T.L. Gray's Blog, page 21
July 27, 2015
How Do I Say Goodbye to a Dream?
How do I say goodbye to a dream, when the dream has been better than anything I’ve ever seen? How do I say goodbye to a love, deeper than the oceans or any love that ever was?
How do I say goodbye to my heart, beating stronger when we’re together and nearly stops when we’re apart? How do I say goodbye to my breath, the very one that I lost at the very moment we met?
How do I say goodbye to a friend, who’s constant companionship I’d thought would never end?
How do I say goodbye? Where do I get the strength? I know what must be done, but I can’t even breathe. How do I say goodbye to the greatest love I’ve ever known? How do I say goodbye? How do I move on?
It’s killing me to leave you, it’s killing me to stay. I want nothing more than to run into your arms, but I must run away. How do I say goodbye to you, how, oh how, do I breathe? You are the greatest love of my life, but I really have to leave.
I can’t stay here any longer, you’re not real, you’re just a dream. You’re the devil sent to torture me, the angel to unravel my seams. Did you ever love me? Did you ever care? Or was it all just my imagination and a fool’s hat I wear?
How do I say goodbye? Where do I get the strength? I know what must be done, but I can’t even breathe. How do I say goodbye to the greatest love I’ve ever known? How do I say goodbye? How do I move on?
It was a lovely dream, and I wish I could stay. But life is calling me, it’s pulling me away. I can’t worship you any longer, and pretend that you’re mine. You belong to another and I’ve been left behind. To pick up the pieces of my broken, shattered heart, With my arms loaded with shards, down the broken road I start.
Goodbye, my dream. Goodbye, my heart. Good bye, my love. Good bye.
July 23, 2015
Evil Video Games - Be Damned!
*Caution: This rant contains strong opinions. Weak-minded and close-minded individuals need not read any further. You've been warned.
Just in the last few days I’ve read no more than a half dozen Facebook posts linking to articles talking about the evils of kids playing video games. Yet, NONE of these articles reported any scientific facts to back up their claims, just a bunch of close-minded opinions from parents, geriatrics, naturists, and social opinionists. (Yeah, I made those last two up, but so fucking what, I’m a writer and I make up shit with my imagination.)
Before you jump down my throat and to your biased opinions, I want to warn you not to take me wrong. I’m NOT pro or anti video games, I’m just another one of those opinionists who has had the privilege to see things from both sides of the issue.
What exactly is the issue? Is gaming evil? Is our youth being corrupted by the video game industry? Are kids learning anti-social behaviors due to excessive amount of video gaming? Are we desensitizing our children to violence and corruption through video games? Is video gaming destroying marriages and dating lives?
My response: You’re the fucking parent. PARENT your children. You’re the spouse. Be the best SPOUSE possible. Quit projecting excuses of shitty relationships onto inanimate objects and activities for YOUR failures… and communicate. Quit trying to make your kids into mini models of yourself and let them discover who they are. Quit trying to force your spouse into an idealistic mold of what and who you think they should be, and let them be themselves. Did you fall in love with a person, or the idea of a person you want? Want to raise your kids right – raise them to be inquisitive. Raise them to be curious, adventurous, and exploratory. Teach them to learn, and then stand back and LET them learn, their way. Want to make a marriage work, then love the person for who THEY are and don’t be close-minded to the things that bring them joy. Try out their stuff… and encourage them to try yours… and between the two of you – find some common ground. Most of all, communicate with one another.
I play video games, and guess what? I enjoy it. Believe me, it takes skill, timing, talent, patience, determination, and dedication to become proficient with many, many, many of these games. There’s a whole gaming world out there, filled with like-minded people. Now with online gaming, chat sessions, fire-teams, and MMPG, new social skills are being developed.
As with ANYTHING, there’s always down sides, bad points, and abuse by players and non-players alike. Do you know what’s more destructive in a parent/child relationship – a parent yelling at kid, putting him down, putting down the thing he loves to do, the thing he’s excelling at, the thing perhaps his peers appreciate and applaud him for – simply because the parent doesn’t understand and they don’t take the time to find out. Because it’s different than them, their experience, or their understanding – they tear it down and look for everything negative. That’s abuse. That’s bad parenting. That’s despicable.
I watched a video of parents crying because their kids were more excited about playing video games or using their tablets than going outside and building a fort. Instead of blaming themselves that they didn’t understand their kids, didn’t know what their children were doing, surprised their kids liked something different than them, perhaps they should have taken them outside and built a fucking fort with them. I guarantee the next time that kid got into a chat with his friends, he would have been excited about telling them all about building a fort with their parents, and who knows… they may have just inspired a handful of OTHER kids to bug their parents to go outside and build fucking forts too. Instead, video games got blamed for their bad parenting. I wonder how many parents would actually take the time to go outside and build a fort with their kids? Perhaps THAT’s the answer to why some kids spend so much time on video games.
I heard a couple arguing not long ago while I was in a chat session with a fireteam during a raid. The girlfriend was in the background whining and complaining about how her boyfriend spent too much time on his video game, more time with his gaming friends than her, and that he obviously didn’t love her as much. That was an example of manipulation at its finest. This was also the same guy that often talked to us in our group, telling us of all the fun, adventurous things he and his girlfriend did all the time together, how much he loved her, how much he was trying out all the stuff she liked to do – some he liked, some he didn’t like. But his gaming time was getting less and less and less. He was a fantastic and gifted player and had dreams of playing on a MLG team, but he received no support from his family, from his friends, and now from his girlfriend. None of these ass-wipes were willing to play with him, or allow him the time to perfect his skills so he could chase his dream. In their minds, gaming wasn’t an acceptable option. Perhaps had he been a musician, writer, artist, dancer, singer, or actor he’d get the support he needed to follow his passion. Oh, wait… most of those don’t get much support either – because it’s not practical to follow an art. He’s fucked.
