Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Dear Marianna

    Inspired by this link Dear Sugar which my step brother Chris shared with me ( Dog and Pony Show. Click it and check 'em out ).  I decided to make this post into a type of read and response.  I had emailed Marianna ( Twitter Link ) my blog post draft, hoping for some writer advice on how I could improve my short piece.  Not only did I find her email useful, I thought it was very inspiring. 

Here is the work I would have titled "Well I Guess This Is Growing Up" :

Light in one hand, pure darkness in the other. I look down at my bruised and bitten legs. They're much like the angsty teenage soul that still clings to me. Bruised by other souls, bitten by a monster I like to call negativity. With teeth so sharp they could slice off your fingers just as smooth as they would butter. I'm an adult now, 18 years old, aren't I? No, wrong. I'm a kid. Though I am handed adult responsibilities.  My soul is disabled as are my legs. I cannot face things independently if my insides are destroyed. Though all of us are expected to move along. We are expected to face the downfalls and the uplifting events. Sometimes there might be another soul to mingle with your own for awhile. Other times you and your soul are left completely alone. So alone there's only darkness, nothing to touch, see, smell or taste. So very alone that there is nothing. Okay, now what do you do when you find yourself destroyed in the darkness without a thing to keep you company? I don't think anyone really knows the exact answer to that question. My guess is we wait, we wait or we try to stand even if it pains us. Even if we contain only doubt and no thought of ever making it through. My guess is, this is growing up

In response Marianna wrote :

 "I think this is a good look into what we face as we grow up. In a way, even at 31, I still feel some of these reflections ring true for me, so it's a bit of a timeless reflection. You may have these kinds of thoughts even ten years from now. 
In terms of the post itself, you may be able to explore a little more of what you mean by the darkness. The challenge, I think, is this: Darkness has no form or definition. It can be whatever you want it to be, which is why horror is so successful. Darkness is different for everyone. For some, it can be the lack of certainty and a symbol of great fear. Because of course, when things are illuminated, we can better make our way around because we can see what is ahead of us. So I think you have the opportunity here to directly share that the darkness is probably the uncertainty of what lies ahead of you.  But darkness can also be the state in which you exist on a daily basis, and that's a little more destructive for some folks. If you carry darkness inside of you every day, then it doesn't matter what lies ahead because you will always be shrouded from seeing it while others might have a fine view of things.
As a writer, you have the chance here to really work with the darkness and explore it. Even if it means not being able to see with your eyes, you can tap into a different vision, one that comes from your gut. One that is fueled by your emotions because even sadness can be something that gives you strength."

Even sadness can be something that gives you strength.  A wonderful line that simply explains the backbone to my interest in becoming a writer.  Thank you all who've read any of my posts.  Any audience member is greatly appreciated.  

Friday, May 17, 2013

A Bit Of Fiction A Bit Of My Reality ( This may not make sense to you )

 My darkness is here to visit yet again.  She comes and goes often but each time she stays, the lengths of her visits vary.  She comes and goes as she pleases, like seasons, or gusts of wind, or the cat on my porch who wants to be fed  She eats up depression and sad thoughts, however if there is nothing left to feed on, that doesn't stop my darkness from getting her way.  She washes over me with feelings of loneliness, self loathing, and regret. She brings along unpleasant memories and reminders of chances I've missed.  I am submerged in her, like a strawberry coated with dark rich chocolate.  I am her strawberry, she is my shell.

She doesn't taste like chocolate though, she tastes like cigarettes and smells like dirt.  I am reminded of bad choices but also reminded of rebellion.  She is a nauseating feeling but despite all that she is and all that she brings I am in fact in touch with her, my darkness.  Though she comes and goes on her own terms I am able to grasp her.  I am able to embrace her in all that she brings.  I wish I was as musical as you are, maybe I'd be able to scream out lyrics that match the feelings.  I would strike the keys on my piano, hard and overbearing, as hard as my hands will let me push. Push, pushing.  Pushing out through my fingers the trapped anxieties and negative energy.

