid on the last snow shovel or what time was best for the all-you-could-eat pizza place. I remember those times, and reading about this character who 'ran away' into the peacefulness of the mountains made me long to be there myself.
You kind of forgive and forget when you're encompassed in such a serene place. Brown captured that for me.
That's what Zack wanted. Even though he was the opposite, he would protect that by putting on an asshole vibe.
 

It was an astounding story, and following several characters through the pages gave a nice 360 view of the story as a whole.

At the start, you see Eban, the sociopathic villain, and his two henchmen, Theo and Cal, making pretty big mistakes. One mistake is the worst of them all, and throughout the story, you get to see the impact on each person.
Every one of them.

Then you see the match between Zack and Kate based on this twist of fate, the differences, the commonplaces. What each has to offer the other in defiance of social norms.

 

I had read a few reviews for the book after I had read it because I was stuck overthinking a few things, but I have to say: Where did all the good reviewers go? The one I read that made me cringe used a lot of LOLs and complained about how spicy the book was. A true fan knows there's a high spice level in all the books she wrote that preceded Overkill. This one was surprisingly mild in comparison.
Yeesh, first-timers.

I learned the art of spice from Sandra Brown! She writes the romance scenes tastefully, so I more or less threw out that particular GoodReads review and decided to write my own.

I realized that this book took a little time to settle with me after I read it. I had a few moments of introspection about how I felt this book was so much different from Brown's last few, like Thick As Thieves or Outfox.

I think that was the point of this book.

Then as it settled in, I dreamt about it and realized that during 2020, we all kind of went into a weird survival mode. We soul searched. That's what she was doing with this book, I feel.
I saw that in this book because Zack was introspective, too; he was a different kind of male lead that she had crafted before; this one, to me, felt like he was an adult. The other male leads were always very secretive about feelings, showing weakness, etc. The bad boys were secret soft boys with a stern but candy coating.

Then there was Zack. At first, he was kind of an asshole regarding things that mattered: his privacy, his property, and his livelihood. He was protective of his ex-wife and even her parents. Then later protective over Kate.
There was an air of the older books in there, but it was completely new to me. Having a character who acted mature, a little sarcastic of course, and definitely a little frisky, but he was a new and I loved it. But he was adult protective, versus throwing everything to the wild and hoping for the best; protective.

I started reading Sandra Brown's books my last year of middle school; I was 14, while everyone else was reading Harry Potter and Holes. I was never one to jump on the bandwagon, so I picked out three books from the thrift store and wound up with my first Sandra Brown, Envy.
Homegirl from GoodReads has no idea what spicy is if Overkill was her first.

My old ass soul has brought me here, being an avid Sandra Brown reader and fan at the ripe age of 33.

So, with every fiber of my being, I have to say I LOVED every bit of this new book.
I can't wait for the next one to come out!

Until then, I'm painstakingly editing my novels, waiting for my preordered books to roll in since I've read almost everything in my to-be-read pile. 

Readers Guide: People We Meet On Vacation

 

  I believe that, much like people, books come into our lives at just the right moments.

  People We Meet On Vacation was one of those for me, and Emily Henry knows how to write sentiment just right. We meet Poppy and Alex in, what we come to find out, is an ordinary bit of banter between them while on vacation.

  Alex is cool and calm; he rather read a book than socialize. Everything about him is controlled.
  Poppy is the opposite; where he is controlled, she is chaos. She is the key that unlocks an Alex only she can see, and their dynamic works for both of them. She is Vintage, whereas he is Kakhi; she's sunshine, while he is moody.

  Discussion Questions Number 1
When they first meet, Alex and Poppy are immediately put off by each other. Have you ever made a friend after a bad first impression?

  As I read, I thought back on when I met Andrew (my best friend and second husband), and it was a similar story, but ours started at our mutual best friend's college graduation. I thought I was meeting his cousin again, but when I saw my husband's face above where Jon's dad pointed him out, I was curious.
  I hadn't met this one.
  At the time, I didn't overthink it. Still, I remember him sitting across from me at one point at the TCBY, then eventually sitting next to me on this obnoxiously bright orange plastic sofa where we were both turned inwards, talking with one another. We had a lot in common, it was easy to talk to him, and his smile and laugh were infectious.

  In this case, I was Alex. My husband, before he was my husband, was Poppy. He was the only person, in a very long time, who actually talked to me. I felt seen.

  Discussion Questions Number 2
What's something you do on vacation that you're unlikely to do in your daily life? Is there an unquestionable comfort in anonymity?

