I need space to think at times. There are so many things to do or to say so I need to feel like I can. I’m tired yet wide awake. I’m not sure where that fits in this grand scheme of my plans. I feel selfish when I feel like this. I feel frustration and sadness too. It hurts when I am angry and I don’t mean to hurt anyone ever, at all.
I love you but then I’m not sure if I really can enough. I need you yet I want my space. What is this all supposed to mean? This is a process of figuring out that at times you have to do what’s best even if you feel differently. Yet, navigating this can be so hard. I’ll find a way to understand you without judgement and this might help. I’m sorry is the simplest way to say it but it is also really hard. I want to quit at times but that really isn’t an option because it would lead to different problems and a whole set of others too. Instead, I look inward and dare to wish forward. In the end, it all changes and comes to a finish line which is hard to determine.
***
For #Novelpi, word count: 254 ~ Still writing and still learning!
D9: #Novelpi ~ The space between thoughts...
D8: #Novelpi ~ A Flower
I crept down the moonlit path. I didn't look too far ahead or to the sides. All around the thick air I could feel the immensity in waves of destruction. This feeling I could not shake even if I wasn't sure it was true. I dared not look around. I kept moving.Through all of this effort, a thought raged inside, to keep me focused toward the relief I needed to come. This was most important.
A massive feeling of doom threatened to overtake my heart but I managed to stave this ominous feeling by taking a minute to find a flower. I bent down to look at it closely. It was small, barely visible in the dust. Yet it peeked through the dirt in its purple and white brightness. It brought a smile to my lips as I realized that those colors were my school colors. I reveled in the memories of meeting the creature at this moment. I didn’t know why but it was happening in my memory now and I felt so relieved instead of the anxiety that a moment before had been upon me.
Looking forward enhanced the beauty of the experience and that’s when I had seen the flower. Yet looking back in the windows of memory had helped control my frustration that a critical moment like this with so much destruction had delivered. This had been my whole world but now it was no longer. My memory windows would have to work harder to replace this scene set before me. I closed my eyes for minute to think. I didn’t pick the flower. I left it there and I hope that it will bring hope to the next eyes who might see it. I hope they look and find it visibly there. I felt it would bring them the same hope that it did for me. This image in my mind felt wonderful.
***
For #Novelpi, word count: 283 ~ I'm still hanging on and processing many thoughts.
Poetry from My Purse - Finding the Miracle
Here's a poem that I found written in my purse. A while back, I had explained that I would post these from time to time. I did tweet the first few lines as Micropoetry on Twitter recently and I thought it would be nice to include the conclusion. What do you think?
As darkening waters existed over my world
I hoped to find the miracle that could bring me in from drowning
To treasure me, keep me safe
Even if only by listening to me
It unloads my hurt
opens my soul
makes me vulnerable
makes me love
I like the way that feels
Don’t leave my life
Don’t stop calling
No matter what you think
I may say
I’m here for you
The truth remains
through your presence
you brought me joy
and saved me from drowning.
***
NPI: Day 9
Day 9 word count: 92, 11:39 pm CT, I'm sorry it's not in me tonight - I'm a jumbled mess but I feel it will come later. I'm not giving up just give me a moment.
Words from Day 8 -
Looking forward enhanced the beauty of the experience and that’s when I had seen the flower. Yet looking back in the windows of memory had helped control my frustration that a critical moment like this with so much destruction had delivered. This had been my whole world but now it was no longer.
NPI: Day 8
Day 8 word count: 321, 11:41 pm CT. This was a bit tough to write through tonight. I admit it felt like an exercise that I wasn't super excited to do. I had wrote some things on a notepad earlier and felt it at that time but didn't finish until now so it lost its excitement for me. I should have taken the time to write more in that notepad. It reminds me that sometimes writing chooses me and I can't put it off.
A tidbit from Day 7:
A close bond formed without touch or even closeness only moments of brief conversation. Happiness in those moments were sweet. Better than candy, more like a strawberry. Still sweet but so much better for him in the end. This is what he would treasure now and cling to.
NPI: Day 7
Day 7 word count: 324, 11:58 pm CT, sorry I didn't get this recorded in time. Frantically and honestly, I'm working through this scene which is tough to convey in the way I was hoping for. It's ok but I wish that it would feel differntly as I wrote it. Sometimes I'm amazed at how emotional I can be to my own writing and then other times almost detached. I'm really learning of what a process this is for me and it truly is nice to write things down. I'm starting to feel the breathing of writing. I love it!
A little something from Day 6:
She wasn’t strong enough now. She reached out in times of need to imaginary friends. Those that felt they would help her but that was a fantasy because their realities were skewed even more than the depths of her own. Unimaginable but realistic.
NPI: Day 6
Day 6 word count: 336 11:44 p.m. CT
I'm squeaking in - whew - barely making it but I did!
Insight from Day 5:
It could be a coincidence but it is not an accident. It is in these moments that the power of purpose is felt. Lay down in the field of daffodil’s and feel a dream within you want to burst through the doors of your soul. The sun is comforting and the experience is rejuvenating. It will liven your spirit!
NPI: Day 5
Day 5 word count: 537, 11:24 pm CT
I feels to me right now that writing can be such an emotional roller coaster. I've had so much on my mind that I've had to take the time to write it out. This feels like a break in my WIP but it seems necessary for my emotional well-being. In the end, I hope that these thoughts will help a future WIP in some small way. If not, it has been great creative writing practice.
A thought written from Day 4:
In the never ending years of dreams and living, one starts to realize that all we have to share with others is our time. This is what matters. This is what we all want and desire. To share time with others. A simple act of gathering together to share a meal and eat together does more than nourish the body, it enriches our soul. The basic need of eating coupled with the basic desire to spend time with others and feel loved is precious. This is why we must reach out. We must never ignore love. In the end, it is all we have.
NPI: Day 4
Word Count: 456
Ok, so I'm frightfully close to the deadline tonight. I couldn't think of how I wanted the scene to work out. Then after talking to a friend, I realized I had to put to the written word what was really bothering me tonight. Once I worked that out, I was able to get some words to the page. Personal pain is important, even hard to deal with, but necessary to work through. Just like when I have a block, I just have to write through it. At least, that's what I hear works best and I hope that's the case.
A quote from Day 3:
More than he realized, he helped her too. She was too quiet to let this be known but her heart felt it. Secretly, she hoped that his heart felt what she couldn’t say. The few times that she had opened up would have to be enough for now. In time, things might be different.
NPI: Day 3
Day 3 word count: 1020
I have to admit that I didn't expect this many words today. Cool! I feel I'm doing alright so far and I'm learning that I really need practice writing dialogue which is not coming naturally for me. I've been afraid of this for a while. I plan to just keep writing it, even if it seems bad, and hopefully that will be enough to push through and get used to it eventually. I do admit that I like the ideas forming in my current WIP.
Here's a snipit from Day 2's writing: Lightly - ever so lightly - the rain fell upon the grass.
.
It watered each tiny strand
it refreshed the earth
to nourish it
and bring to life the effects of Spring
NPI: Day 2
NPI(Novel Push Initiative) Day 2: 404 words, 7:22 pm CT, not too shabby today. :)
So far, so good. I wrote later in the day today which may happen on the weekends, I think. During the week, I'd like to stick to my morning writing routine. Today, I wrote more feelings from an idea racing around in my head. In the back of my mind, I hope to develop this into a WIP(work in progress) that I'd like to keep developing.
As promised, here's a tidbit of my writing from Day 1:For when the heart is lonely, it is hard to feel anything else. She longs for the simple solution such as a phone call, a letter or could she dare even hope for the gentlest of an embrace. It almost feels like a frightened cat is tormented within her tortured heart. Musical lyrics come rushing back to soothe her angry soul. It will happen, one way or another.
