Category Archives: Personal

Lanes

Time to take another break from fiction for today. On my way home from work, I saw a sign that read, “If everything is coming your way, you’re probably in the wrong lane.” The more I thought about it, the more  I realized the depth behind it, as it’s a rather multi-faceted saying. It can apply to both the good and the bad in life.

When most people read or hear the above quote, they most likely think it’s referring to the good things of life. Now, don’t get me wrong. Blessings are wonderful things. And I don’t think many of us would still be here if our lives were only negative, all the time. Positives, I do believe, are a must. But what happens when only positive things come our way?

There’s that saying of “too much of a good thing can be bad.” I believe it. Because, if there’s only good, what do we learn? Most life lessons come from experiencing the bad circumstances. In my opinion, how we face and overcome the negative helps shape who we are and will ultimately become. We learn nothing when only good happens to us.

Another bad thing to only receiving the positive side of life is the false sense of security that comes with it. Unfortunately, we are creatures of habit. We fall into routines. Again, blessings are not bad things, but if we never face trials, we never expect them. If I only have good things come my way, why would I think that anything bad could happen to me? Which also leads us to viewing the world through rose-tinted glasses, and we forget that evil exists.

But then comes the flip side of the above quote. The bad things in life. While the ideal world is a perfect world, I think bad things are a necessary evil at this point. We do reap what we sow. And more often than not, we need that harvest to keep ourselves in check. So what does happen when only negative things come our way?

Well, I think this one is a bit more self-explanatory than the positive side. For the most part, I think the negative experiences are crucial teaching tools. Yet, we’ll never remember what we learn if we’re not given time to rest and reflect. Constantly being berated by life wears us out more than anything. If we lose the mental capacity to live, much less think over situations, we still aren’t going to learn anything.

Another negative to the the negative–it often leads to depression. Whether or not people want to admit it. If there’s no light at the end of the tunnel, why would we continue? Again, creatures of habit. We get stuck. Lost in ruts. To the point where it’s not worth even looking for a way out. It is extremely taxing on the psyche. If I’m only receiving negatives, I’m not going to expect positives, and I’m going to stay where I am. We give up.

Regardless of how we view the above quote, I think it comes down to a few questions. What are we doing that’s keeping us in one lane? Or, what choices are we making that’s keeping us in one lane? What are we choosing that’s keeping us strictly in the positive lane? What are we choosing that’s keeping us strictly in the negative lane? Everything comes down to a choice.

And it’s okay. It’s okay to experience the negative, even if all you’ve known is positive. It’s okay to experience the positive, even if all you’ve known is negative. Sadly, our world is not perfect. But balance can be achieved. Good and bad go hand-in-hand. We just have to choose to find the balance, to stay in the middle of the two lanes.

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Quick Update

I thought I would take a second to give you all a quick update. I know I’ve been posting more photography than writing lately. I’ve been working through a few health issues, and let’s be honest, photos from my computer’s library of the years I’ve been taking pictures are much easier to upload than writing a story or poem.

But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing at all. I officially only have one scene left to rewrite of my young adult novel. Because the rewriting process has removed a chunk of my word count, there are a handful of scenes that I can add back in that I took out what seems like ages ago but will help my story’s flow overall. Then I’ll be ready to move onto the editing stage. So that’s been really exciting for me.

Just so you can get a peek into how my brain works, the short stories and poems that I put on this blog are never really…planned. They just come to me. Usually, the first line is inspired by an event, something in nature, an interaction, or just something my mind decided to make up. The rest follows. None of my short stories or poems have a designated “end,” so I’m just as surprised as you guys are to how they play out. And that’s one of the things I love about writing them. They’re spur of the moment things I have to get down then share with my readers. It’s fun for me, and I hope it’s fun for you.

Long story short, please don’t think I’m abandoning this blog, or I’m only going to be posting photography from now on. I will have more short stories and poems when I can focus more on the things around me. They will come. Inspiration is everywhere and never runs out. But I thought I would let everyone know what was going on.

Always remember to keep your imagination. For you never know the crazy places it will take you.

–Rose


Wonder Woman

Wonder Woman

In celebration of seeing Wonder Woman, I decided to share this piece I drew back in 2012, during my first semester of college. It was the first project my drawing class had been assigned. The task was to draw something we felt represented ourselves, our style, and our inspiration. I chose to recreate a picture done by Jim Lee, one of my favorite DC Comics artists.