I don’t know why it has to be one or the other, gaming or nature, art or hobby, right or wrong. Video games are not evil. Playing video games is not evil. NOT communicating with your kids or your partner – that is what is evil and THAT is all up to each of us as an individual.
I’d love to have a relationship with a gamer, a writer, a musician, an artist, a hiker, a naturist, an adventurer, etc. I’d love to be with someone passionate about something, not some lame-assed fucker blaming everyone else for their failures, or someone who always takes the safe, practical route because it’s what’s expected. I’ve known too many of those. And… if you are one of these artists (gamers especially), perhaps the smart thing would be to choose relationships with other artists, or at least open-minded people who will understand and support your passion. If you choose a lame, close-minded traditionalist, then you can’t bitch when they bitch at you for not being just like them, or when they don’t understand you. Keep it real.
Anyway, since I saw all these blamers putting out their articles, I thought I’d put out one of my own. Bottom line: Stop blaming video games for your shitty relationship habits.
Till next time,
~KV Kvothe
*Image from: http://www.zazzle.com
Just in the last few days I’ve read no more than a half dozen Facebook posts linking to articles talking about the evils of kids playing video games. Yet, NONE of these articles reported any scientific facts to back up their claims, just a bunch of close-minded opinions from parents, geriatrics, naturists, and social opinionists. (Yeah, I made those last two up, but so fucking what, I’m a writer and I make up shit with my imagination.)
Before you jump down my throat and to your biased opinions, I want to warn you not to take me wrong. I’m NOT pro or anti video games, I’m just another one of those opinionists who has had the privilege to see things from both sides of the issue.
What exactly is the issue? Is gaming evil? Is our youth being corrupted by the video game industry? Are kids learning anti-social behaviors due to excessive amount of video gaming? Are we desensitizing our children to violence and corruption through video games? Is video gaming destroying marriages and dating lives?
My response: You’re the fucking parent. PARENT your children. You’re the spouse. Be the best SPOUSE possible. Quit projecting excuses of shitty relationships onto inanimate objects and activities for YOUR failures… and communicate. Quit trying to make your kids into mini models of yourself and let them discover who they are. Quit trying to force your spouse into an idealistic mold of what and who you think they should be, and let them be themselves. Did you fall in love with a person, or the idea of a person you want? Want to raise your kids right – raise them to be inquisitive. Raise them to be curious, adventurous, and exploratory. Teach them to learn, and then stand back and LET them learn, their way. Want to make a marriage work, then love the person for who THEY are and don’t be close-minded to the things that bring them joy. Try out their stuff… and encourage them to try yours… and between the two of you – find some common ground. Most of all, communicate with one another.
I play video games, and guess what? I enjoy it. Believe me, it takes skill, timing, talent, patience, determination, and dedication to become proficient with many, many, many of these games. There’s a whole gaming world out there, filled with like-minded people. Now with online gaming, chat sessions, fire-teams, and MMPG, new social skills are being developed.
As with ANYTHING, there’s always down sides, bad points, and abuse by players and non-players alike. Do you know what’s more destructive in a parent/child relationship – a parent yelling at kid, putting him down, putting down the thing he loves to do, the thing he’s excelling at, the thing perhaps his peers appreciate and applaud him for – simply because the parent doesn’t understand and they don’t take the time to find out. Because it’s different than them, their experience, or their understanding – they tear it down and look for everything negative. That’s abuse. That’s bad parenting. That’s despicable.
I watched a video of parents crying because their kids were more excited about playing video games or using their tablets than going outside and building a fort. Instead of blaming themselves that they didn’t understand their kids, didn’t know what their children were doing, surprised their kids liked something different than them, perhaps they should have taken them outside and built a fucking fort with them. I guarantee the next time that kid got into a chat with his friends, he would have been excited about telling them all about building a fort with their parents, and who knows… they may have just inspired a handful of OTHER kids to bug their parents to go outside and build fucking forts too. Instead, video games got blamed for their bad parenting. I wonder how many parents would actually take the time to go outside and build a fort with their kids? Perhaps THAT’s the answer to why some kids spend so much time on video games.
I heard a couple arguing not long ago while I was in a chat session with a fireteam during a raid. The girlfriend was in the background whining and complaining about how her boyfriend spent too much time on his video game, more time with his gaming friends than her, and that he obviously didn’t love her as much. That was an example of manipulation at its finest. This was also the same guy that often talked to us in our group, telling us of all the fun, adventurous things he and his girlfriend did all the time together, how much he loved her, how much he was trying out all the stuff she liked to do – some he liked, some he didn’t like. But his gaming time was getting less and less and less. He was a fantastic and gifted player and had dreams of playing on a MLG team, but he received no support from his family, from his friends, and now from his girlfriend. None of these ass-wipes were willing to play with him, or allow him the time to perfect his skills so he could chase his dream. In their minds, gaming wasn’t an acceptable option. Perhaps had he been a musician, writer, artist, dancer, singer, or actor he’d get the support he needed to follow his passion. Oh, wait… most of those don’t get much support either – because it’s not practical to follow an art. He’s fucked.