NPI: Today is the beginning...
of the Novel Push Initiative. I'm happy to have discovered this through Twitter and I look forward to participating. So far, so good as I'm off to a roaring start this morning by writing 884 words. My goal is 250 words per day and out of those words I just typed up about that many are most likely quality words so I'm feeling great for today already! Yippee! I'll be updating here and on Twitter on how I'm doing with this challenge during October. Perhaps, I'll share a few samples or teaser quotes as well.
I'm also happy to have found a wonderful writer and writing partner on Twitter, Shadow, who has really boosted my spirits during September. She has given me the confidence through her efforts of inspiring me so I felt that I could finally give a contest like this a try as well. Thanks so much, Shadow! I'll be looking forward to your encouragement!
Also, my friends Robin and Carrie have once again been coming to my Scrapbooking group and their encouragement for me to write is helping so much! Even just talking about writing has inspired my imagination too. Carrie is so sweet to text the word "write" to me once a day to prompt me to remember to do so - perhaps with something I said. Robin is an advanced writer and I just found out that she'll also be doing the NPI challenge too! This is going to be great!
Wow, all of this will definitely gear me up for NaNoWriMo this year! I'm looking forward to attempting this challenge that was so elusive for me last year where Erin was my hero with accomplishing that last year. And don't let her fool you, I think what she wrote last year during NaNoWriMo rocked! Way to go and meet your goals, Erin!
I'm also hoping to participate in another writing group again. I've missed that. I hope that it will go well. It may vary how often I can go because the times they will be meeting conflict a little with my schedule but I will make an attempt to go as much as I am able.
Writing equals happiness for me!
Writing quotes:
The act of putting pen to paper encourages pause for thought, this in turn makes us think more deeply about life, which helps us regain our equilibrium. ~Norbet Platt
It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? For the moment passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone; life itself is gone. That is where the writer scores over his fellows: he catches the changes of his mind on the hop. ~Vita Sackville-West
And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt. ~Sylvia Plath
So often is the virgin sheet of paper more real than what one has to say, and so often one regrets having marred it. ~Harold Acton, Memoirs of an Aesthete, 1948
The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say. ~Anaïs Nin
Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia. ~E.L. Doctorow
Most of all, this is what I'm aiming for myself since I will be making every effort to write each morning:
Writing became such a process of discovery that I couldn't wait to get to work in the morning: I wanted to know what I was going to say. ~Sharon O'Brien
Starting again with Poetry
I've been processing in my mind back and forth about this blog. I've been really struggling with blogging very much of anything lately. I've thought about deleting it entirely but I don't think I can do that even. I've put effort into this blog whether or not I'm writing on here. I love to write and I looked on blogging as a fun way to keep a log of what I love. That's what this blog is all about. Ideas & reflection. Eventually, I'm sure I'll get back to writing and blogging more. I actually have a notebook full of ideas that I'd like to write into blogs but I obviously haven't as of yet. I've even considered just starting a whole new blog over but I'm not sure if that's the answer yet either until I'm ready to be more consistent and serious as that's what I feel I should be about blogging. So, for now I shared this poem recently again with a poetry group and as I'm awaiting their thoughts I thought I'd start somewhere again on this blog and share it with you.
Here is a poem I wrote mainly to provide awareness for mental illness. It is very real and deep for those who experience it and for others around them experiencing it along with them and struggling to understand, whether or not to help but most of all trying to love them unconditionally. Even I feel a need to be more aware and understanding of this real issue so that's why I wrote this in March of 2008. This is a raw draft. Anyway, I'm curious as to what you might think of my poetry anyway. Here goes:
Mental Twist
By Julie A. Carter
There is a pain
a twist inside
I don’t understand
buried deep within
I can feel it now
almost as if it were
hidden in the shadows
amongst tiny crevices
yet its twisted and creeps up
through my heart
spiraling, tingling
a hurtful sensation
physically sick
“Anxiety, they tell me
Calm your nerves.”