Wonder Woman has always been more than just a comic book character to me. Outside of my mom, she was the only real female figure I had. And she taught me many things. True strength comes from within, not from your muscles. No matter what size I am, I can still do anything I set my mind toward. All I need is love, compassion, and the courage to be myself. And lastly, I don’t have to be Wonder Woman to be a wonderful woman.

I won’t lie. I cried quite a bit when I saw the Wonder Woman movie. One of my childhood icons was now more than animated character or a drawing on a page. She was on a big screen in live action. She became real. That movie was everything I could have asked for and more. I was so happy to see my hero, that I couldn’t help but cry.

This is one of the things I love about books/comics/TV shows/video games/movies, etc. Usually, everyone finds their hero. That one character that stands out the most to them. The one that connects with them the most. People learn from these characters, are inspired to be their best by these characters. The list could go on.

I know there’s a difference between the real world and fantasy. I am not blind to my everyday responsibilities. But whether it’s reading a book or comic to forget myself for a little while, whether it’s playing a video game to release my frustration, whether it’s writing stories or poems to vent my feelings, fiction does help me get through this thing we call life. Just as music does. Just as chatting with family and friends does. And Wonder Woman? Well. She’s an aspect of fiction that’s helped me the most.


May the Fourth Be With You

I’m going to take a step away from the fantasy worlds today and reflect. Today is International Star Wars Day! “May the Fourth Be With You.” We also can’t forget about “Revenge of the Fifth.” More importantly, it marks the two-year anniversary that I’ve been with my wonderful soulmate and life-long love. My husband is everything I could’ve asked for and more. Yes, we got married on May fourth because of Star Wars. Yes, we’re huge nerds. But we wouldn’t change a thing.

In all honesty, we haven’t had the easiest first two years of marriage. Life has been throwing more than just crap at us, but we’ve been trudging along. Together. While we may still be in the “honeymoon stage,” we’ve never taken an official honeymoon. Instead, we’ve been saving for our future. Which has been able to buy us a house and provide a new car when one broke down a few months ago. Let me tell you, we need a vacation!

We’ve already seen each other at our worst. There have been many hard days. We get stressed out from work, from the things we’ve been dealing with, and sometimes, we take it out at each other. It’s what happens to anyone who lives with another person. Thankfully, communication is one of the key things we remember, and we always end up talking things out and coming to an understanding. Said talking usually ends up leading to nerd theories and such, once we’ve made up. So many good movies! So many theories!

We’ve also seen each other at our best. We’ve gotten to celebrate many things together. He got a promotion only six months after being at his new job. I was finally able to get out of the customer service desk and work more “behind the scenes” at my job. We’ve adopted a kitten from the Humane Society. It would take more than our combined fingers and toes to count the blessings we’ve received. And it can only get better. Of that, I am certain. We work extremely well together, and we communicate about everything. I mean everything! Anything from fears to bathroom habits to money to our nightly dreams. But if we can’t be honest with each other, than who can we be honest with?

My husband has been an incredible addition to my life. He supports everything I do. Becoming a published author is very important to me, and he works his butt off at a full time job, even getting promoted, so I can remain part time. I put in my four hours a day, five days a week, then come home to work on my writing. Or drawing. Or cleaning. He made his own blog page to like the posts I put on my blog. If nobody else likes it, he always does. It’s all I need.

He also has a heart of gold. Whenever I get sick from my medicine or have such a bad migraine that I can’t get out of bed, he cooks and cleans and makes sure I’m as comfortable as I can be. He gives himself 110% and never complains about it. He does everything he can to make me happy, never asking for anything in return. Now, I know there are times when I can take that for granted, but you have no idea how thankful I am for him. He’s always there for me. Even when he’s had a bad day at work, he consistently puts my needs above his.   

There are times where he can come across as a perpetually sarcastic person, but our relationship with each other can be sarcastic. Ask the people I work with. They can tell you from the times he’s come to visit me. But we know each other better than anyone. And the best part of that? We’re still learning about each other. Every day, we’re learning more about subtle hints in expressions or tones. Every day, we’re learning to see through the mask we try to put on for the sake of the other. Every day, we have to remind ourselves that a relationship takes work from both sides of the party. We’re learning we work best as a team. And like a machine missing an important part, we’re learning just how badly we can fail without each other.

Don’t mistake me for giving relationship  or marital advice. I am very aware that two years is not a long time for a marriage. We are still young and naive about many things when it comes to “adulting.” But I also know more seasoned adults don’t have life figured out. Again, it’s a learning process. Constantly. However, I’m just glad I have someone I know I can depend on to help me through the fire. He’s right there with me, every step of the way. Even when I want to be stubborn and turn a blind eye to his presence. Pride can be a roadblock on many accounts.

