Nolan’s Final Essay

I was truly unprepared to feel any feels this morning when I read this. I hadn’t even finished my coffeh, and was still half asleep.

Today’s youth often gets a bad rap, but this essay by a 14-year old boy about heroism is proof that not all American youth has been tainted by our often lackluster society. The story that accompanies the essay, however, is truly heartbreaking and involves a situation I just can’t make myself think about.

This post will make you smile, and could also make you cry. However it affects you, it’s a must-read.

Please head over and show this incredibly brave mother some love.

Living Between Breaths

Today I decided to move mountains. Literally. My desk is a huge mountain of papers that I do my best to avoid. I took a big step about 2 months ago and bought a new desk calendar. You may remember from a previous entry that I haven’t been able to change the calendar on my desk from the July 2014 one. I’m still working on the aptly named “Extract Head from Ass” project of cleaning off my desk and dining room table. I was making headway until I bought that stupid new calendar. I put it on my desk, on top of that mountain, and proceeded to avoid it like the plague. Shortly thereafter, DH informs me that another letter came in from one of Nolan’s donor recipients and he put it on my desk. That pretty much made my entire office off-limits. I couldn’t even look at it when…

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PEOPLE LIKE ME

I don’t often reblog. It feels dirty to repost someone else’s work on my own blog without their permission. Luckily, the way it works on WordPress is that only a 100 or so of the other’s words show on your blog, followed by a link to the original post.

I’m reblogging this post because it so accurately captures what writing means to me. I didn’t start blogging as an emotional outlet used to vanquish my demons, but that’s how it’s ended up.

I relate to so much of this. Much of the reason I neglected to treat me depression for so long was because I felt weak, and thought I should be strong enough to deal with it on my own. I, like many other people, thought it was simply a mind-over-matter thing. Guess what? It’s not.

As much as some people would like to think you can “fake it ’til you make it,” that’s simply not how it works. No matter how much you may try to cover up your depression it never goes away. Faking happiness doesn’t alter the chemical imbalance in your brain. You can hide it among the skeletons in your closet, but it’s still there looming over you like a rain cloud on a sunny day, poised to let loose on you at a most inconvenient time.

I, like Hasty, have found value and therapy in writing. Writing my feelings out is like an exorcism for my negative emotions. Like there’s a hole in the bottom of the baggage holding all of my angst and feelings of worthlessness. The more I write the more negative emotions seep through that hole and dissipates into the emotional ether. Or wherever stupid feelings go to die.

I highly encourage anyone who is struggling emotionally to write, whether or not you think you have a talent for it. What a poem. Write a story. Write a journal. Do it publicly. Do it privately. It doesn’t matter. Just do it.

HASTYWORDS

There are some things we just have to experience to understand.

I couldn’t stand listening to them whine. My classmates, my co-workers, my friends and my family coming to me and sucking my positive energy dry. Those with so called “depression” were always so negative and I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand. I am ashamed of myself for not understanding.

I didn’t understand that depression wasn’t a mood or a frame of mind. I didn’t understand that my loved ones weren’t wallowing in self-pity. I was angry every time one of them attempted suicide or succeeded in killing themselves. I was angry at how selfish they had to have been to think only of themselves, to “take the easy way out”. I am ashamed of myself for not understanding.

I remember lying in bed one night with thoughts flying through my head faster than I could grab them. One night…

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Coming Soon

There are a handful of authors whose work I utterly adore. I know no matter what they write I will love it. Some of those authors include Harlan Coben, Steve Berry, Timothy Zahn, Michael Chrichton (RIP), Michael Stackpole, Aaron Allston, and Michael Connelly.

There is another author, however, whom you may have never heard of whose every word I greedily consume like a kid eats Choco Pebbles. That author is Helena Hann-Basquiat.

Helena, and her alter-ego Jessica B. Bell, write stories more addictive than coffee, and you all know how much I love my coffeh. While Helena’s writing is more lighthearted and humorous, Jessica’s is dark and twisted. No matter which author you read, the stories are captivating, well-written, and uniquely creative.

Halloween is Jessica’s Christmas, and Jessica has some haunting events planned for the week before Halloween. I highly encourage you all to head over to Helena’s place and click the follow button so you can partake in the madness.

Also, check out her writing while you’re there. I have no doubt you’ll be as impressed as I am with her prose.

Miles to Go

I found a new partner to duet with! The amazingly talented Laura Ashley Lord approached ME and asked to write with me. Folks, when a writer/poet as talented as Laura approaches you it’s an amazing feeling.

Please check out what I think turned out to be an amazing poem. Also, kindly click on the FOLLOW button while you’re over there. Laura writes fabulous poetry and captivating flash fiction. Her blog is a must read.