HastyWords's Blog, page 123
June 10, 2014
CONFETTI DAYS
I wrote this post originally in May of 2012. The memories I had trouble classifying when I wrote this post somehow ended up where they needed to be over time. I believe emotional wounds are like physical wounds. If we keep dwelling and fueling our heartache by listening to certain music, looking at certain pictures, or following certain people on social media we are picking at a wound making it hard for time to heal us. Sometimes we have no other choice but to walk away and start over… completely over. And then the healing will come.
It’s funny isn’t it? The way things are? One minute you are having the time of your life and the next reality crushes you into tiny pieces and you’re not fit to walk in the present. You look over at the person sitting next to you and think I could spend every minute, of every day, of the rest of my life right here in this perfect moment but reality persists in moving us from the past into the future. Time flies when you least want it to and slows when you need it to hurry up. Past moments lived once never to be repeated. For instance, this is a picture of me after playing with my daughter, husband, mother-n-law and a good friend who will be moving away. Our friend had bought confetti eggs for Easter but we couldn’t use them because our friend, who died a few days later, was in the hospital. Well, it was time to honor him by chasing each other around the yard cracking eggs on our heads. You never quite grasp how special a moment is during the moment. I believe understanding how our memories work is the beginning to understanding what it means to be happy.
The same mind that learns and understands language and math is the same mind that remembers important events well enough to play them back like a movie when we close our eyes. They are the important bits and pieces we have collected in our living memory box. I have stuffed my memory box to full-capacity over the past two years and I think it is time I sit down and sort out those memories worth keeping and those I need to let go. The above memory I will keep in honor of my friend’s life and it will also mark the day I had to say goodbye to his partner who is moving away.
You always hear the phrase, “Let the past stay in the past, move forward never look back.” Well I always assumed that meant we should let go of the bad things that are better left forgotten. But I am starting to think some of the good memories should be left in the past as well. People change and constantly bringing up how they used to be will never allow for positive future change. This is true for friendships as well as family relationships. For example, my husband and I are notorious for bringing up the fact that one or the other of us has have changed so much. We say “you’ve changed” as if it’s a bad thing. Actually it isn’t good or bad it just is. There are moments and things we loved about each other that are gone and live in the past. They are great memories and that’s where we need to leave them. We have been together 22 years; do we really want to live with an unchanging partner our whole lives? We need to remember the great memories fondly and look forward to creating new memories in our ever-changing lives together.
Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.~Buddha
As I was thinking about these things last night I realized taking inventory of our memories, classifying them, and putting them in their rightful spot is an important task often overlooked. I need to understand that painful memories can be laid to rest. They can only cause me future pain if I allow them to. I need to understand that the beautiful memories are there to remind me of how great life is and that there is hope for more beautiful memories to be made! I will remember the days filled with confetti with joy and hope for more confetti filled days in the future.
It’s being here now that’s important. There’s no past and there’s no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can’t relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don’t know if there is one.~ George Harrison
SQUISHY NOSE AND STINKY TOES
Morning is quiet; we’re all sound asleep
As light begins to filter into your lullaby
Shining on all the dolls you have in a heap
Your little eyes pop open wider than wide
And a cute little daredevil grin does grace
Your silly, adorable, chubby-cheeked face
You jump from your bed clear to the hall
Into my bedroom like you’re 10 feet tall
Wakey, wakey, eggs, and bakey you cheer
Being sure to deliver the news to my ear
Letting me have it with your ten little fingers
And your squishy little nose, and stinky toes
Your favorite day; has come none too soon
As you chant your favorite wake up tune
I scream in silly delight as you playfully dig
Crazy little fingers into my too ticklish ribs
It’s tickle Saturday mom don’t you ever forget
These are the moments I will never regret
PAIN IS A MOTIVATING WHORE
I watched the movie Maleficent with my daughter a few weekends ago. I never saw Sleeping Beauty but Maleficent is the story told from Sleeping Beauty’s perspective. A story about love, deception, heartbreak, anger, revenge, and forgiveness. What’s not to love?