I can’t - -
I don’t understand why
I thought my life was going great
I thought I was easy going,
Even optimistic
What do you mean, I’m not?
“Medication, that’s what you need
Then it will go away
You’ll function again.”
I try, but it’s strange
and new - -
Actually, I can’t think
I feel
numb
Perhaps before I could
feel
but I’m forgetting about
before
All I know is
I just hurt - -
There is a pain
a twist inside
I don’t understand
*image taken from this blog.
Today I'll share a poem with you
by Julie A. Carter
Let me dream in fantasy;
haunting love
of delicious dewdrops,
magical lily pads,
where worlds are born anew.
In your caress
love blooms
as butterfly wings.
Oh, don’t flutter away
or find me lost;
Let me come to save you
from haunting deep
or tainted troubles.
That actually change
shape or form;
As if only a ghost
would know its indescribable
beauty from whence
we learn of our own
becoming…
Ink Notes # 5
Ink Notes # 4
In the darkness, the stars sat still amongst the sky. A horse adjusted his footing and breathed out in a whine. Faintly, in the stillness, a warrior had his head buried between his legs. It was dreadfully quiet and he did his best to maintain the soberness although pain seared through his heart. He knew, all too well, that his life had been altered forever. His Captain, oh sweet Captain, had been slain. Never in his life had he been as inspired as much as he had would she would speak. He could hear her strong voice now as thunder rumbling inside his mind. He felt sick. He questioned everything. He trusted no one.
The dust swirled around about him as he looked at the vast open land that shadowed where the war had been. It seemed as if all time stood still now for so many were gone. His delicate eyes had seen too much and distaste filled his mouth as he gazed upon it. He remembered such hard times wishing he could run away from the madness but his loyalty made him stay. He would fight and he did because he triumphed her cause. He knew he had been fashioned into something better for joining the rebellion. He knew her face would linger in his mind for all time. He wished, even dreamt, that the outcome had been different. Couldn't he could have paid the ultimate price instead?
Where would his life lead him now? What would happen to her brilliant army?, he thought. He knew the rules and they wouldn't change them just for peace. Control by the leadership may be regained and the all to real punishments would be carried out to prove their point. He worried incessantly: Couldn't they see how courageous all of his fellow warriors had been in the face of such disgusting cruelty? Who would they follow now and where would it lead them? The fight had needed to be fought but now he anguished that the price had been too high. He believed no one and didn't trust his own thoughts. Even the thoughts he had of her would not stop, even as he tried to forget, and what she did for their world. His soul had changed. He had to remember what others would not. So many had made their decision that she was evil, perhaps, possessed. All of this came about because of a thread of lies, as though their own deception, it had triggered their unbelief. Instead he deeply felt belief, that with what he knew had truly happened in those chaotic final moments it would change the legacy of her destiny and now also his own. He had never wanted this responsibility but he also knew that even without her he couldn't give up. Not now, when the rebellion had seemed to worked as long as it had.
Ink Notes # 3
The Bird Cage
Feathers quickly ruffled and a bell lightly rung inside the white bird cage. Doreen couldn't help but turn her head to look at her mint green parakeet perched on its swing. She smiled happily awaiting the arrival of Maggie. Today was Maggie's day to clean out the bird cage and do a few other things around the small house for Doreen. Her house didn't seem much now but it had served her and her family well. For a minute, she closed her eyes and remembered moving in all those years ago. She could feel the energy and excitement that day had brought to her and her family. A new house, their very own house, she imagined and could almost hear the back door slam again as her two boys, so small at that time, ran out into the backyard giggling. A carefree moment for them that at that time hadn't seemed so fleeting.
