Monday, May 23, 2016

I Talk to Myself

I'm a very good listener. People will tell me all kinds of things. I guess I seem trustworthy. Most of my conversations consist of people telling me their life story and me just sitting there, nodding, being encouraging. This happens to me all the time. And I'm usually too polite to tell them to shut up. 

I'm not a talker. It's not that I don't have anything to say. I just usually have too many things going on in my brain at one time. Plus, I'm just better at processing written words than spoken words. Is that weird? I don't know. 

You know what's funny, though? I talk to myself all the time. At home. Laying in bed. In the bathroom. I have to remind myself not to do it in public bathrooms, though, because I have definitely gotten some strange looks. 

The best place for talking to myself, though, is the car. I do it so often that my boys will sometimes stop their own conversations and ask, "Mommy, who are you talking to??" Um, the best listener in the world, duh. 

Sometimes I practice important conversations that I want to have. Sometimes I finish conversations that I've already had. Sometimes I tell silly jokes. Or I change the lyrics to songs on the radio and make them totally ridiculous ("This is my white thong!" is one of my favorites.)

So yes. I'm one of those weirdos who not only talks to herself, but also answers back. Whatchoo talkin' bout, Willis?? 

"A man speaking sense to himself is no madder than a man speaking nonsense not to himself." ~Tom Stoppard

Sunday, May 22, 2016

Coffee Always Helps

I was getting coffee earlier this afternoon and I was struck by the quiet comfort of the coffee shop. People talking in hushed whispers, just enjoying their coffee and their companion, or book, or laptop. It felt nice. I haven't ever done it - gone to a coffee shop to just sit and enjoy myself. 

Why do I always feel guilty about taking time for myself? Being away for an hour at a coffee shop will not end the world. But I always make excuses about why I shouldn't do it. 

Excuses and guilt are like the kissing cousins of douchebaggery. 

I need me time. I need time to be alone with my thoughts. I need time to blow off steam. I need to be my own person, before going back to being the person who is needed by several other people. 

Feeling guilty about being yourself is like feeling guilty about breathing. It's stupid. 

Bottom line is - listen to your inner voice, but sometimes take the conversation with a grain of salt. We program ourselves with a ton of negative bullshit, so your first instinct isn't always your best one. 

P.S. Drink lots of coffee. Coffee always helps. 

Thursday, May 19, 2016

The Waiting Game is Over

The Waiting Game is Over. I'm tired of not living life to the fullest. |

I don't have a lot of patience. I think of something and then I want to do it. Immediately. It's like instant gratification on steroids. And when I can't do it, which is like 99% of the time, I get antsy. My mind jumps from one thought to another. I get stressed out. I don't sleep. I eat wayyyy too much. It's just all around not fun. 

People always say that good things come to those who wait. Well, clearly I'm screwed. I don't understand why we have to be bound by a certain path in life. A certain set of rules. Who makes up these fucking rules? I want to make my own rules. Forge my own path. I don't even know what that looks like. But I'm chomping at the bit to get there. 

I was in my car today and I wondered what would happen if I just kept driving instead of going home. There's no place in particular that I want to go. But what if I just drove until I didn't want to drive anymore? Where would I end up? What would happen? What stories would I have to share? What interesting people would I meet? Would I hate every minute of it? Who knows.

I feel like I'm always waiting for something to happen. But that something never comes. Or the something mutates into another something and then I start waiting for that. I'm probably not even making sense. But the point is - I'm tired of being patient. I'm tired of doing what I'm told. I'm tired of living by other people's rules. 

The waiting game is over. I won't do it anymore. Which is scary and exciting all at once. 

What are YOU waiting for? 

*This post was inspired by the weekly writing prompt at The Figment forum. Looking for writing inspiration? Check us out. 

Monday, May 16, 2016

My Biggest Fear...

My biggest fear... failing my children. never realizing my dreams. never being good enough. For myself or anyone else. never finding inner peace. always wondering, What if? living in a world torn apart by hate. stifled creativity and extinguished sparks. unhappiness. being crippled by fear. 

This post was inspired by the weekly writing prompt from The Figment. Looking for your writer squad? Come join us and check out our brand-spanking-new website

Sunday, May 15, 2016

Down the Rabbit Hole - Part 2

Catch up on part 1 of the story here

Alice in Wonderland retelling

Allie squinted in the darkness. It smelled dusty inside. Her eyes began to adjust and she could make out some tables and chairs strewn around, and a hallway that led to more darkness. 