Have you ever connected to someone who made you feel loved one moment, who made you feel special, and then like a magician they disappear? Whether it is loyalty to a kingdom, as in Maleficent, or to connect with yet another woman/man we heal and we watch as the pattern repeats itself around us. We hear I love you one moment and crickets the next. We are promised the moon but end up with a freezer full of ice cream instead.
She messaged me; befriended me
Said she was the same as me
But deception was at her core
Her pain a motivating whore
Heartache was in the cards
There was never another way
But to be deceived by her
Made it hurt that much more
Sitting from afar I sadly watch
As her clever snare is built
And as my loved draws near
I dare not scream a warning out
What remains to be caught
Merely tattered remnants
Emotions dulled by love
Once had then fully lost
The past was won, my victory
So what remains is poisoned fate
She will never find her golden love
For I’ve already stole that stake
June 9, 2014
INSIDE MY MIDNIGHT
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
So I was awake last night thinking. Actually, I was asleep and then I woke up; and since everyone else was sleeping, I just laid in bed with my eyes open, my ears alert, and my mind running a marathon. I thought I would let you wonderful blogger friends hitchhike a ride inside my tilt-o-whirl mind. These were just a few of the thoughts I had last night that I could remember today.
I’ve decided I’m not ok. Not even remotely. Too many things are not ok for me to be ok. Are our minds more fragile than they were a century ago or are we just more aware of our imperfections? Are we completely spoiled and therefore break more easily? What were people like when they went into battle before we had guns, airplanes, or bombs? Did PTSD exist when men had to kill other men with their bare hands to survive? Could I kill someone with my bare hands? I don’t think so because I can barely step on an ant without throwing up a prayer for little red devils.
I might be more likely to kill someone if they were about to hurt someone else, especially my daughter. What was I thinking getting pregnant and having a child? She is the best thing about my life but what if I am not raising her right. What if she can’t take care of herself, or handle money, or marries the wrong guy? What if I am doing something tragically wrong but I won’t know until it is too late to fix it? What if someone hurts her?
Some guy chased down a man that took his little girl into a wooded area and was about to rape her. I think he killed him. Good. I have PTSD hearing those stories. Just the thought of something happening to my own child makes my heart speed up and induces angry fear and I have no doubt homicide would be the result. I am definitely a momma bear and all reason or logic disappears when someone is in danger.
I have to check on my daughter, to make sure she is ok. She is beautiful and safe at the moment and that calms me. I want to always keep her safe. I wish I didn’t have to work because I would stay with her 24/7. But, she would grow up and I would forget how to live without her. I can’t think about that now. I was dreaming when I woke up…what was I dreaming? Hmmmm I was dreaming something bad but I don’t remember. I have to pee. “Where are you going”, hubby murmurs as I walk by his side of the bed. “Jeez hun it’s late” he mumbles as he snores before I can answer. I feel sick. Oh that reminds me of my dream…ugh it was awful.
I dreamed my daughter’s nanny called to tell me my daughter’s arm had been accidentally cut off. I woke up because I can’t handle dreams like that. What would I do if that really happened? Would I drive her or recommend someone else drive because an ambulance would take too long? What if the nanny didn’t know where the entrance to the emergency room was and had to search for it? I should lay here and figure it out in case it really happens. But I can’t because I am crying and getting myself worked up over something that isn’t likely to happen. Right? Right???
How did people deal before we had medicine, doctors, hospitals, or cures? Was dying and death different in those days? Did they live fuller lives because death was around every corner? Or is everything relative? I just can’t even imagine being the first person to cut open a dead body to try to figure out how we work. I think we are all different kinds of mentally ill nowadays. I think our minds have been tampered with. We are the victims of a large scale experiment with fake-sweeteners. I hate my addiction to sugar. Potatoes are evil…evil little roots out to destroy us all. I have the thighs to prove it. I need plastic surgery. I want to be Mrs. Potato head with interchangeable parts.
