Chrysalis of a
writer– where every penned word
bleeds from her black soul
The cold, sinking, sickening feeling sweep through my body.
My palms, sweaty. The pounding in my chest is making me dizzy, breathless.
It’s that knowing that there are things you can’t control, or things you just don’t want to face or deal with yet…
Why can’t it all just go away? Why can’t I hide in that recess of my mind where everything’s sunny and happy? Where the responsibilities and burdens are not pressing down on me so that I’m unable to breathe or function?
Oh, how I long for the days of innocence! When the evils of this world haven’t touched me yet. When life was blissful, and I was so naïve.
Where has she gone? Will I ever find her again?
Do I want to?
Time keeps marching forward. The world passing by as I sit here at the window, watching out.
The desire to interact long gone.
Here, where I sit, familiarity’s my friend, my comfort.
The unknown. The pain of the past.
My heart’s splintering as my mind. Torn between wanting to remain here, and stepping out there.
Freedom. Oh to be free.
The better question is–to be freed of what?
*This post for the monthly IWSG is a bit late but hey, better late than never!
From where I’m sitting, it’s the 4th of July. The house is quiet. My guys are off in New York for another week so I have the place all to myself.
Now, it’s just a matter of getting myself focused enough to work on a few projects that I know I should be working on.
Alas, distractions abound!
The silence is too loud. The house too empty.
So, I’ve been binging on rom-com movies as well as all of the Jaws films. Oh, and don’t forget the Bourne’s saga.
And the few times I did manage to sit my butt down, the cats acted up.
Meaning, they’ve been staging break-outs by busting through the window screens in the sunroom. And I mean, they destroyed all three screens! I was so livid.
How do I explain this to hubby?
Anyhoo, I’ve spent at least two to three hours of my time in the past three days hunting down and rounding up the cats that did get outside. Now, I’m faced with having to keep my house closed up (and the weather’s gorgeous outdoors!) for fear of them busting through other window screens.
Distractions. And more distractions.
I’d thought that with the guys gone and my having all this abundant free time to spend on writing would enable me to be very productive.
In fact, it’s been totally the opposite!
I’m finding that having certain constraints with the guys around actually kept me more focused and in line. Being busier with life actually yielded more fruits where with too much free time and no constraints whatsoever have caused me to be so — lazy.
Now, I’m down to the last five plus days to get done what I should have been working on all along. Question is, will I be able to stay focused long enough to do it?
What about you? Does having free time inhibits your productivity rather than enhances it?
*Written for the MId-Week Flash Challenge
Our souls. Our history.
All that we ever were.
Lost in the glowing whiteness.
Will the sun ever return its gaze to the earth?
Will its heat be sufficient enough
for our re-awakening?
world’s greatest predator
the first to perish
It happened again
I feel so bruised. Battered.
Each word cutting, slashing
How one’s tongue can hold such power
More so than a hand. Yes, even more so than a sword.
I lie here, on the bed, trying to catch a breath
In between gasping sobs
I should have known better
My eyes sweep across the four walls
Their lavender-blue hues once beautiful
Now they’re nothing but bars
And I’m their prisoner
Oh how I long for freedom
To sing and to fly
However or wherever I wish
I should have known better
No sooner had I accepted the yellow ring
He clipped my radiant wings
And now I sit here like
A caged bird
With dying dreams of lofty peaks and open skies
*Author’s Note: This poem was written for the following writing challenge:
Its dark path’s a mystery
Full of hidden dangers & wonders
Concealed within the shadowy woods
They know I’ve gone astray
In my mind home’s just beyond that bend
Alas, it’s only a mirage
The mist encases each bared limb
Drowning me in despair
*Author’s Note: this poem was written for a prompt given by #BardBits on Twitter —
Write a short story or poem inspired by or using the word(s) and/or image.
It’s been nearly two weeks since I arrived at the School for the Blind for my week of training and support. I’d meant to write up a post earlier than this, but I’ve been a busy body all this past week.
A good thing really!
I have people asking me what kinds of things visually impaired adults do at the School for the Blind. This post, I hope, will answer some of their questions.
The School for the Blind in Grand Forks (North Dakota) is mostly geared for school-aged kids but the ND Vision Services offers quarterly week-long training sessions for adults at the school each year.
Awesome’s my humble opinion.
What types of training do they offer for adults?
Well, when you first express interest in attending, you have the option of selecting any of (or all) the following six types of training/support:
–Adjustment (coping skills, therapy, etc.)
