Nothing really describes it...

I've discovered something about myself today...for those of you who really know me and know what I've been going through these past two years and the life I had prior to that, this will probably make sense. For others, you may judge me on words alone but tonight I can't worry about that. I feel as if my insides are burning, no bursting. I need to get this out. Pour into the universe and hope that he or she will take it away...far from me and drop it into the deepest of holes. I for the better part of twenty years have been spoiled. I had that story book romance...that prince charming. A man that adored me and my every move. A man that only saw...me. Never once did I see him look at another woman when we were together, nor did he ever tell me he watched tennis for the model/tennis pro or women's volley ball because they slapped each other on the ass. I had...bliss. Now I know what you're thinking...ignorance is bliss. But in this case I'm speaking the truth. And there are many witnesses to attest that this isn't just my perception. Granted things happened due to chemicals and genes inherited, but the truth remains that for twenty or so years it was...what others dream of. I've been spoiled by a level of respect or at least what I call respect, and I'm not sure how to process what I'm told is the "normal" male brain. I fear this will be my restraint that holds me back from realizing any other true relationship in my life. I can't filter the thought process that thinks it's okay to blurt out such things and assume I should be perfectly fine with it. Nor am I anyone's teacher. At the age of fifty and two kids I think I've earned the right to have a partner...not a student. I am also learning that loving someone, no matter how true, can also be hindered by things that you just can't get past. But people shouldn't have to change to suit you...nor should you mold them. They are who they are and it is up to you whether you can accept those things and over look them or if you become consumed by them. I'm not sure which one I am ready to accept but I do know that sometimes wanting something and needing it can be a very fine line. It's just knowing which one to lean towards...and when to to turn away.

Just another day...

Today is one of the most exciting and perplexing days that I can remember...The Dusk Chronicles is available in print and I've been waiting for months holding my patience together with Elmer's glue and chewing gum. The feeling of seeing it finally available on Amazon is a bit overwhelming. I would like to enjoy this day to the fullest. Basking in the glow of seeing my story become available for everyone to have the capability of holding it in their hands, turning the pages and reading as the story unfolds. Now I realize when it was only available in e book form they could ideally do the same thing. But there is something about holding the pages in your hands and running your fingers over the cover...okay I admit it, when it comes to books I'm still a little old fashioned.I want to be able to completely enjoy this moment...but I can't. Other things going on in my life seem to be clouding the sunshine. Not enough to rain on my parade but rather just enough to cast a shadow. I feel as if I am still in a suspended state lately. I know where I want to go and with a certain amount of surety where it is I'm headed and most things seem to be pointed in that direction. However, there are forces that I have no control over that are slowing things to a pace that my less than stellar patience can accept.I'm the kind of person that if I have a task in front of me I tackle it and get it over with. Then I let out a sigh of relief reflecting on my accomplishments. Unfortunately not everyone around me sees things the way and I do. The result is time lost, tasks left for another day and my life in limbo. I am in this place of "stuck" because the control I wish I had is not for me to hold but them. I do push through each day waiting and going on with my daily routine but I can't help but feel the suffocation of moving in place. I want to scream...but I don't. I take a deep breath, hope this will be the day and everything will work out.After all what someone close to me always says...it is what it is.

Walls

It's funny how many times I've been told that I am naive. I've never really thought of myself that way but okay...I like to think that I see the better in most people. I expect that given the opportunity, most of us take the high road. Even when it may be the road less traveled, a bit bumpier or maybe put ourselves in a place that might make us feel vulnerable...I'd like to think we choose with our hearts and not our heads. I said I'd like too...but I realize that reality has a way of creeping in and that's not always the case. I know that letting go, baring our soul and being naked...truly naked, is difficult and painful sometimes. Walls go up and one by one you have a fortress. But sometimes on very rare occasions there's a door...and even though it's scary and you feel like your being exposed for all the world to see, you walk through it. And then one by one, the walls fall. And what is left is just you. I don't know maybe I am naive. But maybe...just maybe, I'm just full of hope.

A birthday to remember...

Yesterday was my 50th birthday.It's funny, so much anticipation behind so many events that make up our lives and then in the blink of an eye...they're over. I had been waiting for weeks for the BIG DAY. This was how everyone was referring to the day that marked my half century existence on this planet. A half a century...doesn't that sound monumental? But it's funny, it was everything but.It wasn't that I had an issue with turning 50, I didn't. I've never been one to dwell on age. I figure if you're lucky enough to get out of bed in the morning, then each day you do should be considered a minor victory. So I have yet to experience the panic...I've had older friends tell me it would happen so I've been waiting. Thirty...forty and now fifty. Nope...no big epiphany about growing older. I've pretty much been aware of my mortality for a long time so it's no big news flash. For me it was more about the kind of birthday it was. I had for years envisioned turning 50 with my husband by my side. Maybe we would take a trip together or have a huge party with our family and friends or maybe a quiet dinner together. Whatever the plan, it would be with the person that had been with me through the years that had past to get me to the day. But as anyone who follows my blog would know...that wasn't the case. And I found myself reliving the events of the past two years over again. The sadness, loneliness and self doubt. Could I have changed it? Maybe if I had only saw the signs sooner...would it had made a difference?

I had been eying a fossil watch for a couple of weeks in a magazine add and decided to go check it out.It seemed like a nice gift I might want to buy myself to mark the day in my own way. As I drove to the store, I was listening to my new Adel CD that the kids had gotten me for Christmas. It was probably not the best of choices, because it just succeeded in adding to the darkness now growing inside. I walked up to the store and sat at a bench that was strategically placed in front. I called a close friend. He has been by my side consistently for the past month and a half and although he lives out of state, he has succeeded in being not only my crutch but my rock. As we were talking and I poured out my...confusion, it occurred to me no matter what anyone said that day, it wouldn't be enough. I chose to wallow. For whatever reasons, I had chosen to fill myself up to the brim in self pity. I cut him off mid sentence and hung up. Somehow...I knew he would understand.I walked into Fossil and bought the watch. I continued on with my day embracing all that was dark and paralyzing. I was going over a friends house that night, joined with my cousin/sister/confident/publicist/one woman rally team/and possibly the closest friend I have ever had...Sarah. So I put on my big girl shoes and drove over.On the way I called Sarah because I needed to talk...again. It wasn't enough that I would see her at our mutual friends, I needed reassurance...now. Honestly, I don't know how she hasn't set her phone to mute when she sees my number. Once again, she succeeded in calming the ever growing darkness that by now had consumed almost every part of me. When I got there, we toasted and drank wine...lots of wine. We talked it out and I began to feel...lighter. I started to realize that even though the day wasn't what I had been used to in the past, it had been wonderful and I hadn't even noticed. I got up out of bed that morning...remember...minor victory. I had the love of all my friends and family throughout the day, posting, calling and texting birthday wishes. I was fortunate enough to go and buy myself the watch I had been eying and had the luxury of going wherever I pleased during the day's journey. I had a friend, who in all his wisdom and support had been understanding when I called later to apologize for ending our conversation so abruptly and it hit me like a load of bricks falling on my head. There was no reason for me to feel sad, I had no right. I had everything...I just refused to see it. I feel good today and I have decided with this minor victory, that I would go and have my new watch engraved. On the back I am going to put a phrase that has been repeated by my mom many times over the years...And this too shall pass.

Happy Birthday to me and thank you to all of you for being my light and the reasons I remember.

Golden no more...

A few days ago there was a story on MSN about a couple who had been married for 72 years and died together. They had been in a car accident and when in intensive care in the hospital, held hands and passed away. I always thought that this would be who we were as a couple. I used to say to my husband, let's make a pact that when we're both in our 90's and have lived a full life we will hold hands, fall asleep and then leave...together. Over the years it had become our way of dealing with growing old together and adding to the bond that was already there. As I read the story, I found myself mourning once again for the scenario that will never be. I used to think it somewhat special that we could possibly celebrate our 75th anniversary together. Being five years apart and marrying at such a young age, it wasn't without reason. It's a romantic notion I know, but one I could seek solace in. The mere thought that you could spend most of your time on this earth with the one person you truly love was not only comforting but a gift. So many people come and go in our lives, to have that constant would be the rock from which all else was built upon. But that life is not to be. Not to say that I will never find love again, I hope that one day I might. But it is the realization that the romantic notion of an eighteen year old girl, was just that...a romantic notion. It is the last bit of my girlish dreams that believed there could be a love greater than no other and no one could ever take it away, not even death. That a man could be so much a part of your soul that you could become as one whole to two separate parts and he would be there for you and you him throughout all adversities. They say the heart wants what the heart wants and if that's true, than it is also equally determined when it no longer yearns. And that is a lesson that has come much further in my life than I would have liked. I have had many years of feeling loved and completely treasured, but the pain of the after glow of what has happened to my husband is so great, I dare say I would trade them to erase them. This week a part of me was lost forever, the young girl inside has had a cold dose of life and to be quite honest, one lesson I would of rather have avoided.

Peace...

You know it's funny, one of the reasons my "husband" says he's unhappy is because we don't talk anymore. Tonight I cooked dinner, he had bought the groceries, and we sat while he talked about his day. He vented about the injustices, the idiots and the situations that are ever growing. I sat, the captive audience listening to every word and engaging with my opinion, questions and occasional look of surprise. Then it was my turn. He asked about my day at work and as I answered, I saw it. The far away look of disinterest I usually see on his face every time I try to tell him something about me. I was reduced to hearing his one word answers for interaction and the occasional nod of the head. After my one sided attempt ot share my day, he asked me how come when I moved out last year he bought me new furniture, and now he has to settle this year on his own. My response was that he had made the choice and he should deal with the consequences.I am suffering everyday, why should I have to bear any added misery and have to worry about my surroundings, I won't do it, not again. His response was a very sarcastic,"Oh yeah, your suffering." I'm sure the room shook by the pounding of my jaw hitting the floor. I knew this man had changed, but I had no idea he had lost his senses as well. I've lived everyday the past four months with a man who states he is no longer in love with me. I am reminded day in and day out each time he walks through the door at the end of the day that we won't be embracing and kissing hello. I'm reminded every night when he doesn't come over and scoop me up in his arms as we walk up the stairs to go to sleep. We don't walk up the stairs together any more, I do, he sleeps downstairs in the guest room. I'm reminded each time we stand in the kitchen together and he doesn't grab me by waist and rest his head on my shoulder and I am reminded each time he says something hurtful like he did tonight. I would rather be alone than have to endure any of this any longer. To know you are the cause for the misery of someones existence and you feel it every day, is too much to bare. When I was younger I often would think ahead to these days. I saw us growing old together, surrounded by our children, grandchildren and family. Walking together holding hands and sharing our life. But this will not be our life, not with each other any way and I can't move forward as long as I'm reminded of this everyday. I want to scream GET OUT, but I don't, I can't, my fault is I still love him and could never really be that cruel. But I fear that if he doesn't move soon, I will be swallowed up and cease to exist. Not in the mortal way, but in the emotional I'm not okay in my head way. I yearn for peace. Peace, I feel, is all I have left to salvage from my life that is slipping away. So I cling to the notion of November...D Day. The month I hope I will regain some shred of dignity and self appreciation. When I can start to be whole again and feel like a person who will one day walk hand in hand feeling loved and peeking over to my children and grandchildren knowing I made this and to feel that saying I instead of we, will be enough.

The Day After...

I woke up this morning and realized what I had written last night. It sounded like a one woman pity party. I had self indulged in the anguish that had been served up and I reveled in it. The "poor me" was dripping from my fingers as I typed steadily away professing the pain I once again had fallen trap to. But the truth is, I set myself up. The evening before last, my...I don't even know what to call him anymore, and I had a really nice evening. We started a line of communication, discussing issues that had been suppressed over the years. I felt good about getting things out and hearing him unleash some of the pain he has also felt. It seemed like we had made some progress with our situation and had gotten somewhat of a handle on how to deal with things in a peaceful manner. We both were in agreement that he needed to move out so we could find out exactly where these emotions and issues would take us. He is riddled with questions about himself and what he feels or rather doesn't feel and I cannot be a part of his journey to awareness, for his and my sanity.Last night we shared dinner together, something we really don't do any longer. It was a pleasant conversation and went off without any drama, once again, a nice feeling. Afterward we were discussing my brothers wedding this Saturday. He took off work on Friday, as did I and he proceeded to tell me that he had figured he would help me clean and get the house ready and then Friday evening would go check out the weekend long Bike Fest that was taking place downtown and at Harley Davidson. That's when I did it. I opened my mouth and set myself up all on my own. I asked him if he wanted some company. He quickly answered no and kept talking about his plans. I stopped in my tracks, not sure if I had heard what I thought I had and asked him if he had just said no, he said yes he did. He then proceeded again to tell me about the upcoming events, Harley Davidson was having a wet t-shirt contest and he figured he'd go to that. I was stunned and breathless, I couldn't believe I had done that to myself. It was purely innocent. I thought it sounded like fun, and after a day of cleaning would be good to get out for awhile with someone I trust and I know would have a good time with. I wasn't thinking couple, rather friends. But I've realized now, even though I can view our relationship in a friendly manner, he cannot. For him there is a very definite set of lines and never the two shall meet. Which is okay, but I need to be cautious with my assumptions, or rather not assume at all.I will have to always keep my guard up and not take that step that plummets me into sadness. Our talk of remaining friends, is just that, talk. He has stepped backward into his teenage years and needs to fulfill whatever void he feels he's lacking without the company of me or my friendship. So for now, while we are still living together we will remain "friends." And keep it light and fool ourselves within the confines of our four walls. But both of us know the truth. Once he leaves so does our friend connection and we will become acquaintances who once shared a past.

