Tired of all the Feces

Some of the best writing comes from the deepest pain. Often I don’t know if I can truly express the agony warring inside of me, but then I just sit still and type, and a plethora of emotion comes out via my fingertips.

I don’t often share it. It’s too dark. Too deep. Too personal for the world to view and judge.

The world is good at that. Judging. Everyone sitting up high on their golden pedestal (myself included sometimes).

We have a lot of that going on right now with our current POTUS, and it is coming from all sides. Every side is slinging the shit across the line, hoping to hit their mark. And here is my judging moment: It’s sickening to see a world full of GROWN ASS ADULTS, many OLD and WISE enough to know better, acting like 2-year-old bratty children. POTUS included.

In a world with so much more going on, everyone is so focused on the dung at the bottom of the shoe, instead of just wiping it off on the grass and focusing on the crisis that is our world. Battling RACISM, HATRED, persecution of beliefs … and seriously we can get into space but we cannot figure out how to solve WORLD HUNGER? What is WRONG with us? What is WRONG with the people of this world that cannot take a step back or jump down from their mighty pedestal and say … wow, I could be a better human today.

It doesn’t have to be huge. It can be as simple as a, “Thank you” or holding the door for someone you normally would just let close on their face. Something as easy as letting someone who’s been sitting at a stop sign for twenty minutes looking for a break to get in, cut you off and not blare on the horn and throw your middle finger up. It could be making a small donation to charities that actually OFFER relief to those suffering (here are some that actually do what they claim to do). To those without a roof tonight. To those without a home. To those without a computer and unable to read all the barbaric and inhumane barbs constantly being expressed by grown ass adults (okay, maybe on this point, they are better off).

Stop throwing around statements like “fake news” as if it is a racial slur. We are living in a world with so much information at our fingertips. Stop being lazy and watching or reading only one or two news networks, and find out for yourself the TRUTH. Don’t just sit by blindly and believe all the hokum being said by someone of power JUST because they are in power. Then USE that information to actively, intelligently and in a USEFUL manner, fight against the hate, racism, world hunger, etc. Don’t just hop on the internet, load up Facebook or Twitter and just regurgitate the hate right back… how is that at ALL helpful?

Just … everyone GROW UP already and lets us be productive, effective, intelligent and HUMANE people. We can do it. It’s just one little step each day that you can to do to become that better HUMAN being.



One of the harshest realizations is when you recognize that you mean absolutely nothing to someone who means the world to you… has been the world to you.

A call came through to me at almost 6PM yesterday. It may have been you, but I don’t know because I fumbled with my phone in my anxious nature, and accidently hit the volume button which immediately ended the call, which I am almost positive you felt was a slight and that I ended the call before it even began on purpose, but it is untrue.

And yet, this is life. One misunderstanding after another. One misinterpretation of what we believe are facts, but are just lines after lines of “Oops’s and Shit’s and Fuck did I do that’s”.

Moments of greatness or futures can be completely changed by the simple accidental press of a button. Had I answered, would we have fixed this and moved on happily ever after? Or would we still be on this path of self-destruction, taking all those around us with us? Each one of us blaming the other for the end of a ten-year friendship. Each one of us pointing the finger, without possibly knowing the full facts of the matter.

I feel lost without you, but now it has become a matter of pride. More than 32hrs have passed and not a single contact has been made. Am I really that easy to just let go of? Did I really matter that little? Perhaps you never really felt what you claim to have felt.

Heartbreak is never easy, especially when you think the other is going through it as well … but what if it is only you? Suffering in silence, breaking down in your own little world with no one to hear or care one iota. Does the heart not break a little louder?

Today’s Prompt: Simple

via Daily Prompt: Simple

Life is anything but
We strive and die
To breathe another day
To change another lie
Save another life
We break and holler
At injustice and reality
We are but a drop in an ocean
Small and in a tidal wave
Of heartbreak and misery
Of false hopes and dreams
Standing alone on a cliff
Awaiting the right gust
Slipping away from life
Which is anything but 

Each day I set aside 30 minutes to just ‘write’. Do not edit, do not go back and reread, and just post the raw form of what I write in said minutes. This poem didn’t take the full thirty minutes, but it’s my submission for today (and the prompt attached).


via Daily Prompt: Ten

The comforting sounds of city noise surround me. The blaring horns, the squeal of rusted bus breaks coming to a stop, and the loud chatter of passersby.