  On vacation, we try to do new things, even if that means eating at a new restaurant (we are foodies) or try a new experience. Like, our last trip to Atlanta for book research, I threw us into many new experiences, and my hubs enjoyed himself, much like Alex, once he relaxed. We bar hopped, got lost downtown, found a random Pho place we ate at twice, and rode Bird scooters around town.
  We love the anonymity of vacations. It's the thought of being out of our norm, doing new things, things we usually don't do, and chating and enjoying the people we meet along the way. We've made lasting friendships that way, but we mostly collected stories and memories.


  Discussion Questions Number 3
Have you ever met a goal and found that your reaction wasn't quite what you expected?

  I've met a few, expecting to feel accomplished, excited, and happy. The happiness of meeting the goal lasted, but not as long as I would have thought. It took being in my 30s to understand that I was holding my excitement out for others, and they weren't as happy for me as I was for myself. Others were my parents and a few friends; I realized that if I kept expecting others to be proud of me, I wouldn't ever be proud of myself. It was the people-pleasing aspect of my life that I've learned needed to be pointed to myself, and making me happy.

  Discussion Questions Number 4
What is your worst vacation memory? Your best?


  I have always loved adventures, the planned, the unplanned; the more unplanned, the better. Our spontaneous and off-the-cusp vacations followed the same suit as Alex and Poppy's 'budget-friendly' vacations. My hubs had lost his Airbnb privileges because of the exciting places he has sent us, but at the same time, it made us cry with laughter.
  Our last budget-friendly trip was to Gatlinburg, TN, and we stayed at the local Comfort Inn. It was ghastly. Once we turned into the parking lot, my husband's face fell; he quickly got on his phone, looked at the pictures, and kept looking up and down while I watched him sleepily. At that point I think I had two hours of sleep the last 38 hours and I was cool with throwing down a drop cloth so I could sleep.
  Once married, we switched modes back and forth; on this trip, I was Poppy, and he was Alex. He was in the bargaining stage of vacation grief as I looked on the App for other places available around town.
  "No, no, no, this is not the same hotel."
  Nothing was affordable without spending $1000+, of course.

  In an hour and a half, we watched three different floors open up doors and have a conversation out front with neighboring rooms, another three had dogs tied to the outside bars, trash everywhere; a random car had evem pulled up, and we watched the most exciting display I had ever seen in person.
  We watched as a lady walked from the car to the room with her pants around her ankles.
  Instantly, we knew we had messed up.

 

  Discussion Questions Number 5
Poppy is going through professional burnout. Have you ever experienced that kind of fatigue? How did you get through it?

  I've become quite adept at the fine art of professional burnout, mostly because I've been chasing a dream through what I thought I wanted. I've been chasing the high of writing for over 18 years, and it took gathering these experiences to realize where I'm supposed to be. I look at burnout like a chapter ending, so I don't just call it quits right then and there; I wait until I find the one thing I haven't done yet and try my hand at it.
  In these experiences, I find my passion in the written word. So I write. 

  Discussion Questions Number 6
Which vacation of Alex and Poppy's would you most want to take? Which would you least want to take?

  Tuscany, hands down. The least likely is Palm Springs since I lived in the Desert. It's hot as hell, and the AC bit is so on point even though I was hot just thinking about it. 

  Discussion Questions Number 7
Having grown up in a small town, Poppy struggles to break free of her reputation—or at least struggles to believe she can do so. When have you felt misunderstood, and how did you get past it?

  When I lived in Las Vegas, I had to live under the guise of a dutiful daughter, a Christian school student, and altogether be the good girl everyone thought I was. When we moved to Pensacola, I started to come into my own weird little personality. Into the free spirit I really am. Truthfully, up until 2020, I felt misunderstood. Still, during that year, I realised that others opinions of me didn't mean diddily. I began to write more, read again, and do the things that made me truly happy. 

  Discussion Questions Number 8
Why do you think it takes Poppy and Alex so long to admit their feelings to each other?

I think it's the same way it took me a while to admit that I liked my hubs more than just friends. After so many failed relationships, you stop believing in yourself. After my ex wore me down so much, in those days that I asked for a divorce and the onslaught of phone calls, mean Facebook posts, and everything else that came with that time. Telling Andrew that I liked him was the least scary out of all the turmoil in my life.
It's the fear of the unknown that holds us back.

Discussion Questions Number 9
Rachel has a lot to say about contentment versus purpose. In your own life, do you prize one above the other? Are these ideas mutually exclusive, or can you have both?

  I believe we want both, sometimes all at once, sometimes separate. I know I strive for purpose; I've worked very hard since my first job at Target to get to where I am today. Owning a business. Yet, I'm still not content to be here, making great money; I run my own calendar, I can take a whole month off if I like and not fear the loss of a paycheck.
  But, I've always wanted to be a writer. I don't think I could be content until I'm there. Time can only tell!

  Discussion Questions Number 10
Do you think Poppy and Alex are going to make it?

  Without a doubt.

 

Link to Discussion Questions: People We Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry