Jordan Antonacci's Blog, page 64

Numb to the Feeling

 

 

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My tolerance is going up

and I’m getting numb to the feeling

I’ve been abusing drugs

and I’m getting numb to the feeling

I need you to show me love

coz I’m getting numb to the feeling

I need you to ride me harder when we fuck

coz I’m getting numb to the feeling

-Chase Atlantic, Numb to the Feeling

You drink coffee every morning and suddenly one espresso no longer does the trick. You take Hydrocodone on the daily for your pain and before you know it, you’re in need of a dose increase. If you climb mountains regularly, then each peak will need to be higher and steeper than the last. If you repeat anything long enough, it won’t be long before that substance/activity stops providing the pleasure it once did, and leaves you numb. That high, that joy, that feeling of success–it’ll no longer be there to greet you. What do you do then?

I imagine it happens to everyone. It’s happening to me right now. Much like the calluses on our bare hands and feet from prolonged use. As another year of my life passes, I can’t help but look back, reflect, and wonder how so much has changed so quickly.

Somewhere through the years of the short life I’ve lived, I misplaced my zest for life. I realize I’m not the same person and I wonder why. I wonder why I’m not as happy as I once was. I wonder why the things that used to bring me pleasure now have no effect on me. Is it depression? Do our personalities just take that much damage through the natural trials and tribulations of life? I imagine there’s only so much stress someone can take before who they were becomes unrecognizable.

Or…do some simply develop a tolerance to life?

A tolerance to life.

As another year passes

I turn back to reflect

But I may need glasses

to find what I miss

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Years turn to ashes

second by second

Just like happiness

and life’s zest

But what I’ve realized

is that it’s all about time

and looking forward

Not behind

This life we’re given

Oh so short and brief

Don’t take it for granted

as it could leave in a blink

Travel and explore

Try new things

This whole world is yours

Live it like a dream

 

Hi, everyone! Happy Humpday, and I hope you’re all having a decent week so far. As for me? Eh… I think after the 22nd birthday, it all starts going downhill. Lol.

I could still use some beta readers for a couple short stories I intend to submit to a publishing house. I could also use a few more stops on a blog tour I’m putting together for the release of my mystery novel, The Killed Conscience. If interested in either, please email me at jtantonacci23@gmail.com

Anyway, thanks for reading

Get Your Shit Together

Your life is a wreck. Who’s fault is that?

Too many people seem to be living life like they’re going to live forever. Like they have all the time in the world tucked safely into their pocket and life is just some video game they have all the cheats to. So I hate to be the one to break it to you people living in your little fantasy world, but you’re not living forever. You’re going to die. And you don’t know when. So tell me: why do you insist on wasting all of your limited time?

“When I die, I wanna know that I lived for a reason.”

I’ll never understand how people can go through life doing the bare minimum, if even that. I’ll never understand why people lack the need to find meaning in life; why they have no goals, no desires, dreams or plans. They grind through their work weeks like zombies, only looking forward to Lady’s Night at the club and weekends out all night at bars. All they care about are their views on Snapchat, their likes on Instagram, and comments on Facebook.

Life is what you make it. Your problems are your own and no one else’s. The situation you’re in right now is because of you. If you think otherwise, then open your eyes and look around. Stop pointing blame. Stop waiting for something or someone to come along and save you. If there’s something in your life that you don’t like, then get up and fix it. If you want something, then go get it. It may not be easy, but nothing worth having in life comes easy.

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The job you have is the job you chose. Stop complaining and work it. If you’re going to do something then why not do your best? Show up on time. Hell, show up early. Work your hours and then some. You go to your job in a pissed off mood, get in arguments, then leave early and wonder why you’re about to get fired with an empty wallet.

“If you don’t like the job you have then what do you do it for? The cure to pain isn’t something you buy at liquor stores.”

There’s a cycle of negativity spinning all around you like a twister, and you’re the one that keeps it going. You’re the one that keeps doing the same thing over and over, yet at the same time hoping something will change. I’m pretty sure it was Einstein who said that’s the definition of insanity. Nothing will change if you don’t change it. You won’t change if you don’t. Nothing will get better, and you won’t know true happiness until you yourself set goals, make plans, and do what needs to be done.

Find your passion and put in the work. Put in the hours. You have one life and a limited amount of time that’s ticking away as I write this and as you read it. Hopefully, I’ve inspired you a little. Go get your shit together.

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Hey, everyone! Hope you’re all having a decent start to your week. As I mentioned in my last post, a publishing company has recently contacted me and requested I submit a piece of writing to them for a series they have going on. I’ve written the first draft of a short story and could use some feedback on it. If you’re interested, email me at jtantonacci23@gmail.com

Thanks for reading!

Talk soon,

Jordan Antonacci

Twitter: @misterhushhush

Birds seen flying around

“Birds seen flying around. You never see them too long on the ground; you wanna be one of them. You might hear the birds singing flying around. You never see them too long on the ground; you wanna be one of them.”

Sometimes I look around and think about how much I don’t want to be here.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. But I’m not talking about death in any way. Sometimes I just feel like there should be something more. When everything seems to be falling apart on top of my head and I’m struggling to hold it up, the days can get pretty dark, and exhausting. It’s then that I take a step back and look at the world–how it is and how we’ve made it–, and I think, I didn’t ask for this.

Life is a gift I can never repay. One with too many ties, too many promises I can’t make and too many responsibilities I can’t take. It’s like when you’re unexpectedly given a pet fish you didn’t ask for. It was a gift, so you feel obligated to feed it and keep it alive–but at the same time, you don’t want to. The fish dies rather quickly because it came with too many responsibilities you just didn’t ask for.

But then I go outside. I take a solo stroll in a place where the trees are tall and nature sings with life. It’s there that I find clarity. It’s there that I understand what’s pure. What matters. It’s there that I see the animals and the birds. They soar high above the trees and high above me. With their wings spread and flapping, they chase each other through branches and leaves. Occasionally, they’ll swoop down and land in a tree. Every so often, they’ll land on the ground, and I wonder why.

I’m probably about to sound really stupid. Bear with me. Get it? Haha…no? Okay. (That wasn’t even the stupid part.)

I understand humans are the most advanced species on Earth and I should be proud to be human (I am), but none know freedom like animals. Like birds. Sometimes I just wish to be free from the man-made responsibilities of life: the bills, deadlines, late fees, taxes, appointments, work…

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I wish to be free. Free like a bird. With the clear sky as my home and the Earth beneath my open wings. This doesn’t mean I’m about to strip off my clothes and run naked through the woods like the guy in The Animal. I’ll save that for my midlife crisis.

All of this is just a byproduct of my overthinking and stress.

Anybody feel the same?

Hi peoples! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this post. I wrote it during some breaks at work today when I was feeling a little trapped–Mondays, right? Anyway, hope you all had a great start to your week! Who’s already looking forward to the weekend?

Sincerely,

Jordan Antonacci

Twitter: @misterhushhush

 

Pressure.

Day after day, each and every one of us has to deal with pressure.

Right? I mean–unless you’re held up in a mansion on a tropical island with money shooting out of your ass, chances are you feel pressure. It’s a part of life as common and necessary as every gulp of water and every breath in your lungs. It pushes us forward and keeps us going. Without it, who knows if we’d ever reach our full potential?

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You may feel pressure over little things, like getting to work on time, asking out that cute girl, or picking a place to eat before you and your girlfriend start to argue and you get stuck eating inside fucking McDonald’s. Or you may feel the pressure of more pressing matters–like that work presentation, a bank robbery, or when a publishing house requests you submit a piece of your writing to them because they enjoyed your blog.

But, like everything else in this world, the way pressure effects us depends on how we look at it. Ultimately, it can either make us, or it can break us. So, basically, what I’m saying is, “You take the blue pill—the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill—you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. Remember: all I’m offering is the truth. Nothing more.”

Should we choose to do nothing under pressure, we will surely only grow weaker and more tired as time goes on. The pressure, however, will remain constant. On the other hand, should we embrace and accept the pressure, we can use it to grow. We can use it to expand and better ourselves. Think of pressure as your sports coach shouting at you, or those weights in the gym, demanding you lift and not drop them onto your face.

Think of it like this: you can harness the pressure, use it to your advantage, and learn to prepare a home-cooked meal in the future so you don’t get stuck eating disgusting “food” inside fucking MCDONALD’S.

“When we long for life without difficulties, remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made under pressure.”

-Peter Marshall

Yesterday morning I received an email from a publishing house requesting I submit to them. Today, I came up with several short story ideas and began writing one. Considering being a published author is a huge dream of mine, you can bet I’m feeling the pressure. Suffocating pressure. But it’s exciting. Exhilarating, really. Never been so determined to write. Let’s do this.

Dreams…Here I come.
Tips to cope:

Understand what’s causing the stress
Makes lists and prioritize
Be realistic and have limitations
Plan and organize
Be optimistic
Breathe and stay calm
Feel free to say no to certain things
Ask for help

 

Hi, everyone! Thanks for reading and I hope you liked today’s post. And congratulations, by the way–you’ve made it to the weekend

When Life Gets Good

Hi peoples,

After my last post, Black Ink and Dark Writing, I began thinking long and hard about a happy post I could write. It wasn’t that I had decided to listen to those little voices–it was just that I knew my life wasn’t strictly confined to the dark topics I wrote about. And you wanna know what came to me?

Nothing.

It wasn’t until I stopped thinking that the revelation whacked me upside the head. I felt pretty stupid because, really, it had been right in front of me the whole time. I was just looking too hard.

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So, what was it? What was this ground-breaking revelation that lead me to the keyboard with eager fingers and the long-awaited “happy” post? It was my life. It was my everyday and every breath. DUH! When I stopped and looked around, I realized my life had done a complete 360 in the last month. I realized how I’d reached an entirely different place in such a short amount of time. And it was all at the hands of none other than, ME

Black Ink and Dark Writing

This isn’t much of a blog post. Honestly, it’s more of an explanation I feel I need to get off my chest. Throughout my 10 months of blogging, I’ve been told more times than I can remember that my writing is too dark. It’s too sad, angry, scary, and twisted. I’ve been told these things by plenty of people. My own mother had to stop reading a while back because too many of my posts made her cry. (Sorry Mama). Anyway, after saying–sometimes spitting–these comments, people will then ask why. “Why do you write like this? Why don’t you write happy stuff?”

Typically, I’ll just shrug my shoulders and ignore the question. But today I’d like to give an answer.

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If you try to paint a picture without the desire to do so or without a passion for art, the picture is going to blow. If you try exercising without the desire to improve your health, you’ll most likely leave the gym after a five-minute walk on the treadmill. If you try to do anything you don’t feel a passion for, your results will be poor. I write blog posts, poetry, and fiction because I have an insane passion for writing and art. But I also have to have a passion for the genres and topics in which I write.

I can only write what I feel. What effects my life and has an impact on me. What touches, pushes, and influences me. When something happens in my little world and evokes from within some emotional response, I’ll feel the desire to vent it; almost instinctively. It’ll just pour from me like maroon from an open wound. Sometimes, it’s the only way I know how to cope.

Don’t get me wrong, I do aim to keep some posts enlightening, inspiring, or motivating. While I do want to write happy posts, that’s not always me. And I can’t be fake–writing or expressing something I simply do not feel. If this is the first post you’re reading by me, and you’re looking to follow a blog with happy posts, then keep looking.

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As I said, I can only write what I feel. So maybe that explains why none of my posts are very “happy.”

 

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you all have a great week.

Sincerely,

Jordan Antonacci

Twitter: @misterhushhush

“You have no reason to be depressed.”

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Depression isn’t something that comes and goes. It isn’t something that visits a few selected people who fall under a certain criteria. Depression is an illness. Like with most illnesses, many are vulnerable. Depression is like some parasitic leech that takes everything and gives nothing. It’ll lie dormant, letting you think it’s gone, then resurface when you’re at your weakest. Depression is a snarling monster in the night, creeping down the streets of your safe suburban neighborhood, knocking down your doors as you sleep and abducting unsuspecting victims as it pleases. You can never know if you’ll be next.

Like all other experiences in life, depression has to be felt to be understood. If the monster never invades your home and takes you into the shadows, you’ll never know what that’s like. You’ll never know that specific brand of fear, impending doom, and helplessness. You’ll never know how it feels to suddenly stop caring for everything you once loved with no rhyme or reason. You’ll never know what it’s like to look into the mirror and not recognize your own reflection.

What I’ve never understood is why people think they have the right to tell you what you should and should not feel. Like any two fingerprints, no two people are the same. Each have their own experiences, their own memories, feelings, goals, priorities…

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So don’t judge me. Don’t take the limited knowledge you have on me, which you’ve gained from the outside, and use it to create some opinion of what you think I should feel on the inside. I am my own person. As Will said in an episode of Hannibal, “You can’t reduce me to a set of influences. I’m not the product of anything.” You don’t know what I’ve gone through, what I’m going through. You don’t know what haunting memories stain the inner walls of my memory palace and you don’t know what it’s like living life inside my head. Because honestly, sometimes this place feels more like a cage, and I’m trapped on the inside, paralyzed as I’m stuck looking from the inside out.

You never know what someone’s going through or how someone else feels. Not unless you’ve walked in their shoes. So stop with the judgements and the belittling. Just because someone doesn’t say something is wrong doesn’t mean they’re okay. They could be on the edge as you see them, but still wearing a smile. A smile doesn’t mean they won’t fall; all it takes is one push.

Hi, everyone! Hope you liked the post. If you haven’t already, checkout my previous post, Sample ch. from my upcoming mystery novel

Sample ch. from my upcoming mystery novel :)

Hi, everyone,

I hope you’ll enjoy these first six pages from my upcoming mystery novel, The Killed Conscience.

If you’re interested in being part of a blog tour or giving my book a review, email me at jtantonacci23@gmail.com

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The Killed Conscience

The phone call came at midnight.

Tucked away in her home in one of the suburban areas outside Dallas, Emilee Weathers sat cross-legged on her sofa, listening to the soft crackles of a fire burning away in the fireplace. Fall weather was just beginning to fade into early winter, and the temperatures outside said it was time for her pink fuzzy socks, thermal pajama pants, and hooded pullover sweater. Long sleeves. Always long sleeves. Her finger traced over the trackpad of the laptop heating the tops of her legs.

Click, click.

She scrolled through the homepage of her blog, Emilee’s Cold Corner, reviewing her posts and trying to find an answer to the question, What should I write about next?

All her posts thus far were articles covering sets of cold cases throughout various areas of the United States, some of which may have been linked. She was always looking to push the bar, to expand and try new things. In her own personal way, she did—but she was also wise enough to stick to what she knew. Having just surpassed five-thousand followers, Emilee had built a cozy little space in her own small corner of the inter-web. So, she figured she’d keep giving the people what they came for. But still, she couldn’t help wondering if there was something more out there for her.

There on the coffee table were two small pieces of dark chocolate. Emilee grabbed a piece, unwrapped it, and set it on her tongue to melt. For a moment, she thought about making a cup of coffee—a thought that always came to tease. It was already well past six in the evening and too late for more caffeine. The thought rebounded to a cup of hot chocolate. That one sounded good. Sadly, she was already nestled under the blanket, and ten steps to the kitchen required a bit too much effort.

Emilee’s phone began buzzing somewhere in the throw blanket across her lap. On the screen was a number with an 865 area code. Out of state. She sat the phone down and went back to staring blankly into that computer screen. But something was pecking at her. It wasn’t until she actually thought about it that she remembered. When she did, she felt like smacking herself on the forehead. No wonder that 865 seemed so familiar—it was the area code of that place she’d once called “home” fifteen years back: Knoxville, Tennessee. A barrage of memories of life up until the age of ten all fell on Emilee at once. She remembered Ball Camp Elementary, the Tennessee mountains…then she remembered her best friend, Sebastian.

Emilee scrambled to answer the phone before it stopped ringing. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this a Ms. Emilee Weathers?”

She hadn’t spoken to Sebastian over the phone in years, but from what she remembered, that didn’t sound like him. Whoever that was, he sounded older, with a timber country accent.

“This is she… Um, who is this?”

“My name is Todd Nichols. I’m a detective here with the Knoxville Police Department. My apologies for the time. We’re on different time zones but I know it’s still late there. Hope I’m not waking you.”

Emilee threw the blanket off her, put her feet on the ground, and sat up straight like the detective could see her and she needed to look professional. “No. Not at all. I was just… What can I do for you, Detective Nichols?”

“Well I’m in a bit of a situation with this broken, pathetic excuse for a legal system over here. Might you be familiar with the VDK case?”

Oh, only if he knew how silly of a question that was. Emilee was very familiar with the Valentine’s Day Killer. Somehow more familiar than any other civilian could’ve been. She’d written not one, but two blog posts over the monster—one before and one after his capture back in 2012. The whole case had really stuck out to Emilee; not just because it took place in her hometown, but also because she found herself staring into the mirror, thinking about how she looked an awful lot like those girls whose bodies they’d found.

“Patrick Liftmen? Yes, of course.”

“Might you also be familiar with the appeal he was just granted?”

“Oh my, God… No. Wh—for when?”

“I don’t know yet. Sometime early January, maybe. Now, the reason I’m calling, Emilee, is ‘coz I think you might be able to help me. I’ve looked into you; you’ve done some good work for the American Association of Investigative Reporting, and your blog clearly demonstrates you know your way around some cold cases. What I need is someone trustworthy—thorough—that can help me find some evidence that’ll keep this guy in prison.”

“And you want that to be me?”

“Thought I already said that, but yes.”

While honored, Emilee couldn’t help but feel there were some unanswered questions standing behind her. Like, how did he find her? How did he know she worked for the A.A.I.R.? And why would he specifically ask her? There had to have been countless other journalists much closer and much more qualified. She wanted to turn and ask but feared shedding light on something she didn’t want to see. At least not until she had to; when those questions were there in her face—a moment that, in due time, would come.

“Well, Knoxville’s pretty far, and I do have things I should take care of over here…” she said, feeling stupid for not just screaming Yes.

“I will gladly pay for all your traveling expenses. I’m sorry, but I thought you journalists ate up stuff like this.”

He was right. A case like that was exactly what Emilee had been aching for since she was a kid. For those last few days, it was exactly what she’d been praying for, relentlessly. For a moment, she feared it might never happen. But there it was being handed to her on a silver platter. It was hers for the taking, and all she had to do was take it. Yet all she seemed to do was stare at it, hesitance in her twitchy fingers. Why did it seem too good to be true?

Emilee looked up to the framed glass enclosure on the wall, which held something so precious to her, and yet so meaningless to the one person who she desperately wanted to be proud of her: her degree in Journalism from U.T. She stared at it like it held all the answers, just like she did every night. As she’d come to learn, it didn’t. Still, she mouthed to it the words Thank you.

“Emilee? You still there?”

After composing herself with a breath, Emilee tried sounding very calm and professional as she spoke into the phone and said, “Yes. I’ll do it. But only on one condition: You have to get me an interview with Patrick Liftmen before his appeal.” There was a pause. Emilee let it hold until she began wondering if maybe her connection had been cut. “Detective?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Before Emilee had time to say anything back, her phone beeped as the call ended.

 

As of right now, I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing. I want to publish traditionally, but also want to stay independent.

At this point in the process, I’m no longer looking for beta readers. I’ve had a few, done a few swaps, and I’m at a place where I don’t think I can be happier with my little polished piece of work. I am, however, looking for some kind bloggers to help with a blog tour and maybe reviews. There’s a few people helping me with each, but I feel you can’t have too many here.

If you think you’d be interested in helping with a blog tour or book reviews, please email me.

Again: jtantonacci23@gmail.com

Sincerely,

Jordan Antonacci

Twitter: @misterhushhush

A Place to Cry

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I don’t know why

I don’t know why

But with the storm winds high

I need a place to hide

This place inside

The four walls of my mind

I’ve been evicted into the night

And I need a place to hide

With these demons of mine

We like to dance and then dine

But the scenes go awry

Time after time

Another crossed line

A body and a knife

Wanted for a crime

I think it’s time to hide

Nothing is fine

Nothing is fine

And I can’t seem to find

A safe place to hide

A roar in the sky

Downpour as angels cry

I try and I try

But there’s no place in sight

A place to be alone

A place that isn’t home

Maybe deep within the earth

Buried within the dirt

A place where I can scream

And unleash all of me

A place where I can bleed

Where no one else can see

I don’t know why

I don’t know why

But with the storm winds high

I need a place to cry

I apologize for my absence these last few days. I’ve been busy trying to set up a blog tour for my book, beta reading, and moving. Right now I’m on a road trip to New Orleans with my family so I have some time.

In regards to the blog tour, if you think you’d be interested in being a part of it, please email me at jtantonacci23@gmail.com

Thanks for reading! Have a great weekend, everyone!

Blog Tour!!!

Traditional publishing is such a pain in the ass. Landing an agent seems like such a stroke of luck. Well…skill and dedication too. But mainly luck.

As of right now, I’m going to consider myself back on the path of self-publishing. I’ve been on this path before–but was rather ill-prepared last time. This time I intend on having a lot more planned and ready for the big release date. The main people I’m in a desperate need for are…

Book Reviewers
Book Bloggers
Beta-readers
Anyone to help with a blog tour