I could keep going on and on, but I guess what all this is trying to say is that I am married to the most perfect man for my life. I know it’s only been two years, but we’re going for forever. We’ve been through some insanely hard times already, and we haven’t given up yet. We’ve grown closer together, and we’ve grown stronger as a team. We have stood life’s ugly head in the face and cried “Come get some!” with weapons drawn. I love my husband more than anything, and I couldn’t ask for more. Even if we were to be left with nothing, we would still have each other, whether physically or spiritually. It’s been two years, so far. Here’s to infinite more.


Inspiration/Motivation

Excuse me for a moment while I take a break from fiction. Recently, I’ve been asked what my motivation is for writing. I had never been asked this before, and I really had to think about my answer. What did I use for motivation? Did I have motivation? When I asked myself that question, all I could think of was not really. But then I second-guessed that response. I had to have motivation, right? Then, I wondered, what if I didn’t have to have a specific motivation? Sometimes, I write for the sake of writing. Certainly that’s good enough.

Writing has been my passion since I was a little kid. I used to enter into poetry contests and wrote my first “novel” before I was twelve. By “novel,” I mean I filled up a wide-ruled notebook with one, consectutive story. I still have that notebook. It’s very dear to me. One day, I would like to turn it into a children’s book. But writing, like drawing, has been something I’ve just done. Even still, I just…do. I write. I guess passion is my motivation?

Granted, I’m not perfect. There are days when I simply don’t feel like writing. Did I ever mention I’m a procrastinator? I’m a huge procratinator. I love Fallout 4 and Skyrim. Napping is also a favorite hobby of mine. It’s no secret the internet is a glaring distraction. But I usually come back to writing. I feel weird when I don’t write. Like a part of me is missing.

I will say having this blog helps. People follow me, like my posts, comment on them. I’m obligated to provide content. In a good way. It give me a purpose to my short stories and poems. Even my pictures. There are many days where all I write is a short story or poem. Some days, I don’t work on my novel. But I know the key is writing. Every published author I’ve seen or read about all say the same thing: Write. No matter what it is, write.

Now, as far as my novel goes, that can become tricky. It’s my first one, so I don’t have a contract or deadline. I actually abandoned it for over a year. I’ve been working on it since 2012. It’s gone through about five plot changes, and I still can’t come up with a suitable title. I won’t lie. It gets old sometimes. I picked it back up last summer. Currently, I’m close to finishing the revision stage, and it will be off to editing. Knowing it’s so close to completion is encouraging.

However, I can’t force myself to work on it. Not when I can take my time and make sure my debut novel is, as I deem, perfect. In my opinion, you can tell when writing is forced. It’s awkward, stale, dead. Stories and characters are meant to be free, to evolve. Writers don’t control characters or ideas; they guide them. But that’s a soapbox for a different time.

I am a huge believer in muses and the power of music. I know what type of music will put me in the zone. I know what will pull me out. Headphones are amazing. I’m also always searching. Searching for that one creative detail in the world that I can shape into a work of art. To me, that’s what creative people do. Show the world how we see it. That’s how we get so many different styles. It’s everyone’s perspectives.

You could say I work more from inspiration rather than motivation, I suppose. Inspiration is everywhere. Motivation is something I have to control. I don’t have good control. I’m also a thinker. I spend so much time thinking about something, I never do what I’m supposed to be doing. It’s why I can’t think about my writing too much. When I do, I don’t get any writing done.

My stories and poems are never “planned.” I think of the first one or two lines then just let go and write. The words flow on their own. The story shapes itself. I have no idea when or how they will end. I never know what message will come out of it, even when I want them to have a particular meaning. Though, they typically end dark or depressing. I wonder what that says about me, then…? Regardless, I’m sure you understand my point.

In fact, I’m not entirely sure what my point to this was. I think I got completely off-track. I’m more of a listener in real life. I only talk a lot to people I really know. But put pen and paper in front of me, and I never shut up. I honestly don’t know if there was a point. I’ll chalk it up to getting my thoughts out. They ususally won’t leave me alone until I write them down. None of this probably made any sense, but maybe someone can take something from it. Thank you for bearing this post with me.


One Hundred Thank Yous!

Yesterday, I reached 100 followers! And all I can say is thank you! To me, 100 seems like such a huge number. I get excited every time someone follows my blog. You can ask my husband. When I started this blog, I didn’t, and I still do not have, the intentions of only making content that would draw in large numbers so I could boast. I was actually extremely nervous when my friend finally convinced me to make one. It was a way for me to overcome the obstacle of putting myself out there. Of putting my writing out there. I’ve been working on a novel to be published for some time now, and I was afraid of letting even friends read my shorter works. Granted, I’m still nervous when I submit posts, but I am more open to the idea that people might like my writings.