"Tim," she whispered. "Tim!"

"Shh. I'm right here," he responded quietly. "Come on." He led her towards the hallway. 

"What is this place?" she asked. He didn't respond. 

As they made their way down the hallway, Allie could hear a voice. It got louder and louder as they approached. At the end of the hallway, there was a room and a soft light spilled out. That's where the voice was coming from. 

"I don't care what happened. Just find him. Or I'll have your head!" the voice yelled, and then slammed down the phone. Allie and Tim stood silently in the doorway. The voice belonged to a woman, who was huffing violently. She whirled around and pierced them with her angry glare. "Oh. Hello, Tim. Where have you been? My guys have been all over town looking for you." Her tone had changed, from angry to menacingly sweet. 

Allie felt Tim squeeze her hand reassuringly. "Hey, Regina. I'm sorry I'm late. I came as quick as I could." 

Regina inhaled sharply. "Keep your 'sorry'. I've told you a hundred times that punctuality is important to me. Very important." She paused. "Who is this?" She pointed at Allie. 

"This is my girlfriend, Allie." 

"Girlfriend, eh?" Regina chuckled dismissively. "Hello, Allie. You're a pretty girl. What are you doing with this loser? He's in a lot of trouble with me, did you know that? And now you are, too." 

Allie felt a cold chill down her spine. She wasn't sure what the hell was going on, but she knew it wasn't good. "I don't understand. I haven't done anything. I don't know what you're talking about," she answered nervously. She saw Tim imperceptibly shake his head. He was trying to tell her something. 

"Oh, you don't know. I see. I guess you expect me to care what it is that you do and do not know, is that it?" Regina stepped closer to Allie. She began to laugh, her large belly shaking in her too-tight shirt. It had a picture of a playing card with the queen of hearts on it. Allie thought that was a little ironic, as there was nothing at all loving about this woman. 

Allie realized Regina was waiting for an answer. "Um. No, I suppose not," she stammered. Tim squeezed her hand again. Regina looked at her for a brief moment and then turned her attention back to Tim. 

"So. Little rabbit. You care to explain where you've been? I ask you to do one simple thing, and you can't even do that. You know what I do to people who don't follow my directions?"

Tim nodded. "I know. I'm prepared to accept the consequences." Allie could feel his arm trembling. 

Regina seemed disappointed. "Hmm. No fight in you, huh? You think you're a martyr or something? What's the fun in that? Now this one," she gestured at Allie, "she's got a pretty little neck. Maybe I'll take your punishment out on her. How does that sound?" 

Allie, still utterly confused as to what was happening, blurted out, "No, please. I don't know anything. I have no idea who you are or what's going on. Please don't hurt me. Just let me go." 

Regina smiled dangerously. "Oh yes. This will be fun," she whispered.

To be continued... 

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

What I Do Not Say

A poem about what I do not say

There's so many things that I do not say. 
You couldn't hear me anyway from that other page. 
My silence speaks volumes, is how the saying goes. 
The gap gets ever wider and yet you just froze. 

I scream in my head and beg for you to hear. 
But you dance around my cries like an expert puppeteer. 
One day the silence will be all that's left. 
Perfect for ears that are deaf. 

I can't describe how miserable I feel. 
I could try, but I have tried, so what's the appeal? 
The rain keeps falling every single day. 
It's the soundtrack of our lives, the perfect shade of gray. 

What I do not say
Could fill the pages of a Shakespearean play. 
Of this I am 100% certain. 
Will you open or close the curtain?

My sadness grows little by little. 
It's as useless to me as a nickel. 
I've lost my way somehow. 
I wish you could fix me now. 

*Original poem by me

Monday, May 9, 2016


Two steps forward. One step back. 
It's not about a Paula Abdul song.
Just life not cutting me some slack. 

The rain keeps falling - drip, drip, drip. 
I walk endlessly, getting soaked to my soul. 
Inevitably, life sticks its foot out and I trip. 

Face first, down into a puddle I go. 
Muddy, angry, sad - I don't know how to feel. 
But it doesn't matter, this tale of woe. 

I send out love.
It sends back a laugh.  
And just for fun, a great big shove. 

Water everywhere, I can feel it in my bones. 
It's dragging me down, so far, so fast. 
Dumping behind me a box of stones. 

It's bound to happen - triggered by a jinx. 
Keep a careful eye on life,
Sending out its cruel winks. 

Two steps forward. One step back. 
I don't even know anymore, 
A great many things I lack. 

*Original poem by me