I don’t know why it has to be one or the other, gaming or nature, art or hobby, right or wrong. Video games are not evil. Playing video games is not evil. NOT communicating with your kids or your partner – that is what is evil and THAT is all up to each of us as an individual.
I’d love to have a relationship with a gamer, a writer, a musician, an artist, a hiker, a naturist, an adventurer, etc. I’d love to be with someone passionate about something, not some lame-assed fucker blaming everyone else for their failures, or someone who always takes the safe, practical route because it’s what’s expected. I’ve known too many of those. And… if you are one of these artists (gamers especially), perhaps the smart thing would be to choose relationships with other artists, or at least open-minded people who will understand and support your passion. If you choose a lame, close-minded traditionalist, then you can’t bitch when they bitch at you for not being just like them, or when they don’t understand you. Keep it real.
Anyway, since I saw all these blamers putting out their articles, I thought I’d put out one of my own. Bottom line: Stop blaming video games for your shitty relationship habits.
Till next time,
~KV Kvothe
*Image from: http://www.zazzle.com
July 20, 2015
It's Time
It’s time. I’ve been putting a majority of my life on hold, refusing to make any major decisions, actually panicking to do so. Not because I’m afraid of change, but because I’ve been grieving, grieving a life that once was and a dream of a life that will never be. This is part of the grieving process I find fascinating. Not in a good way, but as a point of observation and understanding. When we lose someone, or go through a major shift in our lives, we grieve the dreams that died because of the loss or the shift. I had many dreams that I’ve had to let go, and their loss broke my heart.
It’s time. It’s time to finally look at all the broken pieces and start putting them together again. I can’t remake the image that once was, but I can make something new, something beautiful, a new dream. For the longest time I didn’t want to think about a new dream, because I was still hurting over the loss of the old one, but I have to let it go and move forward. That’s how life works. I will die inside if I remain where I’m currently dwelling, because I’m just existing, I’m not living, I’m not dreaming. I’m afraid. I’m afraid to grab another dream, because what if I lose it, too? Can my heart take it? Can my soul bear any more pain? That’s been my fear, still is my fear, but fear cannot stop me. It’s time.
It’s time to pull the covers from the mirrors, to open the doors of adventure, and get back to my life. I had made so many strides forward before the detour of cancer and heartbreak interfered, but it’s time to get back to progress. Pausing causes roadblocks and complications. My life is somewhat a mess because of my inactions, my indecisions, my grieving, but it’s not hopeless. It’s time I quit existing and surviving from day to day to building a better tomorrow, to striving toward new success, new adventures, new opportunities. It’s time to get busy. It’s time to let loose the woman inside me, who for so many times and so many years made shit happen, accomplished amazing feats, and scaled mighty mountains. She’s amazing and the things she can accomplish are absolutely mind-blowing, and I’m glad to see she’s waking up and taking control. I’m so tired of hearing myself say, ‘I used to …” It’s time.
Is everything going to just magically happen, opportunities going to land at my door, miraculous blessings make all my dreams come true, love come walking through the door to sweep me off my feet? Not in my experience. No, the journey is just beginning, and every success I’ve ever enjoyed required hard work, determination, drive, energy, focus and sacrifice. It’s hard. It’s always been hard. But, it’s time.
The dreams I once had are dead; they’re gone. It’s time I start dreaming new ones. I don’t care what I used to do, what I’ve done, or what I’ve once achieved …I’m a new person. That person I used to be died along with the cancer that invaded my body and the ache that attacked my heart. Those dreams, relationships and aspirations died too. Will I do similar things I did in the past? Will I be a badass, a writer, an entrepreneur, a lover, an explorer, an agent, a gourmet cook, a fitness guru, a motivational speaker, a wife, a leader, a volunteer, etc.? I don’t know, maybe some, maybe none, but it’s time I start dreaming, and whoever I become – she’s going to be beautiful and amazing.
It’s time… it’s time to live. I’m turning 44 this week. I’m starting my life all over again. Watch out, because it’s going to be amazing.
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray
July 16, 2015
Happiness
Happiness. Is it real? Does it really exist? What does it look like? What does it consist? What are the rules, parameters, stipulations? How can something undefined, unsolidified exist? How can something so distinctly relative and individually interpreted be definable in any common sense or in a general definition?
According to Webster’s Dictionary, happiness is the state of being happy; an experience that makes you happy. But, what is happy? Again, Merriam-Webster declares that happy is an adjective that means feeling pleasure and enjoyment because of your life, situation, etc.; showing or causing feelings of pleasure and enjoyment; pleased or glad about a particular situation, event, etc.
Well, then everyone in the world has had such moments, even the most depraved, repressed, depressed, enslaved person has at one time or another experienced such moments. But, does that make them happy?
A writer friend of mine, Tom Piccirilli, well, more or less a writer acquaintance of mine, passed away a few days ago. I had the pleasure of interviewing him last year for West Georgia Living Magazine. I think fondly on our interview, on his appreciative words about my article, on his gifts as a wonderful writer. His wife posted about his passing today on his Facebook account. My heart broke that he had finally lost his battle with cancer, but it wasn’t sadness I felt when reading his wife’s words, it was something deeper than that, something precious. I was being shown what happiness was in the midst of grief. His wife spoke of the happy years they had together. Sure they had plenty of bad times and bad moments, he battled cancer – it was tough, but they spent those times together, loving each other, supporting one another, and that is what made them happy. Bad moments couldn’t destroy their overall happiness; they didn’t matter.