A smile touches my lips as I stuff my frigid fingers deeper into my coat pocket, dipping my head slightly so the wind doesn’t slap me in the face. I hurry down the sidewalk with the motion of people traffic, knowing when to twist and turn to avoid being bumped by the non-city person.

Finally, I reach my destination; a small mom-and-pop café on the corner of 5th and 23rd.

A bell jingles as I enter the warmth and the scent of confectionary sugar and mocha assaults my senses and I love it. I inhale deeply and step behind the last person in line, tugging my hands out of my coat and pulling my knit cap off.

I stuff everything into my purse while simultaneously pulling my wallet free. The line moves slowly, but I am in no rush; plus I know the wait is well worth it.

Finally, when it’s my turn to order, a pretty young woman turns to me, eyes bright with the start of a new day and unburdened by the typical customer.

“What can I get ya hun?” She asks with a hint of a southern accent.

I always get the same thing when I come here, as it’s out of my way and often just to treat myself. I return her smile and am already pulling out a twenty dollar bill when I order, “A small caramel macchiato with whip cream and a chocolate deep fried croissant.” I slide the twenty across the counter as she taps away at her screen.

“Great choice. They should be out in about ten minutes. If you take a seat, I’ll have someone bring it to you, okay?” She hands me back my change and I nod.

“Thanks,” I give her another smile and move to sit against the wall near the back of the shop, so I can look over the room and outside.

A light drizzle is now coming down, creating an array of reflection pools of quickly passing cars and flashing neon signs from across the street. A few come in off the street, shaking their coats or umbrellas before stepping into line to order and then quickly leave.

A woman no more than thirty comes in with a stroller, a doll-like toddler sitting upright, legs swinging and singing a nonverbal tune. Big blue eyes take in the café and a giggle slips past her lips, hands clapping together. Mom presses a kiss to her daughter’s forehead just before she steps up to the counter to order a milk, hot chocolate, and a muffin.

They move to take a seat near the windows, stroller facing the café and I. The young girl lets out an endearing, “Oooo” as mom places a chunk of chocolate muffin on her small tray. She immediately begins to tear it apart with tiny little fingers, stuffing crumbs in her mouth when she remembers its food.

It’s been about ten minutes, and as I glance up and away from the mother and daughter, I note a young man, no older than twenty, coming toward me with a small brown bag in one hand and a bright yellow cup in another and I feel my mouth water with anticipation.

As he nears my table, chaos erupts.

One moment the entire café is a serene, cozy and inviting and in the next second, it’s a scene out of a war zone. Screams deafen me instantly before I realize they’re coming from my own lungs.

Something is pinning me, keeping me from moving, but I am too numb to make out what the hulking metal above me is.

I hear muffled yelling, someone crying and in the far distance the sound of sirens. My mind is too dazed to compute what is going on, and as my vision blurs the man that comes to stand over me blurs with it.

“Are…okay… feel… legs?” He is clearly trying to ask me something, but I cannot make the out the disjointed question.

“Croissant,” slips past my lips and a flash of memory comes to the forefront. A young man, brown hair and startling autumn irises. The man above me is not this boy. I look around, trying to see around this man, but the hunk of metal and his shoulders are blocking my view.

I try to shift my weight and a cry of pain tears past my throat as a searing spasm burns from my toes up along my spine to my brain, and I know I’m going to be sick. I turn my head away from the man quickly enough to dry heave to my left.

The blaze of pain has revived my synapses and my eyes widen with a clarity I never thought I possessed.

That’s when my brain can properly process that a car is resting on top of me, trapping my legs between its bumper and the remnants of the front of the café all around me, keeping me pinned.

“Just hold on,” the male voice is back, clearer this time. “The paramedics are almost here.” He takes my free hand and gives it a squeeze.

I turn away from the black sedan and catch his gaze. He’s older, perhaps in his fifties. Graying eyebrows are pinched in concern and I read what he’s not saying; I am not going to make it.