Though I have gotten used to this frequent darkness, she is only a guest.  A temporary black shawl draped along my insecure shoulders.  Her motivation is me and her ongoing goal is isolation.  Isolation of all things, leaving me with only my mind and herself.  Forcing me only to see evil and black.  As I said, I am able to grasp her.  I think I've learned how to take advantage of this bitch of a thing.  I use her when I write, making my words come alive.  Alive with darkness but still alive.  They live here on these posts and in the pages of my worn journals.  As I type these words or as I write them onto pages, bits of her, bits of my darkness are pinned down with them.  So, as readers read my words, they will feel what I am trying to convey, if they know how to feel.  Do you feel her? Do you feel the darkness in these words? She is here in them, I promise you.  She is here because she has been here all week.  I am disposing her now, in these words.  It's a wonderful thing though, I dispose of her but she is not trash, she is in my creations.  She is my words.  She is my darkness.  She forces me to feel pain, though no one wants to feel any pain, I can at least say I've experienced a truthful kind.  I can feel for other creators who push their darkness into their creations.  I can feel for them, I sense their passion, it must match mine if I can sense their darkness.  Passion is what fuels me though, not my darkness.  My passion is the thing that gives me a never ending ride, which I love to take.  When you ride with passion you will never run out of gas.  The bitch, my evil darkness, she also comes for the ride when she visits.  However she is just an unscrupulous hitch hiker with whom I share the ride, she can sometimes make things a bit more interesting but I know she is not here to stay.

So I enjoy my ride.  I use what I can to create.  Fueled by passion.  I try to use anything else thrown at me as an advantage to my creator self. Don't be scared of your darkness.  Use her to your advantage, make her your motivation, and with that I think we could do anything we wanted.

Sunday, May 5, 2013

Me Minus Four Years

Ah four years ago I was a wee little freshman making her way to a whole new world/ hell called high school.  It's a lovely thing to be able to say I'm graduating in about two months.  I am so ready to get the F@%$ out of that school.  Who was the first person to say high school is the best years of your life? Who?! Who said it?!  Because they are so wrong.  High school is a time of big changes (I'm not talking about puberty).  We change as people.  While being a student all four years we slowly grow and mature into young adults, well most of us do.  There are a handful that either never make it out or still have the mentality of a 12 year old.  However the changing isn't the part that makes high school suck so bad.  It's the fitting in, staying cool, staying unnoticed, keeping a friend, getting away from a friend, learning that it's not okay to get caught cutting class, or realizing that everyone you know smokes and drinks.

It's like we have to go through all this bullshit before we can enter the adult world.  The bullshit molds us into grown ups. At least that's how I see it.  I've been through my fair share of bullshit and I know it's changed me for the better.  (I don't think the bullshit ever really stops, we just learn how to deal with it better).  However some of the changing we do is sometimes on our own.  We start to realize things like that boy didn't deserve me, or I don't want to be friends with someone who will bring me down in life. As much as high school does suck we need it.  We need to go to those pointless classes, we need to socialize with the people we'd rather hide from or shove in a locker.  We learn how to be people, how to be the kind of people we want to be and that's important.  Could you imagine if that stage of life was removed?  As messed up as society is today it would probably be a lot worse without high school.

I don't mean to give it hype and say high school is great because that doesn't change the embarrassment, awkwardness, and strange curiosities.  Here's a funny story : I had these shoes that were a little ridiculous.  They were converse but they went all the way up to my knees.  They looked like these :

They're called Extra High Tops.  I wore them everyday and everywhere.  I thought I was the coolest because no one else had them.  But after two years (yes it took me two years to realize I looked strange with those shoes on), I stopped wearing them.  Then I noticed other girls started wearing them and it became a kind of a trend.  I felt proud, but also proud I was passed that stage of "look at my crazy shoes I'm different and original!".  We all go through many stages in high school in order to realize things for ourselves.  If I could go back in time and tell myself not to buy those shoes because I'd eventually hate them I would, but younger Jess would probably still buy them anyway. High school kids are such rebels.  Who can blame us though? It feels great to go against society's norms and break a few rules. You've all done it. 