I wonder if my husband would like that. Here honey let me put on my small boobs to go out for sushi. Dang, I have been married so long I think he has forgotten I even have parts. Sigh…
The rest was a bit R rated so we shall end it here. And yes my mind is a sometimes a morbid place and I hate it.
BITTER CHILL
Written by Steven Clapp and Hastywords
He stood angry; freezing
Watching them leave
Hurried footprints marking
Their narrow escape
Leaving him to grieve
Their witnessing voices
And the dead silence he
Couldn’t bring.
♦
Over blood and ice;
His eyes follow into
Tomorrow’s endless night,
Where the wraith of regret
Would lie in wait taunting
Not for the lives he took
But singing of his failures
For those who had survived
♦
Howling shrieks of biting wind
Chills both his heart and mind
As he crumples defeated
Onto the crimson snow
Listening to the corpses
Put to rest at his feet
Bellowing and mocking him
From their dead blue lips
June 6, 2014
TRIPPING ON MENTAL
I tripped on mental stardust
Lost inside billowing smoke
Leaping
Over shimmering moons
With rust colored daffodils
And planted
Upon clouds that spoke
♥
I circled Jupiter’s eye
With wings of golden rye
Wearing
Spring time fragrances
Inside spacesuits of fur
And dipped
In a rainbow of colored dye
♥
I sucked candy centers
From sugar coated rocks
Licking
The skittle flavored cheeks
Of few random rocket men
And painted
Them to look like Goldilocks
♥
I saluted the storm trooper
That splintered my front door
Handing
Me Johnson’s & Johnson’s baby oil
For armor that was dingy and dinged
And needed
To be rubbed shiny once more
♥
I excused myself from the fog
And tried to focus on Earth
Rotating
Endlessly on an imaginary axis
My mind sped into wobbling
And crashed
Spilling out all its syrupy worth
A PROMISE TO FIGHT
In memory of a friend. I still think of you so very often.
Plastic wrappers and needles covered the tables
Drawn window drapes thickened all the shadows
The room had unintentionally become her prison
She was free to leave but she wouldn’t get far
She couldn’t remember things about normalcy
Like the last time she saw the dawn follow sunset
Or the sound of her parents spontaneous laughter
Lord she missed how happy mom had made dad
And the visits became fewer and further between
Damn the drugs and the lingering hope she had
She refused to give up even though it seemed
Yes it only seemed…
Afraid to visit with their timid concern, wishes
Filtering through her reality inside glittery cards
She smiled every time the mail came, memories
All wrapped up inside GET WELL and WE MISS YOU
And she would cry because she missed them too
She cried because she was still here but already gone
Things would never be the same as they had been
Hope dwindled for her just as daylight says “so long”
Damn with the flowers and the compilation CD’s
She yearned for a hug, for a personal smile
To watch TV next to someone and laugh or scream
But she was dying and she knew it was too hard to watch
So she sat cursing the needles that promised so much
She cursed the cancer that stole her favorite smiles
She once again thought of ending it sooner than…
But the knock at the door would remind her of love
Her beautiful daughter would come bouncing in
Talking of all the things she’s seen, done, and learned
And it is for her she fights for life, it is for her she hopes
She had made her a promise – to try not to die
She felt like a jet plan running down a very long runway
And it wouldn’t be long before the road would finally end
She would open her eyes just long enough to say goodbye
And start another journey among stars that dot the sky
Leaving Arcadia Week
If you recall a few weeks back I wrote a Because Girls Are Cool post about Helena Hann-Basquiat. I have been reading a story she wrote about violent abuse against women and I would like to encourage you to check it out because, despite the content, it is a great read and I can’t wait for more.
Also, I got to do the cover art for her book which was an awesome experience. Thank you Helena!