I remember loving James during the most stressful time of my life, and when he died and the darkness settled in on me, that’s when I knew I had been happy right in the middle of the struggles. I have many, many happy moments with my kids: I remember playing outside in the rain with them, splashing in the mud, lying in bed telling them stories, slip-n-sliding in kitchen floor (it was my way of mopping), smack-talking during a board or card game, having Guitar Hero competitions, letting them show me how to pop waves on the jet ski, playing the clean-up-race-game, dressing up in costumes for a mid-night book release party, and so on and so forth. My kids loved me and I loved them... and I was really happy.
Things change. People grow up, lives get disrupted, and some leave this world and leave us behind. My world has changed so much in the last few years and I’ve shed quite a few tears because of it, but you know what… I’m still happy, I still know happiness, it’s just in different things and comes in different ways. It’s never in what I think it should or would be. I’m kinda lost trying to figure out who I am and where I belong. Happiness, for me, is now found in a random text, while killing aliens, in an occasional touch, in a sweet kiss, or in a simple embrace. Some days I’m so sad I can’t breathe, but even in that I find happiness.
I can’t go back and grab happiness from anything in my past. Those things don’t work for my present. I can’t sit and wait for happiness to happen, because it’s not something you can make happen, and tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. It’s a present state of being, regardless of feelings, because of what is happening here and now. I’m learning happiness comes from loving and being loved… and I love very much, and am loved very much. Is it ideal, how I think I should be, or consists of what I should do, or wrapped in a way I think it should come? Does it matter? No. I can’t fit my life into the shape, the mold, or the ideal of anything other than what it is. It’s crazy. It’s odd. It’s different. It’s unconventional. It’s weird. It clashes with every group of society and I’m really sick and tired of trying to make it fit somewhere. I don’t fit in, and those strange creatures who don’t often understand why they love me, love me for all that I am. They can’t seem to get rid of me, but they can’t define me either. Doesn’t matter… as long as they love me, I’m happy.
Should I leave this world tomorrow… know that I lived today and I was happy.
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray
July 14, 2015
Chimpalooza!
POR FIN QUIEN ES EL ANIMAL JAJAJAJA
POR MONOS
Posted by Orbita 92.9 FM on Friday, August 8, 2014
July 6, 2015
My Fourth of July Moment of Joy
Okay, while most of you were sitting on a beach, sipping on a cool drink, or having a cook out with your friends and family, my single butt spent Fourth of July sitting at home, playing on my Xbox, spending the day with my adopted family, fellow gaming clan members of Omega Victrix Mortalis. You know what? I had one of the best days I’ve had in a very, very, very long time.
Sometimes dating sucks, being single sucks, and watching the rest of the world go through the ‘family’ adventures (been there, done that, loved it, and got many tee-shirts) while you’re excluded sucks too. I’m divorced and my kids are grown – family activities are on hiatus. However, the freedom to do what I want, when I want, how I want, and with who I want is a pretty good payoff.
I had several date offers for the Fourth of July, but you know what, I didn’t want to spend my holiday with someone I barely knew. I wanted to be with family. While my natural family had other plans, some of my gamer family was online. I didn’t expect many of them to be there, since they all have families of their own, but several of them were. The mama in me wanted to yell at them to get off the game and go spend time with their families, the other part of me reasoned I wasn’t their mother, it wasn’t my job, and as their friend, decided I needed them too. I really love this group of guys and gals.
There was one moment my boys touched my heart so strongly I got choked up. I pretended my mike muted, so I could get off and go have a cry. Not sad tears, but happy ones. People come into your lives sometimes when you least expect it, and it seems they’re the right people at the right time. If you try to make things like that happen, it won’t work. You don’t see it coming together, but every once in a while you get a glimpse of the beauty of humanity.
So, what was this big moment that got me all choked up? Well… (Bear with me, I’m a writer and don’t know how to tell the simple story.) I just wanted to have a good time, and do what others would classify as a meaningless quest, and go ghost hunting for all the dead ghosts I’d previously missed in my Destiny game. There were 77 of them and I only had 51. The quest excited me, reminded me of the old Nancy Drew interactive computer games I used to play. I’d been grinding it out on Iron Banner and Prison of Elders for days and I didn’t want to do anything intense… just have a little fun. Of course, I didn’t want to do it alone, so I hopped into a party chat with some of my online clan members and friends. Well, two of my friends were having NAT issues (you guys really need to get that fixed) and couldn’t do party chat, so we found ourselves in a six-man fireteam and talking in game chat. That’s the maximum amount of people you can have in a fireteam to do POE, Raids, or Crucible. The problem … I didn’t need to do any of those and the maximum fire-team was three for a simple patrol. (Bungie – you really need to allow bigger fireteams in all areas of the game.) I didn’t want to break off into a team of three, because the six of us (Phoenix, Rev, Hi Power, Noizy, & Jallak) were having fun together discussing current events, politics, jokes, game strategies, weapons, armor, and life in general. So, while on Venus, we started the VOG Raid, but didn’t actually do it, but just stayed together in a fireteam of six as we explored the planet. Those guys spent the next hour or two with me helping me find my ghosts and just goofing off.