The news settles over me with a calm I never expected to have on my last day of life. Is this what shock feels like? Complete numbness of all extremities and emotional thought. I feel my grip on his fingers weakening as he grips them tighter.

“Hold on,” this perfect stranger practically begs. I see the moisture pooling in his eyes, and I find it curious that a complete stranger would cry for me.

I find the strength to squeeze his hand, comforting him, before my entire body goes lax.

Images flash before me so quickly, I cannot make sense of any of it until the last one snaps into the panel and it’s of me glancing down at myself through a murky lake. I watch as the older man lowers his head and quietly cries, gently shutting my eyelids.

There’s a blinding flash of light before I am whipped away from the imagery of my last moments.

Hashtag I am a Dingus…with a Capital D

So … yeah. I had every good intention of taking super gorgeous (maybe) photos with my Nikon. Lugged it all the way up to Vermont. Got there and pulled it out to program my favorite settings and get an error. No FREAKING MEMORY CARD!

Yep. Dingus of the year award goes to *drumroll* Marcy. I’d left it in my small point-and-shoot, which I’d used last.

We were in the middle of nowhere and the nearest electronic store was about 50 minutes away (which is practically almost home LOL). So all of my photos from the weekend are from my cell phone … they aren’t the best quality, but they’re also not the total worst.

My favorite ones are actually of the drive home. It was very foggy/surreal and thankfully I was not driving because I got a few photos that I would totally print and put on my walls if I’d taken with the Nikon (don’t think they’ll look as good blown up from a cell phone shot). But yeah … I’m posting those first because I really loved them. The rest are mostly from Saturday.

We went up to Stratton Mountain Resort. There were SO many people. I have never really been to a ski resort before but even my friends who go often said it was more packed than usual (The weather was in the 40s but they had a lot of snow from the week before so it was perfect conditions). While Erica, Vince and Erik went to ski/snowboard, Trisha, Nelson and I went tubing (which was our first time—yes, we have been deprived). It was a LOT of fun.

That night we played Cards Against Humanity which was a lot of laughs. Whoever won the round, had to take a shot, so we were pretty buzzed (Jen, who is Erica’s best friend came so I just ‘met her’—was totally blitzed with a couple of others LOL).

Sunday we had a delicious breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon and toast and then we hung out for about an hour and left around noon.

It was a great weekend. We talked a LOT, no one was on their phone/laptops/computers, etc. We really just communicated, had laughs, drank, ate great food, played and it was fantastic. I definitely need more weekends like this in my life.


Couldn’t believe I caught someone out on the ice!

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Random Chapter + Book I’m Writing

Soooo I decided to share a random chapter from a book I am working on (slowly).

Just a little background before you decide to read. David is the main character’s (Zoe) best friend and there is no attraction there at all (on either side).

The main character has been trying to learn to control her magical powers (and it’s not going that smoothly). Trinity is the main character’s best friend but a normal human and so has to be kept in the dark (and this has put an odd strain on the friendship).

Especially since Trinity likes Lucas, who has been thrown into Zoe’s life as her future ‘trainer/protector’.

Okay… I hope that helps with the chapter I’m sharing. 😛 This is still ‘draft’ form, so please forgive the grammar/spelling errors.

I’d love feedback.

Chapter Fifteen

Seven whole weeks. Pain, sweat and tears. Torture, burns and laughs. Seven weeks of training and still I feel as if I know nothing about magic.

The house needs a new porch because I burned down our old one. Two windows in the back must be replaced because Lucas and David got a little too frustrated in their millionth attempt to teach me how to balance the nature around me, that we got a rock through one and a branch through another.

I think Aunt Tabs might be drinking—heavily.

On top of it all, I feel sore in places one should not feel sore—my brain, heart and soul—if mine exists. They hurts all the time, and the nosebleeds are a lot more frequent. I haven’t learned much in seven weeks, and yet I feel like I’ve been to hell and back.

The house is proof of this.

What’s worse is that the gap between Trinity and I is growing.

No longer does she sit with us at lunch, finding it too awkward to be around both David and Lucas, and since Lucas and David refuse to leave my side … yeah.

She sits with the other cheerleaders now, and barely head bobs me when we run into each other. I note the betrayal in her eyes, and I want to make it all better, but I can’t.