–Daily Living Skills (cooking, housekeeping, organization, etc.)
–Technology (learn about all types of accessibility options with computers, phones/cells, etc.)
–Orientation/Mobility (cane training, learning skills of getting around at home or in the community, etc.)
–Vocation/Career (what’s out there for a visually impaired person, job training, career preparation, etc.)
The week began at 8:30am Monday; but first, I arrived there Sunday evening where I was greeted by the House Parent, Amy. My “room” for the week was actually an “apartment.”
The School has two “apartments” reserved for teens where they can learn Independent Living Skills. They are equipped with a full kitchen, one bedroom, full bath, living/dining room which has an extra bed and TV w/ cable. I lucked out and was assigned to one of these rooms.
During the week, there’s a House Parent on duty between 3 and 11pm, and then another one for the overnight hours until the instructors arrive usually around 7am.
Each week day began with breakfast at 8am held in the large kitchen/dining area where in order to get there from your room is by maneuvering through a series of thinly carpeted hallways (in my mind have always been a sort of maze with strange series of tiled, checkered-style blocks at certain sections throughout each hallway). But this time I learned their purpose! For an individual who’s completely/mostly blind, as he/she walks with the White Cane, each block signifies there is an office or room located at that area. And in order to know which room was which is by counting the blocks. Block #3 is the Technology room, or Block #4 is where the kitchen’s at. When you cross an extremely large block, that means you’re at an intersection where two hallways meet.
You get the idea (I hope).
At the first/initial breakfast, you’d receive your scheduled classes for the week. For this day (Monday), you’d have an instructor aiding you to each class so you’d know where it’s located. For the rest of the week, the help to each class gradually decreased until you are independently getting around to each class, meal, and your room.
This is the ultimate goal for all the training at the School…to enable a visually impaired person to become as independent and self-reliant as possible.
There are generally three classes in the morning, and three classes in the afternoon (each session is one hour long where you meet one-on-one with the instructor) running from 8:30am until 4pm with a lunch-break at 11:45.
My schedule was as followed:
8:30 Daily Living Skills
2pm Daily Living Skills
I opted out of the rest while the other attendees participated in all areas.
Dinner (set up by the House Parent) usually began around 5:45pm. The rest of the evening was your own time.
The classes were great, but for me, I absolutely enjoyed the interaction with the people (both the instructors and peers).
The first time I attended here was in June 2016 where there were seven of us total. This time there were just 3 of us.
Harley was the youngest at age 26. She completely lost her vision two years prior due to diabetes. This was her first time here.
Jewel was the oldest at 53, and as local, she’s a frequent visitor. She’s in the process of losing her sight also due to diabetes.
And of course, there was me, right smacked in the middle.
The camaraderie between the three of us was awesome and inspiring.
Just what I sorely needed.
The days were intense but fast. When Friday came, I found I wasn’t really ready to head home.
I felt safe here. I felt like I mattered. And the people I hung with truly get me whereas my family struggled to do just that.
But, I’ve learned new skills, and have been introduced to new possibilities that I’m truly excited about and hope to bring to fruition soon.
Write a micro or flash story (or if you prefer, a poem) around the following prompt:
Post your story or poem in the comment section below. Deadline: This Friday, June 14th
No minimum words but try to keep it under 750 words.
This post is for IWSG (Insecure Writer’s Support Group), and this month’s question: Of all the genres you read and write, which is your favorite to write in and why?
Right from the get-go, I’ve always been drawn to the darker sides of things. My first story I ever wrote (around eleven years old) was about a creepy house where a girl entered on a dare and discovered a decapitated head in a fridge.
Pretty morbid, eh?
So, I started with horror, then it became horror-paranormal to horror-apocalyptic, and now it’s mainly suspense. Through these genres, the common theme always centered around death.
When my cousin (and best friend at the time) Darren passed away just before our fourteenth birthdays, I was hit with the stark reality that we were not invincible or immortal. That even kids die.
Since then, I have experienced several other deaths of family members and friends. Many of them died well before they were at the peak of their lives, or even able to realized their dreams.
This have always weighed heavily on me.
And showed up in pretty much whatever I wrote be it a short story or a poem.
A loss of some form. The darkness that’s constantly there. .
I enjoy writing both horror and suspense mainly because it’s cathartic for my broken heart, and it’s my way of dealing with the pain.
What about you? What’s your favorite genre to write/read? Why? I love to know!