Those times just hanging out together, those are the best times. We work great together as a clan not just completing the tasks we need (Raids, Strikes, Missions, Quests, Crucible, Bounties, Farming, Trials (not me) and Prison of Elders), but also hanging out and having fun. I’m the player I am today because of them. Our clan isn’t about being the best player at the game, though the guys in my clan ARE some of the best players in this game, but it’s about sharing something we all enjoy while at the same time enjoying each other’s company.
These guys and gals are my family now. I care about each and every one of them. Some people just come on to play the game, and that’s all good and well. But, I play the game to be with my family, to not be so alone, to spend time with people that actually care about me. I may not have spent my Fourth of July drinking, partying, or cooking out with friends and family, or on an awkward date, nor did I see a single firework, but I had a very wonderful day surrounded by friends and family who love me and who I love very much… Oh, and I found all my ghosts.
I cried, because in that moment I realized I was a very lucky girl and I was genuinely happy.
Till next time,
~KV Kvothe
(btw – I pronounce my gamertag Kvothe as… Kah-voth-ee)
Jameson - Zella Day
*Words in italics – Song lyrics to Jameson - by Zella Day *Go out and buy this song!!!
This song really breaks my heart. According to an interview with Zella Day in LA Times, she states, “I've never really written a song like that. It's about falling for an alcoholic. It has this hopelessness, but at the same time there's this light at the end of the tunnel, so there's this sort of weird war. It's kind of like love, but being in love with something you can't have because something [else] already has it."
For me, this song is about loving someone you can’t have, someone that’s gone or with someone else, and the war inside is one of bargaining and pleading to let go, but being unable. It’s all five stages of grief.
I remember the stage of negotiation, begging God to change a difficult situation, and being completely helpless to change anything. The only choice left was to face the pain, acceptance, but it was the kind of pain that couldn’t be faced at once. I remember when my fiancé was deployed to Somalia. He’d been deployed a few times before, but all those other times he wasn’t mine. This time, he was my hero, my love, and he took my heart with them. Many nights trying to get through the day, I’d stare into the stars. I’d bargain with God to bring my soldier home. I remember saying the words aloud, “The world doesn’t need him like I do, please just bring him back to me.”
Words are meant to be taught.
My hero didn’t come home. My bargaining didn’t stop with his death. The only thing that changed were my prayers. “Please God, you don’t need him like I do, send him back to me.” When that didn’t work, I told myself every day I was okay, but I wasn’t. I hid inside middle class morality and wore my mask of obedient compliance and contentment, yet inside cried and battled a pain that wouldn’t go away.
Love’s not meant to be lost.You said that if I’m happy you’re cured,But I’m not.
I thought I’d never feel fire again. I had loved others, but my soul hadn’t danced in more than twenty years, not until I met a particular soldier. By all common sense and practicality he wasn’t what I thought I wanted or needed in my life. I tried to run, to hide, to not love him, but my heart betrayed me. I tried so hard to be indifferent, to build my walls, to pretend I didn’t care. I knew the moment I met him he’d break my heart. I was scared more than I’d ever been. I don’t know if it was because I pushed him away, or he just never felt the same fire, we got stuck and ended up in the friend zone.
I know you have a delicate fate,You’re a quiet man, but in the worst way,I’m not a follower and I won’t follow you down
He went on to love another. I stopped breathing the day I found out he got married. I felt my heart stop. Then the bargaining and war between my heart and head enraged as I became the other woman.
Oh, Jameson, you’ve had your fun, stop holding him I want to be the one.I promise you, I’ll treat him right, don’t want to fight. You don’t need him like I do.
It was supposed to be a zone of safety, getting to enjoy all the good of him, but safe from me getting my heart broke. Instead, I grew to love him even more, to love his mind, his heart, his courage, his sense of humor, all of his stupid little philosophies. I tried to find that fire in another set of eyes, another pair of hands, another heart – but it was him I was looking for in every smiling face staring back at me. He was my last thought before I closed my eyes and the first when I woke, and often the star of my dreams. So many nights I fell asleep on a damp pillow and stumbled through the day hiding wet eyes behind a smile and a pair of glasses.
I waited in the street outside, sat in my car till my tears dried.I’m justifying people with pain, tonight.
It’s so easy to say ‘just turn it off’, but I’m finding that’s impossible. The right thing would be to move one, to forget the past, to open my heart to someone new. That’s what my head says all the time. My heart …well, my heart is an idiot. The world has their judgments, and has found me guilty. Many would say I deserve the pain I feel because I dared to love another woman’s man. I loved him first. I’m my greatest accuser; my harshest judge, but I have no shame for loving him.
I watched your fingers point at the blame, it’s the darkest of gray when you explain.I’m not a follower, I won’t follow you down.
I have no right to be angry - not at her, not at him , not even at myself. She’s just a woman who fell in love with a man. She’s no different than me, except he loved her back and chose her. While my heart wants what it wants, I have to learn to survive, I have to learn to heal. I have to learn to breathe again. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression… acceptance.
Oh, Jameson, you’ve had your fun, stop holding him I want to be the one.I promise you, I’ll treat him right, don’t want to fight. You don’t need him like I do.
I have no choice. I have to move on. I have to breathe. How does one exist without their heart? One day at a time. I’ve since had many opportunities to give my heart away. I’ve had proposals and offers for rational, practical relationships – but I won’t settle for anything less than the hottest of fires.
I know I’ll be okay. Don’t tell me where or which way you go.Find someone else to take my place. You want me, but treat me like you don’t.