Better Living Through Chemistry

Tonight I am so very tired. Tired of feeling bad, tired of feeling. I've never been the type of person to take chemicals to alter my mood, but lately I find myself escaping more and more. A Xanax today, a Loritab tomorrow and a glass or two of wine with dinner. My mind is constantly moving, my stomach constantly turning and my heart in an accelerated mode of breaking.The few hours of bliss obtained with a tiny pill seem to be the option that best suites the constant flux my body feels on a daily basis. This is my present. Nothing like my past and I hope very different from my future. For now it appeases the ever consuming monster that sucks out all the light from my core and replaces it with a cold hardening darkness. I reflect on years wasted, chances not taken and opportunity thrown away. I've looked change in the face and spit on it. Content to be discontent and maintain the Stepford appearance while knowing the part I was playing was for the audience surrounding me and nothing more. I don't regret the love I chose, rather the road I chose to walk down with that love. A path of reasoning and choices based on others needs besides my own. My choice, my bed. But the question I find myself asking lately is what do I do when better living through chemistry is no longer an option? When the xanax no longer numbs and the Loritab ceases to give me bliss? Or will all this be gone in November? Will I no longer yearn to step out for the day, shut down or feel...nothing? Will my future change with the rising of one day and the calm of knowing I will no longer have to jump through hoops or walk a tight rope just to keep my home at peace? I hope so. I've never thought of myself as a person who wished to dull life, rather the opposite. Maybe I just need to stop, take a breath and let myself off the hook. Or maybe I just need to stop.

Waiting...

I'm not sure if anyone really understands what it's like to live with or be close to loved ones that are bipolar unless it's first hand. I've had friends, acquaintances, even strangers I meet in passing tell me horror stories of the constant and unpredictable changes that can happen minute to minute with someone who is diagnosed as being bipolar. But it wasn't until the past six months or so that I have truly begun to understand. I've always thought the love in my life was "moody". Sometimes so much that in the past couple of years I could never tell from second to second whether or to duck from the flying daggers been thrown around the room. There were many days I tried to shield the blow from our daughters, soften it and make excuses but I don't think I was fooling anyone but myself. It's so strange and confusing. We could have days that were wonderful and then in a split second it could feel like Antarctica in the room and the harsh words and temperament would take over.It was like walking the high wire with no safety net and when you fell, you fell hard.

Even now as the days grow closer to him leaving, I am still having to mix a false sense of bliss with the occasional blow to the head. It's so hard to wake up in the morning and feel like maybe things will have a slim and I know unrealistic chance of turning around and then by the evening I'm counting the minutes until he leaves. My heart is broken, my head is swimming and my body is constantly sick inside. Living with a bipolar love is numbing and blood boiling all in the same sentence. It makes you feel like your constantly walking through a doorway and then turning around and walking back the way you came. Your dizzy and held up by the sheer knowledge that there is an end in sight and if you can just wait a little longer the door will stop swinging.I know there is help for bipolar disorder but when the one afflicted does not treat it, you're left to drown in a pool of your wasted words. Wanting is not enough, hoping is not enough, loving is not enough. It is completely out of your hands. And so you self preserve and quietly hold close to your heart the thought that one day his eyes will open and he will realize that loving someone and losing them is very different than loving them and giving them away.

Knowing...

I'm not sure what's worse, knowing or not knowing. Today I found out something that I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to know. Purely on accident I found out that my soon to be moving out my life husband, had flowers sent to someone else. Now I know you think I should just probably accept the fact that we are not together and move on.But for now that's hard because we still share the same house. And until you have watched the person you've loved for so long, evolve into everything he had despised about others in the past, then you can't possibly understand. I felt as if all the air had been knocked out of my body and the fire inside grew to the eruption of a long awaited volcano.I had once again been made a chump. How many times does it take before someone realizes that they've had enough? Apparently several. But this was the one for me. This was the final blow to the ever ending plummet of punches that I have felt over the past year and a half. I think what hurt the worse was the nonchalant way he answered me when confronted. He simply uttered the word...yes. No explanation, no attempt, just yes. I had no words. Since this was on the phone I simply hung up. I hope whoever received them really needed them, because they came with a very expensive price tag...respect. In one call he destroyed every ounce of respect we had left between us. Clearly he had tossed mine out the window, but I still clung to the memory of the man he once was and today that was disintegrated. I feel nothing tonight. No anger, no hurt, no regret, no longing, no wanting, nothing. I am void and desolate inside and I'm not sure how to regain that part of me that has been tossed away. I'm suffocating and I can't seem to find the oxygen to breath any longer. I just want to feel normal again...

Ignorance...Alive and Well in Las Vegas

Normally I don't jump on a band wagon. I may run along side it for a few miles but leaping is just not something I do. But the injustice that was bestowed on my daughter and her fiance today could just not be let go. So leaping it is. Today my daughter was informed that the company that is contracted with the wedding service will not provide her wedding cake simply because she and her fiance are a gay couple. Now as a mother who loves her daughter very much, which I'm sure you can relate too, I found this news to be not only horrendous but I think it might actually have popped a blood vessel in my brain. I found myself hearing that buzz in my ears. You know the one I'm referring to. It's when something makes you so angry or nervous that you lose all your ability to hear. Words become mere sounds droning and vibrating in your head. After listening to the sound of my my babies voice as she described the events I could a feel a literal volcano erupting in my body. The thought that someone could deliberately hurt my child and her sweet fiance in such a manner was beyond words. I really felt that we had gone beyond all this nonsense. Apparently I'm the one who is ignorant. The pain this company (their name is Tiers of Joy in Las Vegas) has caused my child is beyond anything any mother could imagine. To have your child singled out because of someone else's lack of humanity takes your breath away. The wedding company has told her they will credit them and they can go anywhere they want for the cake. I find this to be a good outcome. The last thing a newly joined couple needs is to have their wedding shadowed with ill will and negative thoughts. As for Tiers of Joy, they better reconsider their name spelling because they pissed off the wrong mother and I see tears, not tiers in their immediate future. Tiers of Joy Las Vegas the cake place that offers discrimination along with their lace and roses. Their contact # is 702.263.9895 and their email is tiersofjoy@cox.net if anyone feels compelles to voice their complete horror with this company.

How I feel today...

As I sit here writing this, my husband of thirty one years is currently on his way to Sturgis South Dakota. He left with some "friends" very early Friday morning. They are crossing the country on their Harley Davidsons with the wind in their faces and the cares of daily life a mere blip in their brains. By his side is Thing. For all those who have read my blog before, Thing is the abbreviated term for Fat Grandma Face. It became to taxing to write such a lengthy description and Thing seem to fit not only the emotions I was feeling but the perplexed look I'm sure I must get when in its presence. I remeber the last time I did see Thing, I really didn't recognize it at first. I was busy admiring the outfit it had on, it was dressed very nicely, befitting for a sales representative. But as my eyes wondered toward it's face I remember thinking...huh...how nice they hire older people for sales as well. I thought maybe this person was in her early sixties ( Thing is 50ish) and you usually don't see that with marketers in the field. It wasn't until it turned toward me that I realized what I was actually looking at. Hence the look of perlexion on my face. I guess when in a mid life crisis you go blind as well. It's funny  because Thing possess all the issues that my husband always had to bring up to me when he saw women Harley riders. He never liked tattoos on womens inner forearms, Thing has them on both. It really botherd him if a woman had a roll around the middle that hung over their pants, Thing has that. And he always commented if a woman had large saddle bags on their thighs and well you guessed it...Thing really has those. Now I won't lie I do carry a little extra thigh, the Italian curse or blessing, it depends on who you talk to. But if you can tuck a change of clothing into the bulge on the side of your leg then I think maybe it's time to cut down the cheese cake intake. Someone might accuse me of sounding bitter...you think? I guess this is just the next phase of whatever this is that one goes through when knocked over the head with a baseball bat. My husband was angry with me about a week or so ago. Apparently several people at work had come to him after I had posted on facebook a line about how I was feeling that day. I explained to him that as a writer, it helps to get things out, I feel better. He accused me of airing my dirty laundry in public. The way I see it though, he was really angry because I aired his dirty laundry in public. The mighty always fall the hardest don't they? I'm so tired of feeling like there is something in the room that's out of place. I long for the day when the routine was mundane, the weekend exciting and my relationship easy. I miss the little things the most. Getting up on a Sunday morning and going out to breakfast, it doesn't quite work the same on your own. Coming home from work too tired to cook and just running up to the local Olive Garden to share a dinner and some wine. Once again, not so much fun alone. Popping popcorn and laying around late on a Saturday afternoon and watching a movie. Okay that one I can do, but popcorn is always better when shared. And then there's the time of night when you crawl into bed and scooch over to each other. You take a moment to get comfortable and then inevitabley have some sort of conversation about future plans, the days events or the funny thing that one of the kids or grandkid had said on the phone that day. You stay close for awhile nesteled in each others arms until sleep has almost taken you away, then you gentley kiss, say I love you and move over a bit to your little space of the bed. Maybe bitter was the wrong word...

The Less Than Dynamic Duo

Today I would like to tell you a story. It's a little known tale of two super heroes; Fat Grandma Face and Teen Nice Rack. Now before all my friends who are loving and caring Grandma's get their heads in a tale-spin, let me explain the term Fat Grandma Face. As you all know I myself am a grandma to a beautiful, smart and completely amazing little girl. But Fat Grandma Face is what I like to describe as the anti-Grandma. She is completely self absorbed and self serving. She flits through the day with one thought and one thought only; how can I make myself happier above all else? I hope this clears up any discomfort you may feel with my terminology of this individual. Teen Nice Rack on the other hand is a poor wayward lost little soul who aimlessly floats through life choosing the wrong man over and over again. She is doomed to fulfill her days with a muted sense of what it means to be loved and over indulges in the type of man who cheats, lies and would completely disregard her if an even better nice rack were to glide by. But enough with the self opinionated antidotes about our two super heroes. I have neglected to tell you exactly what their super powers are. You see Fat Grandma Face and Teen Nice Rack posses a very unique power. They have the ability to seek out and find all those husbands that are miserable, dazed and confused. Living their lives from day to day with wives that are boring, mundane and over caring. The wives who perform the same routines week to week of washing clothes, going to the dry cleaners, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, picking up prescriptions at the pharmacy, remembering to make appointments at the doctors or dentist and listening to the hazards of working with a group of inept people day in and day out. They are suffocated and overly paid attention too by these evil and calculating wives. They suck out all the fun from the lives of these husbands and force them to exist with responsibility, sharing and thinking of others before themselves. But have no fear...Fat Grandma Face is here. She swoops in with Teen Nice Rack at her side ready to take all that horrid excuse for an existence away and replace it with long bike rides, a place to live that is free of the mundane wife and replace it with jamming concerts, weekend getaways and self indulgence. The husband is once again renewed, refreshed and can breath. He joins Fat Grandma and Teen Nice Rack in a life of celebration and freedom. He is...single. Single to break away from all of the confines that had plummeted him to the depths of reality and now he can make his own new reality. They will be there by his side to guide and help him achieve all that which had escaped him before. They will make sure that he has only one thought on his mind...himself. They encourage and cultivate this newly formed person, giving him all the self serving tools he needs to achieve the utmost glory out of his life. They will revel in the fact that they have had another successful rescue of a suppressed husband and he will bask in their greatness completely thankful for the key to his chains. And with her Harley Davidson tucked ever so boldly between her legs, Fat Grandma will ride with the wind feeling at peace knowing she, along with Teen Nice Rack had another successful rescue.

The inevitable waves of change.

What a difference 30 days can bring. In the past month, I've lost a husband and yesterday, my best friend. Maybe lost is too strong of a word, because although I can't see her everyday she is still reachable by phone or text. She got on a plane and headed back to New York, the place that both of started our lives in and both of us hold dear in our hearts. The husband is still visible and I do for now have daily communication with him, but he has pretty much checked out and will soon do so in residence as well. For all of you who know me, I'll say this, it's like last year only this time I'm staying in the house. I'm mourning both losses, but losing my friend, sister, cousin, is harder than I could ever imagine. What do you do when your rock is no longer there, when the person who was able to talk you through the hysterics, go to the stupid movies no one else would dare see or just sit and have a glass of wine with you while you wallow in your own self pity? Losing a husband after 31 years is tragic and it does rip your heart out but let's face it, I've already had a trial run once before. The shock becomes well...a little less shocking and more just bewilderment. But the loss I'm feeling right now weighs me down so much that I feel as if a part of me has left as well. There is an empty hollow feeling in my body and as ridiculous as it might be, I just want to stay home and be miserable. I won't, I know that I can't. I've become too dependent on eating everyday and since now it is entirely up to me to provide for me, off to work I go. But when I'm there, I know my head will wander and I will push through the day knowing that in a few more hours I will get my wish. I will go home, be with Cooper and wallow. I know this will pass one day soon. I will wake up and the routine will find itself once again and I will feel "normal". But for now, I will be content to feel discontent and give myself a break. I cannot control what has happened because I cannot control the will of others and what's best for them. So I will keep moving, keep trying and keep writing in hopes that one soon the dust will settle and life will be livable again.

Vampires, Werewolves and Witches...Oh my.

I first must apologize for the rant I am about to unleash on all of you who are unsuspecting and nice enough to take the time to read this. It is extremely contradictory considering the release of my last young adult fiction and the impending release of the second book. But it is about something I hold very close and dear to my heart and a subject that, let's just say, is not just sore but down right excruciating. I'm speaking in reference to the first novel I wrote, The Garden of Two. Now for all of those who know me, and I mean really know me, not just checking in occasionally, you understand the sweat and soul that went into writing this. And although it is not a literary treasure like one of my favorites, Of Mice and Men, it is my version of a jewel...to me. It is my first attempt to break out from the comfort and coziness that are my books for children and write something that is longer than the goodnight story time we tell our kids. It is pure and simple. A love story centered around the ever changing times that World War I brought to this nation and Europe. A time when innocence really could be shattered and having a common cause saw nations uniting, for the first round. A time when the beauty of a garden could have you sit and still feel wonderment in its color. Don't get me wrong, I know we can still sit and appreciate a beautiful garden today. But today it is followed with thoughts about how many rain forests are being chopped down or if these plants were proper for this terrain, is it wasting water? And I believe that we need to worry and be diligent about all of these things, but for a moment, wouldn't it be nice to just be? The rejection letters that I have been receiving from agents seem to indicate all the same thing...not the popular context for today's market. It seems that if there isn't any vampires, werewolves or even aliens, then our teenagers and young adults don't want to read. it. Everything is supernatural, stranger than life and bloody and violent. Once again, don't get me wrong, if you know me I love this style of writing. I've always have. Give me a good time travel story and I'm hooked. But why can't there be room for both? Once in awhile to sit back and just take a breath. Imagine what life was like for them ninety five years ago? How did they tackle some of the issues we face today? How was it to be in love and have your boyfriend go to war with weapons we had just begun to understand? Do those issues sound familiar? Maybe things aren't so different, just they way they faced them were. I don't know, I still find this kind of thing interesting and maybe I'm in the minority, but I do believe in this story. And I have to believe that one day, so will someone else. In the mean time I will get back to writing my second novel...it's a sci-fi.

Alone in the Crowd

I realize that as life goes on and the years past, the once young passion and feeling that every breath we take is for the one you love, gives way to the grind of day to day living. You start out just the two of you, lying in bed at night endlessly planning your future. How many kids will you have? What will they look like? Will we be able to buy a house? And when those things begin to become reality, we become wrapped up in our ever expanding family and the daily race to get ahead. Working our long days and coming home to dinner, laundry, homework, mowing the lawn, cleaning the house and the endless requests for money from cable, gas, electric, phone and a mortgage, to name a few. Through all this however, somehow we still manage to steal away a few moments of time to hold hands and embrace each other. Maybe it's not for the long periods of time that we enjoyed in the beginning of our journey, but we make it quality. Clinging to each other with the "us against the world" attitude, somehow makes everything bearable. Knowing that the years passing are spent with someone who is always on your side and holds you up when all you want to do is crawl under the covers, is enough to keep you leaping out of bed when the alarm goes off each morning. But what happens when the one person you count on to be by your side, suddenly leaves you feeling alone in the crowd. There is no more cheering you up on a bad day, warm embraces or a caressing touch to your hand. The hugs that you had grown to expect, no longer exist and the passionate kisses have given way to a quick peck here and there. When the one person who could make you feel beautiful, now barely notices your in the room. How do you cope, when the world that was once safe and sure, now spins off its axis? You find yourself trying to remember the last time he grabbed you and just enveloped you in his arms. As time goes on, you forget what it used to feel like. You start to replace reality with day dream. You spend your nights thinking about a time when you were the most important person in his life and how he couldn't wait to get to you every night when he came home. And then you start to feel sad and mourn the life you once had together. But with all mourning, there comes a time when you can no longer dwell on the past and the pain. You start to rethink your life and you realize that maybe it won't be what you had originally thought your forever would be. But it's okay because you are still you. And no matter what lies ahead, you will be okay. Because you are a beautiful, talented, clever person who is surrounded by people who love you. People who will always cheer in your corner, love you no matter what and be by your side. And although it's not the same, it's okay. Because love can be found again and the world is waiting...    











easier.  

A Fools Fantasy

So I sit here this morning typing away trying to get all the bad that is infecting my body out. I figured if I get it down on paper than there is some small chance I would have purged that which is making me ill. My thoughts today are on lies. You know those little stories we all make up when if we tell what really happened, would make us uncomfortable or vulnerable in some way. Now I'm not innocent by any means. A little twist here and there of the truth to protect someones ego, ("No that dress doesn't make your ass look like the back end of a hummer,") or( "I don't know what your boss was thinking, clearly you were better suited for that position,") are all valid reasons to use the little white lie for good and not evil. No... I'm talking about the one that is a clear, concise and total alteration of the events that took place. The one that when confronted, gives you that sinking feeling in your stomach which is then followed by waves of nausea and visions of vomiting. The one where you wish there was a shower hot enough and long enough to wash clean the dirt that has been flung at you and now sticks to your body like a second layer of skin. And to make matters worse, the perpetrator, the one responsible for completely altering your world and spinning it off its axes doesn't so much as blink an eye when uncovered. There is no attempt at an explanation, a heartfelt apology or even a grunt. Instead, they choose to try and flip the situation and make it seem somehow you are the reason for the lie. It's your fault that they were put in such an uncomfortable situation. They may even go so far as to question you. You know the one I'm talking about. You've caught them red handed, you get them to finally admit the story they were fabricating was not true and then you say..."So you lied to me?" and they in all there innocence and pure disregard for any ounce of respect that they might have showed you, answer..."How did I lie to you?" And there it is, that slap in the face that sends your head wielding around so fast you feel as if you don't grab it and hold on, it will come spinning off and fall down on the ground beside you. You sit there stunned.For a moment feel you that surely your ears have been playing some kind of cruel game with your brain. You couldn't have heard what you thought you did, right? They didn't just add insult to injury and with mere thoughts call you the biggest moron to grace the planet? Right? But wait...you stop and reset set your ears and your brain. And then it hits you, only this time with a full body slam. Yes...they did. You then realize that you not only have been a victim of this ridiculous concoction that was mindlessly constructed, but you have been reaffirmed as the biggest fool to ever grace the planet. All which you thought was true, all that you had believed was a facade and the only one who really had that sinking feeling in their stomach...was you. And then nothing. No words are spoken to ease your pain. No gesture to make you some how feel better. Just...nothing. So I'm hoping this is my way of getting that feeling back of surety. I am strong, I am capable. I am not a sap for someone to use and then appease in little increments when it suits them. I will follow my dream. I will make things happen and most importantly...I will go shopping.

Binder of Rejection

So on the advice of my husband, I took all my rejection letters that I have been compiling in a folder and placed them neatly in a binder entitled...what else...Just a Little Inconvenience. I went to my local Target (they were less expensive than the office supply store) and picked out the happiest color I could find. I wanted my slew of past rejection to be housed in something pretty. Sort of like a disguise. It looked nice on the outside while all along something dark and dank lie waiting. I settled on lavender. It gave me the feel of Spring. Rebirth and starting over. Nonsense I know, because nothing has changed yet with my grand search for an agent, but hope, no matter how futile, is still hope. I even paid the extra $3.99 and splurged on page protectors. Now my rejection can stay preserved in nice little sheets of plastic. What a thrill. I decided to place them chronologically, putting the ones with no date at the very back and the newest in front, you get the picture. Anyway, while I was diligently sorting them into piles by year, I noticed that I inadvertently sent queries into the same agency more than once for the novel The Garden of Two. Not only receiving one rejection, but two. Now you might think this new sad piece of knowledge might have disturbed me or at the very least shook me a little. But to my surprise, it didn't. In fact, it just sparked something inside and made me feel more determined than ever. I will prove my novel is worthy enough to be placed on the shelf right next to the likes of Nicholas Sparks, Dean Koontz and that literary anomaly, Stephanie Meyer. I will keep on sending queries. I will not stop writing. And if one day my binder finds itself busting at the seems, no longer able to take one more rejection, I will simply drive to Target and buy a bigger binder...pink might be nice.

Sunday Night

In the past I never really liked Sundays. It was always the day of the weekend that was tainted. I'd wake up in the morning and much to my delight, it was still the weekend. So I would go down stairs, pour a cup of coffee and sit quietly enjoying my peaceful and relaxing thoughts. After about an hour I would fix some breakfast and possibly do a little laundry. It was nice. I went through the day at my own pace, enjoying the time that was for me. But then two or three o'clock would roll around and it would inevitably happen. That feeling of dread would pour over my body like a wash of molten lava burning through my skin. I would actually on occasion become temporarily paralyzed with the thought that yes tomorrow was indeed Monday .And from that moment on my Sunday no longer represented my time for relaxation and inner peace. It was an all consuming reminder that the weekend was slipping away at a perilous rate and my day tomorrow would again become the mundane, boring and all too often predictable first of four more to come. But the past few months that has been changing. Sunday is no longer filled with false hopes of a time when I can do those things that make me happy, only to be ripped out of my hands. No, since I now very often do not go into the office on Monday (I've opted to work from home on Mondays), my Sundays have been returned to a day of carefree bliss. A reminder of days gone by as a young child who was not affected by the daily grind of jobs, cars, groceries and cooking. I now love my relaxing Sundays once again. No more midday crisis or melt down. No more tainted days, nope not for me. Well... that is until Monday.

Promoting

As I sit here this morning going through the "routine" of various internet connections, it occurred to me that lately I've been spending more time talking about my current book than writing anything else. I do understand that all of this is necessary to get the word out there and to promote means to gain a wider audience...or any audience for that matter. But I'm starting to feel a little disconnected from my actual stories. Don't get me wrong. Being able to have not one but two books already in print is something that astonishes me everyday. And even on my worst writing day it's better than the best day at my current day job. But finding balance has so far proven to be somewhat of a challenge. Not to say I'm not up for it, but it would be nice to find a more copacetic approach. I guess I'll just keep plugging along until either I figure it out or discover some brilliant marketing skills that will whisk me onto a new level of author. Until then gotta go...I feel a tweet forming.