I can’t say a word.

I can’t defend why I am spending all my time with David and Lucas.

It doesn’t help that Lucas is always around me, even when David isn’t around, which is becoming more and more frequent. David is starting to give the reins over to Lucas, which means he’s preparing himself to let go.

I’m not though.

David is home to me. Lucas is … I don’t know what Lucas is. All our time together has made me see him in a different light, and I am mad that I enjoy his company. He takes his duties seriously, never crosses any lines, and yet I feel this magnetic pull that both of us are trying desperately to ignore.

As predicted, the explosion at school was pinned on faulty wiring. Humans are pretty gullible to believe it, but no one has mentioned the incident in two weeks.

I never see the other Watchers at school, but I feel them. I feel their stares, their curiosity about me and even some of their animosity.

I asked Aunt Tabs about that last one and got another long story about rivalry families, and how protective some Watchers are of their patron families. I guess it makes sense.

By the end of the seventh week, I am ready to give one of these rivalry families the crown.

“Zoe?” Trin’s tentative voice calls out from behind me.

“Huh?” I jolt awake.

She chuckles and I smile—how I’ve missed her laugh.

“Were you just sleeping?” She sounds amused.

I wipe the drool forming in the corner of my mouth. I look around and notice I’m still in the library. I had to threaten Lucas with castration for him to leave me alone today at lunch. I needed a breather big time.

I flush red. “I guess so. How embarrassing.” I frown.

She laughs again and it shoots right to my heart. I hate keeping stuff from her.

“I wasn’t going to bother you, but I wanted to see how you are doing. I see you got your cast removed,” she adds sadly.

I wave my cast-free arm around. “I almost feel naked now without it.”

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Ski Weekend + Politics

I have decided to lug the Nikon with me … lol. Reason why I don’t bring it with me more often and snap more photos like in the olden days (when it was a true passion of mine), is that I have a long lens on it 18mm-300mm and that sucker is heavier than the whole body … so yeah. Excuses, I KNOW… but nonetheless true. Still. I am bringing it with me, so I hope I have some decently good shots from this weekend to share.

I have to admit, it’s been a long time since I’ve taken photography seriously and not just flipped my phone around and snapped a few cheesy pics which I then Instagram-ed up. So, I am probably rusty.

One of my pet peeves is being rushed. Its one of the biggest reasons I stopped being passionate about photography and became overly annoyed. Since I rarely ever travel alone, whoever is traveling with me ends up rushing me and sometimes photography cannot BE rushed. I really should learn to be okay with traveling alone because that’s when I do my best photography.

Last time I took any photos that I even decently liked, was the very last cruise we took with the family in November 2015 (before dad took a really bad turn). If anyone is actually curious enough to look through the 800ish pictures I took (over 7 days … really took like 4k, but narrowed it down a LOT). HAHAHA. Here’s the link to the whole collection (apparently 8 days since I took a handful when we docked back in).

Finally packed last night for the trip. Since it’s just two nights and only a full day and a half of another, I don’t really need much. I did stuff two books and an adult coloring book in, in case EVERYONE but me wants to ski.


Though I think the girls are doing one thing and the guys are skiing, but we’ll see. I won’t have much of any internet up there, so I won’t be able to post all the next few days or read. It’s actually quite nice to disconnect, especially considering what’s happening today in the USA.

Speaking of… this will probably be the one and only time I ever talk politics. I really dislike Trump. I really think he WILL sink the US and maybe even get us blown up. Yet despite all of that, I do NOT wish him or his family physical harm. I do not wish to spew out all types of hatred toward him (especially since that is all he can do, so why be like him?) … but that is ALL I see on my Facebook (from both sides, both sides are equally horrible right now it’s very sad how divided our nation is and I really do blame him–and the media–for it, but whatever).

Cutting the rest to spare those who really don’t give two shits. 😛
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World of Warcraft Shenanigans

So I finally get a legendary in World of Warcraft and it’s apparently one of the worst … HAHA … but I’ll take it and hope I get a new/better one that is legitimately good for my class.

My poor main toon (a WW Monk) is having no luck with much of anything. I have also been trying to find decent fist weapons for transmog, but that’s like wishing for money to fall from the sky—apparently not happening.