Originally posted on Being the Memoirs of Helena Hann-Basquiat, Dilettante.:
Hello, darlings, it’s me, your favourite dilettante. I’ve been working hard, intent on finishing up what will likely be the last story from me for a while, as I’ve already mentioned.
I’m going to go away and start prepping Volume Two of the Memoirs for publication, but I’m leaving you with something special to tide you over until then.
A story about violence against women, which, considering today’s climate, is a story that needed to be told. It’s a story about hope, and the possibility of escaping our own prisons; the possibility of leaving Arcadia for good.
Starting Monday, I’m going to be posting the story a chapter at a time, one a day until the story is done.
For those of you who don’t want to wait, I’m publishing the novella as an e-book, which will be available for $0.99 on Amazon and as an e-pub for free from…
View original 90 more words
June 5, 2014
A CHILD’S DREAM
Another duet with Toad. I love writing with Toad and discovering all the places we can go. Also, he has moved blog addresses so follow his new blog here!
Written by Chris Jensen and HastyWords
We attempt a dream
of a fantasy
throughout
the inner child’s eye
imaginativeness
twinkle upon a wish
we gleam.
Creating moments
vanishing too fast
freeze frame glances
giving us a chance
on top of butterfly
wings we stand
and we’re carefree
From a butterfly
to dragon wings
floating majestically
within a wish
from a child dream.
Just a simple kiss
to waken us from
non-reachable
violent stream.
Eyes closed tight
we conquer life
inside magical
wishing wells
where reality
drowns the voices
waking us from
the soft comfort of
dreamy clouds.
BLOGGING GROUPS VS CLIQUES
If you are a blogger, chances are somebody dislikes you. Chances are somebody hates you. Chances are somebody out there is offended by your blog and maybe even who you are. Chances are you will hurt somebody without intending to. Maybe you are the type of blogger that blogs to push buttons and cause riotous discussions. Maybe you are the type of blogger that people look up to and admire. Maybe you have a talent that others love and connect to. Chances are that maybe blogging makes you happy and what others think doesn’t really matter.
The best thing about blogging is that anyone can do it. You don’t have to be a writer, in fact, some of my favorite blogs are written by non-writers. Everyone chooses the subject, tone, layout, or scheme and they are all individual works of art that people either like or they don’t. There are also blogs made up of more than one individual. Much like in real life, bloggers communicate, form friendships and enemies, they network, they find causes to support, they find niches they fit into, and if a blogger is lucky their blog feels like home to everyone who visits.
I have a daughter who is going into fifth grade, so the term cliques has started to become a discussion in our home. In our home we have had to define the difference between groups and cliques. This got me to thinking about the blogosphere. Is their such a thing as a “blogging clique” and is it a bad thing?
A clique is a group of “persons who interact with each other more regularly and intensely than others in the same setting”.[1] Interacting with cliques is part of normative social development regardless of gender, ethnicity, or popularity. Although cliques are most commonly studied during adolescence and middle childhood, they exist in all age groups~ Wikipedia
I like this definition because it defines a very normal social behavior. People who want to get to know each other, whether in real life or in the online community, spend a lot of time doing things together. In the blogging community this would include things like sharing and promoting blogs, collaborating, and having public conversations. This could be limited to the blogosphere or end up crossing over into other social media platforms. So using this definition a clique is what my daughter calls a group.
A clique is a small group of people who spend time together and who are not friendly to other people : a narrow exclusive circle or group of persons; especially : one held together by common interests, views, or purposes
I don’t like this definition BUT it is the definition that most people associate with the word clique. A group of “mean girls” who decide who can and who can’t be in their group. I think of the pink ladies /t-birds in Grease or the popular/nerds in Can’t Buy Me Love. It is natural to have a group of people you feel comfortable with that you share the same ideas and passions with. This term implies the clique in question is a bully. Some groups do bully but most do not.