It meant the world to me when I had eight people that were interested. Then seventeen. Then thirty two. Now, I have 101 followers. I know I can be spotty in my posts. Unfortunately, I let life get in the way some times. Yet, 101 people stick with me. This is all because of you–the readers. I cannot thank you enough. I do not take a single one of you for granted. I am just still astounded that 100 people are interested in my work, whether it be short stories, poems, or pictures.

Seriously, thank you. For the follows, the likes, the feedback. It means quite a bit to me that I can write something that’s meaningful to me, and it can be meaningful to others. All I’ve wanted to do with my writing is inspire people. Make them think. Explore their own imagination. Possibly even help them deal with feelings they struggle with. And, as an introvert that uses a pen name to take shelter behind…thank you. I cannot say it enough.

 

Always remember to keep your imagination. For you never know the crazy places it will take you.

-Rose


Forgiveness

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I sat on my bedroom floor, curled up in a corner. Everything falling apart. Tears flooded my face. I was a bad person. I didn’t deserve to be on this Earth anymore. My knuckles turned white around the knife. I would be doing the world a favor if I left. I caused more harm than good by being here. No one would miss me. Everyone would be better off without me.

Throwing my head back into the wall, my chest rose and fell with hard sobs. My body trembled. I looked down at the knife in my hand. It wouldn’t go anywhere. But I needed to go. What purpose did I have on this planet? After all the bad things I’ve done…how could anyone forgive me? Everyone simply acted like they loved me. Nobody needed me. Nobody wanted me.

I didn’t even want myself. I hated me. And if I hated me, certainly everyone else did. I was so pathetic, I couldn’t even make myself bleed. There was no controlling the snot mingling with tears on my face. I was a mess. Had always been a mess. I screwed up everything. Never made anyone happy. Never let myself be happy. All I did was ruin everything. I needed to go.

But I never could go. I watched the knife shake in my hand for an hour. It never went anywhere. It stayed in my sweaty grasp. My depressed sobbing had turned into cries of anger. Why couldn’t I die? Why did I need to live? What purpose did I have other than torturing myself? Could I wish myself away? Could I will myself to death? The knife wasn’t doing me any good. My body went limp from exhaustion. What was I even doing here?

Then I heard something other than the voices in my head. I heard soft crying. I blinked back pooled tears. On the other side of my room was a little girl. Her knees up to her chin, head in her arms. She looked familiar to me. Behind her played blurry, one-sided and biased events. My wall had become a projection screen for her past. Though her past wasn’t quite clear. Sniffing, I rose.

“Don’t you see?” she screamed. “Don’t you see how bad of a person I am?” The events slowly became clearer. “Dont’ you see what I’ve done? I’m a bad person. Nobody loves me. How can anybody love me?”

I swallowed. Beginning to understand. Those events…I remembered them as clear as day. Her past was mine. Everything I had done. Everything that caused me so much anxiety. Everything I couldn’t forgive myself for. All the reasons why I hated myself. My eyes darted over the various incidents. Brimming with tears again until they overflowed. “Can’t you see how bad I am?” she pressed. “I’m a terrible person.”

Dropping down next to her, I held her in my arms. Buried my head in hers. My heart ached for this little girl who carried so much weight. “No…” I barely managed talking through my crying. Squeezed her tighter. “All of those things…just because you did something wrong doesn’t make you a bad person.” I choked. “You’re not evil. You are loved. I love you. And even if nobody else does, I-I…forgive you. I forgive you for the things you’ve done.”

Her head lifted, glistening eyes meeting mine. “Then you have forgiven yourself.” I blinked. “What?” But I studied her. That was why she looked familiar. She was me. The part of my soul I kept buried in guilt and shame. I couldn’t stop crying. It was all sinking in. She smiled. “I am you, and you have forgiven me. You have finally forgiven yourself. You no longer need to carry the hatred for yourself.”

She radiated warmth while I sat in stunned silence. Tears stopped raining down. My heart no longer hurt, and my soul felt lighter. What happened? I looked at the knife on the floor. No longer wishing to take my own life. I blinked again. It had been years of not letting go. And…it was this hard but also this easy all along? She suddenly burst into thousands of glowing particles and absorbed into me. “I forgive you,” she whispered, “I love you. You have forgiven yourself. You have set yourself free.” I whispered back, “I am free.”


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