I really don’t like the look of the artifact ones (even with the recolors) AND it annoys me to no end that I can only transmog to fists (and can’t use like daggers—which I have a crapton of beautiful ones). If only I liked a rogue. HA!

The one fist weapon I love and really want is the Crimson Steel that drops from Sartharion in The Obsidian Sanctum … and my luck (is nil). I have run it since I hit 110 in November EVERY week (I’m new to wow, so have only been playing since October)… and nada. It almost seems impossible, but not in my gaming life, Ha!

Honestly … I don’t know how people level up and do the artifact leveling for more than one character. I play mostly every night after work and most weekends and the whole thing is driving me insane. I find myself going back and doing the old expansions (since Legion is my first one, I just finished off Draenor Loremaster, rep grinds, explorations and dungeon achievements and have been eyeing Pandaria). I have to pull my own teeth and hair to do world quests (just finally hit revered with all factions – about halfway to exalted with two of the six)… I don’t know.

I do not think I could do the artifact weapon on another character (unless it was the shortest chain ever—maybe fists are long). How do you guys feel about Legion so far? What do you absolutely love? What do you absolutely hate?

I love the scenery/maps (although Stormheim was a serious bitch to get all the treasures, but gorgeous). I really hate the artifact leveling. I feel trapped at 881 for their ilvl because my guild is relatively new and we don’t currently run anything … but I’m okay with that (the people right now matter more).

Anyway, here are a few screen captures of the scenery. Mostly taken when I’ve gone hunting for treasures.

Love + Loss

Random Thoughts/Missing Dad
I think one of the most difficult things in life is to love. It also happens to be one of the most beautiful and life altering.

It just sets you up for all kinds of pain… pain that I sometimes wonder… “Is it worth it?”

When they suffer, you suffer. When they hurt, you hurt. When they pass on, the grief is all consuming and heartbreakingly awful that it has made me (personally) question so much. Why? Why do we exist to love and care only to have it ripped away from us? Why are we even here? What’s the point of all the sorrow?

Sometimes I wonder if it is better to not love. To not be so utterly connected to someone, that when they are gone, a piece (sometimes a gigantic piece) of yourself, is gone with them and nothing can ever fill that void.

Then I think about all the wonderful memories I have of my dad. Of all the times he laughed. Of all moments he showed us how much he loved us (he wasn’t big on saying the words—like me). Of all the times he sacrificed his happiness for our own (and us for him, especially in the end) … and as overwhelming as his loss is … I cannot imagine not having those memories. I cannot imagine not loving my father like I love him and having his love in return.

It’s just so freaking hard. Not seeing him every day. Not hearing his voice on the other side of the line or face-to-face. Not making him laugh that beautiful laugh of his. Not being able to hold his hand or give him a hug even one more time. Not saying “I love you.” I thankfully have no regrets, and I don’t have to live with that feeling on top of everything. It’s just his LOSS is so deep… I feel it to the core, every single day of my life and I wonder if the ache will ever lessen.

Bad Drivers + No Sleep = FML Day

One of my biggest pet peeves is bad drivers. They are pretty much impossible to avoid and I count my blessings when I can make it to work and home without coming across one—it’s rare.

Well, I consider bad parking … bad driving. This morning I pull into work and not only has someone taken MY spot, but parked stupid crooked.

I love this spot because it’s huge. It’s the biggest slot in the parking lot, and there is grass on one side… so the chances of getting the doors dinged is lessened by 50%.

Not only did someone park in this spot … but they parked so crooked, their front bumper was right up against the line for the next spot (which was open and my usual second choice). This person drives a TINY Prius … (Don’t even get me started, because 99% of the time, my road rage includes a Prius).

I still parked in the spot because all the others were taken and really didn’t want to go across the street into the boonies (at night it’s pretty creepy and very poorly lit). But REALLY?! How inconsiderate do you have to be? You can clearly tell you’re all ass-backward crooked and you don’t fix yourself? It takes a minute MAX (which is still stretching it) to right the car. It’s just a dick-ass-move … and I know the person and they really are a b.i.t.c.h. so it’s not surprising.

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