Category Archives: Writing

Do you ever feel like you’re just the worst,

The absolute worst, and nobody’s first,

Their choice, the one to choose

When it all falls down,

The one they can’t lose?

Advertisements

Philando Castile.

Another name to add to the list, a list comprised of names of people who I should know nothing of.

They were normal,

Guilty of daring to live in a white man’s world.

Nothing more.

I am so sickeningly accustomed to this now. I see how it will play out. Anger, a demand for action, no charges filed.

And then it will happen again. 

As long as bigots are allowed to don a uniform and have authority, this will always happen.

There will always be another Alton Sterling. Another Eric Garner. Another Michael Brown.

We must not abide this. Or their blood is on our hands as well.

We must not abide.


I know you won’t believe me
I’ve said it all before
But please just stand beside me
As I weather through this storm

She’s gone, gone, gone
That girl I used to be
And now I’m just a shadow
Of me

But this time, I swear I’ll change
I’ll never be the same
I’ll figure out how to be
Everything you need of me
This promise isn’t empty anymore

I can’t live like this
Guess I never could
It’s easy to pretend
My mask is just that good

I fooled you once
But now you know
You see the truth
I watch you go

She’s gone, gone, gone
And now you finally see
That I’m nothing but a shadow
Of that girl I used to be


I’ve Been Considering Magic and Mayhem

My first attempt at NaNoWriMo in November was a complete disaster. I only met my goal the first two days and wound up with a measly 5,000 words. I’ve been trying to build on that starting point and have been failing.

It’s more than a bit ridiculous. I’ve been working on the skeleton of this story for over a year now and have yet to make any decent headway in actually getting the damn thing written.

It’s the lulls between the exciting stuff that I seem to have trouble with, which makes sense. I just wish I could write like I used to in school. It seemed so much easier back then because I had class and things I really didn’t want to do, and writing and reading were these amazing escapes for me. They’re still an escape, but…I don’t know. Everything about me is different now.

But I need to finish this story. And I need to write the two sequels. Because I’ve never stuck with an original story this long and because my life will never be what I want it to be and writing is all I have. And it matters to me. And the characters matter.

Le sigh. There are entire universes inside my head and I can’t even begin to write them all down.