Oh, Jameson, go have your fun, keep holding him if he’s really the one. Just promise me you’ll treat him right, don’t want to fight, and need him like I did.
My hope is to love again, and that it not take 20 years for my heart to heal. I deserve someone who will love me, completely, as I love them. The man who finally gets my heart is going to be a very lucky man, because I already know that I’ll love him with such deep devotion … something beyond my comprehension… something more than words can contain. How do I know? I know… because I’ve already done it twice.
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray
June 30, 2015
Crisis of Faith
I try to steer away from politics and religion on all social media forums… well, in life in general, because those are two topics, along with money, that destroy relationships, friendships, and any kind of ships really for that matter. It’s a hot topic. Well, I’m not here to debate any of it, just share with you a little crisis of faith I’m having of my own.
No point going into my history, just know that I had both religious and non-religious parts in my life. I became a Christian at 24 and served in the ministry for nearly 17 years. I don’t need a history lesson, nor am I about to give one. I just added that bit of information so you’d understand that what I’m talking about isn’t some idea I pulled off a meme somewhere or heard in passing. I take my faith very seriously. I think it’s probably the thing that broke my heart most when my life fell apart a few years ago.
I don’t have a problem with God, the concept of God, or really any of the teachings attributed to God. The people who claim to represent God, well, that’s another story and one I’m not getting into.
In my meditation this morning I was feeling angry, but I wasn’t quite sure who I was angry with. It could have been directed toward myself for having made a really stupid decision lately where I thought I was helping a friend, but instead was just enabling them to use me. I could have been angry at another friend that had lied to me and made me feel unwanted. I could have been angry at yet another friend that left me high and dry when I needed them most. I could have been angry at myself for being unable to make simple life decisions because I’m stuck, I’m in a numb place, a place of indecision and confusion. I could have been angry just because my pre-menopausal hormones have been going crazy the last few days and have made me want to crawl out of my skin. It could have been one of a million reasons, but as the tears bubbled in the corners of my eyes, it was toward God I directed my anger.
I’ve been reading a lot of religious and anti-religious meme’s lately. Not because I’m searching them out, but because many of my friends have been posting them in light of the Supreme Court decision to legalize gay marriage. I’ve seen them for both sides of the issue. I’m not going to debate that either. I’m not gay and I’m not married, so it’s really none of my business. The majority of these memes I know were meant to be inspirational, to give hope in a time of hardship and pain. But they weren’t. Instead they came off as condescending. Don’t tell me when I’m hurting so bad I can’t breathe that God has a plan for me – that He allowed me to go through this pain so that I can learn some proverbial spiritual lesson that’s going to make me a better person. Don’t tell me because something just became legal all the world is now rainbows and unicorns. FUCK that!!!! I’ll say it again, FUCK THAT!!! If you got a problem with my language, then you don’t need to read my stuff. I’m free to speak my mind – and my mind sometimes uses foul language.
God’s got a plan for my life? You, who thought the fucking world was flat a couple hundred years ago and crucify people daily for being different, thinking different, and believing different… have the right to tell me God has a plan for me? Don’t get me wrong, I believe GOD has a plan for me, but YOU think YOU know what it is, what I should do, how I should do it, or what I need to do to help God help me???? I don’t think so. FUCK THAT. And just because you don’t believe in God, don’t try to tell me I’m using my faith as a crutch and can’t think for myself. Both of you… get over yourselves and stop judging me because I might be different than you.
Shit happens, whether I’m good or bad, obedient or faithful. SHIT HAPPENS. I’ve had a lot of shit happen. Instead of sitting on your righteous high horses and telling me what you think you know of what GOD wants from me, for me, and about me… why don’t you just be real and tell me how you survived those low moments that happened in your life? Tell me how you picked up all your broken pieces and put them back together. I don’t want a magic solution, a supernatural fairy tale, an example of miraculous faith of God swooping down off his throne and showing favoritism because you mumbled a few magic words. Don’t tell me flowers and free love will solve all my problems.
What’s miraculous to me? Being able to love in the midst of such a cruel judgmental world, having hope for a brighter tomorrow, having the courage to chase a dream, having the guts to take a leap to follow my heart, having a compassion to love my neighbor in the middle of tension and hate. Stop telling me what God is doing FOR you, but what you’re doing for yourself, what you’re doing for your neighbor because you love them, not because your religion dictates you appear compassionate, or your lack of religion makes you appear intelligent and all-knowing. Show me your faith, what you truly believe with your actions, not your words, not your mouth, not your scripture, platitudes and memes. Some of the most cruelest people I ever met sat in a church pew or stood in a protest line holding a picket sign. Cruelty is on all sides of fundamentalism – whether conservative, liberal, gay, straight, black, or white.
I see god and enlightenment all the time in a touch, in a smile, in an act of kindness, tenderness, and compassion. Please, please, please for the love of all that is, stop trying to save me and just love me. If God is love, then love is what will heal me and help me. If love is your god, then show me that love. Just stop. It’s not YOUR job to save or enlighten me, only to love me. Let ME save ME. Let me learn what I need to know, because I’m the only one that can.
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray
No point going into my history, just know that I had both religious and non-religious parts in my life. I became a Christian at 24 and served in the ministry for nearly 17 years. I don’t need a history lesson, nor am I about to give one. I just added that bit of information so you’d understand that what I’m talking about isn’t some idea I pulled off a meme somewhere or heard in passing. I take my faith very seriously. I think it’s probably the thing that broke my heart most when my life fell apart a few years ago.