You want to know a secret? I can't bring myself to get rid of those shoes. They still have a home in the back of my closet, and I'll never forget how I felt when I wore them.

Friday, May 3, 2013

Straight from my Journal

I'm feeling slightly inspired and slightly poetic.  I've read a few things that have given me much thought today.  Things that surprised me, things I didn't think I would come across.  I feel indifferent and quiet.  I am listening to the sounds outside my window.  A car flies by making the air move about.  A swoosh or a zoom makes it's way through my open window and into my ears.  Ears so tired, they do not want to listen they want to hear nothing but silence, nothing but my own heart beating.  

A bird chirping confidently loud on the tree which has newly bloomed flowers.  Flowers so white, the tree looks covered in snow.  I sit, and I think.  I think about the day that has passed and I think about what awaits me tomorrow.  The bird chirps again, only he is joined by a second.  Back and forth they sing, communicating something pleasant.  They live right there, outside my window together.  I think.  I think about the sounds and the silence.  I think about the words I write.  Are they great? Are they good enough? Are they not even worth a glance?

I'm uncomfortable, I get up.  What do I feel? I unbutton my jeans and toss them over my piano.  
"I should practice a tune", I think to myself.
"No. I'll do that later", I think again.
Of course "later" is a black hole filled with the unfinished and the socks that are missing their partner.  It is 6:05 pm the sun is in perfect position to beat down on my cherry wood floors, which are never shiny but not quite dull.  I stand in the rays of light, letting my bare legs soak up the sun's heat that enters my lonely room.  I am also lonely.  I'd like to meet another lonely soul on this evening.  I wonder if his loneliness could possibly diminish mine.  The sun's warmth is nice but not comforting enough to stay with it.

Opening my dresser drawers I search for my best pair of sweats.  They are black and fit me just right, not baggy like the others.  They are my only sweats that don't drag across the floor under my feet, as I walk to the kitchen in the middle of the night for some tea.  I am short.  

I am still thinking, not about my sweatpants or my late night tea.  I lay on my bed with Muffin who is sprawled out over the end of my bed.  Taking up the space where I'd rest my feet.  She is sleeping silently, so quiet you'd never know she existed.  I wonder what she dreams.  

It feels like spring today, I think.  It feels peaceful and soothing.  There are sounds that sound but they are far away.  Far out of my world.  I am focused on the tiny dust particles that float around in the sun's gentle rays.  Where have they been? Where will they land? They make me feel sleepy as I watch them.  Floating and floating, moving around in the air as if it was water.  I wish I could be as light as they are.  I'd want to float like they do in the sunlight.  I wonder where the wind would take me.
I think again.
And again I think.

What did I do today? What else did I think about today? Mistakes and regrets.  Fun memories and past, absent friends.
I think about this journal, about writing, my future, people I've known.  This will all be different soon.

I think.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013


I find it appealing when people have such a strong passion for something.  That something could be anything from a sport to a person to a book to some strange hobby that no one has ever heard of.  It's not the "something" I'm interested in, it's the passion a person holds for that something.  Maybe someone who stands by an idea or a project even when it looked like things wouldn't be successful, or someone who loves uni-cycling.  The determination and strong emotion for something you love.  The drive in people to do what they want, what they love, is what I mean by passion.

Everyone should have that passion in their life.  Even if its just one thing or a variety of different things.  I believe that drive is important.  We need something to keep us going, something that gets us out of bed every morning.  Maybe you just love to drive in your car or care for your pets, or maybe you're a doctor and saving lives is your passion.  Whatever it is, we need that thing that sets our hearts on fire.  Life loses a lot of quality without it.

So I'm here today, typing up my first blog post, continuing to do what I love to do.  Writing.  It doesn't mean I'm good at it and it doesn't mean I expect a large amount of followers, it means I'm here to write. So pursue your passion along with me.