Just for kicks let’s define bully:
According to dictionary.com a bully is a blustering, quarrelsome, overbearing person who habitually badgers and intimidates smaller or weaker people. ~ Dictionary.com
In my opinion, groups such as this; normally do not last long because societal pressure forces them to dissolve. Let’s take the KKK as the extreme example. They were a clique of men who had the same political and social ideals and who were violent bullies. Today it is our kids facing the bully mentality. When groups become us against them then they have crossed the line from being a group to being a group that bullies AKA a clique.
I love my blogging community. I started out just wanting to write, but I ended up creating a safe and comfortable home surrounded by a bunch of other homes, in a neighborhood community I enjoy. Do I ever feel left out of a block party down the street? Sure. Do I ever feel jealous when a group of bloggers have a collaborative “slumber party”? Sure. Is that bad? No. Should they be considered a clique because they hurt my feelings? No.
Take a blogging community I love, Tipsy Lit, for example. I am not a standing or listed member or contributor but I do support them and what they stand for and I enjoy posting and using their platform. Am I an INSIDER? No. Do I feel like and OUTSIDER? No. A group of woman and men came together to provide the backbone to a community they created for US. I feel the same about most community blogs. Do I believe they are cliques in the way that Merriam-Webster defines a click? Absolutely NOT.
For some bloggers though; group mentalities become a trigger. Not being included causes great pain and hurt. Maybe they had a childhood experience that made them feel inferior or insecure. Sometimes these feelings turn into anger and feelings of revenge. A person who feels rejected might lash out and begin blaming others for causing them to feel unworthy. They may believe any group to be a clique.
I am all too familiar with feelings of inadequacy, poor self-esteem, and unworthiness. Freshly-Pressed, for instance, is a group I want to be a member of but it alludes me. When those around me are bestowed the honor I am extremely happy for them but not at first. At first, my heart races, I ask myself what they have that I don’t, I become jealous and angry. Well, it is something I would love, it would validate my efforts as a blogger, and it would make me feel like an elite blogging superhero. Do these feelings make me a bad person? No.
When all the hurt feelings die down I realize it is a promotional tool WP uses to share its community of blogs. It is a good marketing tool and it strives to help bloggers make connections. Just because we are not asked to be a part of something, does NOT mean it is bad, a bully, or a clique.
Most blogging communities are NOT, in my opinion, considered cliques. They are groups that have come together because they have a common belief. When people come together under a united voice great things can happen. Community blogs and collaborative friendly blogs take a LOT of work and are a work of labor that deserves respect.
Chances are if you feel left out you will consider the group a clique. My advice would be to examine why you feel left out. Did you ask to be part of the group, and if you did and where rejected, was there a good reason for the rejection? Many groups have a hard time if they get too big. If you can’t be part of the initial team you can probably participate by guest posting. Most likely, if you feel left out you aren’t really trying very hard to be included.
Once I stopped being afraid of being left out I started working on participating. For instance, I may not be Freshly Pressed but I still support those that are and I still look at the Freshly Pressed feeds to support those I enjoy. I have made some great friends because of Freshly Pressed. Sometimes, you just need to change your perspective.
To end I would like to highlight some of the awesome collaborative opportunities I have seen and I would like to encourage you to try to find places that make you feel welcome. The places that feel like home to me may not feel like home to someone else. The blogosphere is a universe where everyone is someone. So get out there and explore and if one planet feels hostile try another one until you find a place to call home.
Oh and remember you don’t have to be in a group to be a bully. I believe “mean girl” mentality is a very individual journey and sometimes those individuals make up a clique. Blogging cliques will kick you OUT of groups and most likely bad mouth others. They will publicly ridicule anyone who doesn’t see things their way. There is a difference between airing differing opinions and being hateful. These bloggers, I think, are a minority and for very good reason. Be the positive force you want to see in the world and go out and multiply, or something like that!
There are hundreds of opportunities to take advantage of and here are just a couple of my favorites that came to mind to help you on your journey. Don’t forget you can also visit my collaboration efforts and participate by writing poetry with me by clicking here.