I don’t have a problem with God, the concept of God, or really any of the teachings attributed to God. The people who claim to represent God, well, that’s another story and one I’m not getting into.
In my meditation this morning I was feeling angry, but I wasn’t quite sure who I was angry with. It could have been directed toward myself for having made a really stupid decision lately where I thought I was helping a friend, but instead was just enabling them to use me. I could have been angry at another friend that had lied to me and made me feel unwanted. I could have been angry at yet another friend that left me high and dry when I needed them most. I could have been angry at myself for being unable to make simple life decisions because I’m stuck, I’m in a numb place, a place of indecision and confusion. I could have been angry just because my pre-menopausal hormones have been going crazy the last few days and have made me want to crawl out of my skin. It could have been one of a million reasons, but as the tears bubbled in the corners of my eyes, it was toward God I directed my anger.
I’ve been reading a lot of religious and anti-religious meme’s lately. Not because I’m searching them out, but because many of my friends have been posting them in light of the Supreme Court decision to legalize gay marriage. I’ve seen them for both sides of the issue. I’m not going to debate that either. I’m not gay and I’m not married, so it’s really none of my business. The majority of these memes I know were meant to be inspirational, to give hope in a time of hardship and pain. But they weren’t. Instead they came off as condescending. Don’t tell me when I’m hurting so bad I can’t breathe that God has a plan for me – that He allowed me to go through this pain so that I can learn some proverbial spiritual lesson that’s going to make me a better person. Don’t tell me because something just became legal all the world is now rainbows and unicorns. FUCK that!!!! I’ll say it again, FUCK THAT!!! If you got a problem with my language, then you don’t need to read my stuff. I’m free to speak my mind – and my mind sometimes uses foul language.
God’s got a plan for my life? You, who thought the fucking world was flat a couple hundred years ago and crucify people daily for being different, thinking different, and believing different… have the right to tell me God has a plan for me? Don’t get me wrong, I believe GOD has a plan for me, but YOU think YOU know what it is, what I should do, how I should do it, or what I need to do to help God help me???? I don’t think so. FUCK THAT. And just because you don’t believe in God, don’t try to tell me I’m using my faith as a crutch and can’t think for myself. Both of you… get over yourselves and stop judging me because I might be different than you.
Shit happens, whether I’m good or bad, obedient or faithful. SHIT HAPPENS. I’ve had a lot of shit happen. Instead of sitting on your righteous high horses and telling me what you think you know of what GOD wants from me, for me, and about me… why don’t you just be real and tell me how you survived those low moments that happened in your life? Tell me how you picked up all your broken pieces and put them back together. I don’t want a magic solution, a supernatural fairy tale, an example of miraculous faith of God swooping down off his throne and showing favoritism because you mumbled a few magic words. Don’t tell me flowers and free love will solve all my problems.
What’s miraculous to me? Being able to love in the midst of such a cruel judgmental world, having hope for a brighter tomorrow, having the courage to chase a dream, having the guts to take a leap to follow my heart, having a compassion to love my neighbor in the middle of tension and hate. Stop telling me what God is doing FOR you, but what you’re doing for yourself, what you’re doing for your neighbor because you love them, not because your religion dictates you appear compassionate, or your lack of religion makes you appear intelligent and all-knowing. Show me your faith, what you truly believe with your actions, not your words, not your mouth, not your scripture, platitudes and memes. Some of the most cruelest people I ever met sat in a church pew or stood in a protest line holding a picket sign. Cruelty is on all sides of fundamentalism – whether conservative, liberal, gay, straight, black, or white.
I see god and enlightenment all the time in a touch, in a smile, in an act of kindness, tenderness, and compassion. Please, please, please for the love of all that is, stop trying to save me and just love me. If God is love, then love is what will heal me and help me. If love is your god, then show me that love. Just stop. It’s not YOUR job to save or enlighten me, only to love me. Let ME save ME. Let me learn what I need to know, because I’m the only one that can.
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray
June 24, 2015
Letter From a Reader
Awww... I want to cry. I just received the following message from someone that reads my blog. BTW - I responded and told him I appreciated his letter and that I won't publish his name, but that I wanted share what he wrote because it touched me. He answered, "I figured as much. I read your blog everyday. I think I had an idea of how you'd respond. Thanks for respecting my privacy and you're more than welcome to share my words."
Anyway: Here's his message:
Dear, T.L.,
Yes, I'm writing with a greeting. I can't help it. It's how I was taught to write. I'm from the old school of things. When a man wants to write a letter to a lady, he should open with a greeting.
I know we've never met but I've been reading your blog for almost a year. I first stumbled upon it reading a review you wrote for Anthony Ryan. By the way, that was one of the best book reviews I've ever read. I purchased the book immediately and Mr. Ryan didn't disappoint. Raven's Shadow was everything you'd written and more. I hope Mr. Ryan appreciates your enthusiasm for his work.
I'm not writing to flirt with you, only to tell you what reading your blog has meant to me. It's literally changed my life. I'm highly professional and somewhat of a high profile, but inside I struggle trying to self identify. I've lived my life being defined by everyone else around me. In my case, it's been a good definition. I can't complain.
Some of the things you've written touched me very deeply. There were times I misdirected those feelings, believing perhaps I was falling in love with this beautiful soul being poured out week after week in front of me, but I kept telling myself you weren't real, more than likely a created persona to enhance your writing career. Yes, I'm a skeptic. I'm in the entertainment business and question everything. Just when I'm convinced of this created persona, you then write something so naked, so heart-breaking, you'd literally have me weeping at my desk. I knew in those times that you were a real person and you were being honest while sharing the intimate pain of your life.
So many times I wanted to write to you and tell you how beautiful you were to me. I've seen some of your pictures and think you're a very pretty woman, but the beauty I witnessed poured out in those blog posts have greatly exceeded your pretty face. It broke my heart to see you often doubt yourself, doubt your worth, and believe yourself to be unlovable. It boggles my mind how you're alone. I wish there were more like you in this world. Every time I received a new email notification that you've posted a new article, my hope was always to find you'd found your happiness. I wouldn't have to wait long when you would post again and it be something happy, something brave, something that showed you did see yourself as the beautiful soul you really were. I sometimes pondered if you were perhaps bipolar because you often went from one extreme to the next. I slowly began to understand your process. All this time I had felt like you were writing to me, or at least to a captive audience, but you were not. You were the audience. You have been the targeted reader all along. I want you to know you're simply amazing.
I don't have a blog and never will. I'm not as brave as you to expose myself the way you do, but I am taking a page from your example. I've started writing a journal to myself. The first few entries were stilted, odd, and somewhat confusing, but freeing at the same time. I'm not the same caliber of writer as you, but seeing my words on the page helped me see them in a different light and understanding. I'm learning a lot about and not struggling so much with self identity. You've restored my faith in people. You've reminded me about the important things.
I want to thank you Ms. Gray for sharing your heart with unknown strangers as myself. I sincerely hope you find the happiness you're searching for. That man will be one of the luckiest men in the world, because I have no doubt he will be loved like he's never been loved before and appreciated like he's never been appreciated before. I may not know you, but I know your heart. You once wrote a post about why you call someone in your life Beautiful. You, my dear, are the truest example of Beautiful I've ever seen. I work with beautiful faces every day, but they do not possess the kind of beauty I witness in you.
Please keep writing. I believe you're changing many hearts across this world, not just mine.
Sincerely,
Your Faithful Reader
*** With a hand full of tissues, I'm wiping the wet tears off my face and gobs of snot dripping from my nose. *** This just made my day. Hell, it's made my week, my month, and probably my year!!!!
You Don't Get to Choose
I had a dream last night. Yeah, yeah… those of you who know me know I dream all the time, so I visualize you all right now rolling your eyes, saying, “what’s the big deal?” The big deal is the way this dream felt. It’s hard to describe, but it’s like that feeling you get sometimes where your subconscious is screaming at you, “pay attention, this is important!” So, that’s what I’m trying to do, pay attention because this dream feels extremely important.
My dream, as with most of my dreams over the past year, starred Emi (short for Exotic Man of my Imagination) as he climbed upon the back of a tall, white thoroughbred in the middle of a dark, gloomy, wooded area. Everything was outlined in silver moonlight, making the majestic white coat of the horse practically glow. While she was white, her mane and tail were pitch black. Emi’s beautiful brown eyes missed nothing. He saw every motion of every creeping thing in the woods, yet he didn’t react to his surroundings, keeping his temperament in a calm, collected, controlled state. He was dressed in a pair of cargo pants, a white buttoned shirt with rolled sleeves, and brown boots. Not cowboy boots, more like military or the hiking kind.
Emi climbed onto the back of the horse, and then looked down at something he wore on his wrist. It wasn’t a watch, but perhaps a smartphone like a watch. I’m not sure, but whatever it was, I got the sense it was what prompted his urgency to get somewhere. He tightened his grip on the reins and gave the mare a swift kick in the side.
She didn’t move.
He kicked her again, snapped the reins, but the mare still refused to budge.
Emi jumped down from the horse, pulled a pistol from his side holster and pointed it right at the horse’s head. The mare still didn’t move. She just stood there, her big eyes unblinking, staring back at him. He flipped the safety of the gun with his thumb as he stared down the sight aimed right between the horses eyes. His index finger rested on the side of the trigger, itching to move into place to take the shot.
There was something in the horse’s eyes, a sadness, a deepness, a mystery that caught Emi’s attention. A knowing feeling washed over him. In that moment he knew the horse wanted him to pull the trigger, to end her sadness, to release her from her pain. She knew he was strong enough to do it. He knew what she wanted, and why. I, the dreamer, don’t even know why. But Emi did, and he wouldn’t do it.
Emi sighed. Flipped the safety back with his thumb and holstered his pistol. He was angry, yet filled with relief at the same time. He pointed to the horse and said to her in a loud voice, not yelling, but one filled with all authority and command, “You do not get to choose.”
The horse lowered her head. A small trickle of silver tears spilled from her eyes. Emi mounted her once again. This time when he tightened the reins and gave her a swift kick in the side, she moved. Together, in rhythm, they galloped off into the dark wood toward where Emi needed to go. Even as the dreamer, I have no idea where it was he needed to be, only that there was an urgency for him to get there.
I woke with such a sense of compassion, connection, and confusion. I know this dream means something, but I can’t see it. Please don’t send me any ‘interpretations’ you might have, because I don’t want them to interfere. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a dream this intense, this detailed, this …I don’t know how to explain the overwhelming sensation. I don’t know what it means, I only know it feels important. If I’m meant to know, I will eventually discover it. Perhaps I just need to eat something because I also feel like I’m starving.
Till next time,
~The Weird Dreamer