Now, her legs ached and cramped each day and it was hard to get around as much as she used to. It was all part of the process for an old woman but she didn't feel that way on the inside. If her body would allow her to do as she felt than she would be as energetic as ever but that's not how it goes. As the clock chimed in, interrupting her thoughts, Doreen glanced up noticing that it was now 3 o'clock. She knew school hours were up and she counted on the fact that it wouldn't be long now for Maggie to arrive. It was a bright spot in her week and something to look forward to. She wondered briefly how Maggie felt about coming but then decided that it might not matter. It was enjoyable to Doreen and hopefully that would be enough. Although, there were times she wished that she could take care of things around her own house she was wise enough to realize that her independence was slowly vanishing. She was grateful that she could at least live on her own for the most part and she wanted to reside here for as long as she could. It would be harder to leave her tiny home, she thought.
__
"Hi, Mrs. Oliver, Maggie said as she quietly entered in the front door to Doreen's home. "How are you today? I'm pleasantly at your service."
Doreen fought back a smile and looked up at Maggie mischievously as she handed her a handwritten note.
Maggie took it and started to read what she'd be up to for the next couple of hours.
"Alrighty then, Mrs. Oliver, I'll get started cleaning out Minty's cage first."
Doreen grunted or it could have been a slight giggle but Maggie wasn't sure. She had her suspicion that the elderly lady liked her but it was always unclear with Mrs. Oliver. All that she knew for sure was that there was a little list to occupy her time and in the end she was sure it helped her out. For some reason, whether it was getting out of her chores at her own house for a bit or forgetting her troubles in her teenage life, it was a nice little moment of time for Maggie to spend helping Mrs. Oliver. It was enjoyable for Maggie and hopefully that would be enough.
__
Soon Maggie had all the chores done on the list.
"Will there be anything else for me today, Mrs. Oliver?" asked Maggie.
"Yes, let's sit and play a few rounds of the dice game before your mother arrives." Doreen simply answered.
Maggie retrieved the dice from the kitchen table and she sat on couch in front of the coffee table facing Doreen. They silently played a few rounds of the dice game, Doreen only interjecting a few times to explain the rules or mark down the score in the same little red notepad that was always used for that purpose. Maggie realized it must have now contained a listing of all the dice games that they had ever played.
"Maggie, if you could refill my mug with some ice water, I'd appreciate it."
"Okey-dokey."
Maggie obediently refilled the mug than came back to sit down on the couch. She started nervously talking to Doreen about her day at school as she waited for her mother to pick her up. It seemed like a long time but it was only a few short minutes and Maggie heard the familiar honk of her mother's van. Maggie stood up and Doreen held out her hand for a simple handshake. For some reason, after Maggie shook Doreen's hand she couldn't help but give her a slight but warm hug as well. Doreen received it but said nothing.
"Goodbye, Mrs. Oliver. I'll see you next week."
"Goodbye, Maggie."
__
A few days later, Maggie was studying in her room and her mother came in.
"Maggie, I have something I need to tell you."
"Alright, Mom, what is it?"
Her mother's face fell and her voice grew serious, "Maggie, Mrs. Oliver passed away this afternoon."
Maggie couldn't say anything.
"She left you this note and her son said that after you read it you could call the number within to coordinate with him when you pick up whatever the note says you could have of Mrs. Oliver's. I haven't read it so I don't know what it says."
Her mother handed Maggie the note and then left.
Maggie's hands trembled slightly. She opened the note and read the few words that it contained:
Dear Maggie,
I'd like you to have Minty, my parakeet.
My son has handwritten his telephone number at the bottom so you can call him for pick-up. He'll have a brown paper bag for you as well.
Thanks,
(signed) Mrs. Doreen Oliver
Maggie simply couldn't imagine what Doreen would have in the paper bag. She was surprised enough to inherit the parakeet. She dialed the number on the phone.
__
A couple of days later, Maggie's mother took her to Doreen's house a day before she usually rode the bus from school to arrive there for her normal time to help her out. Doreen's son was waiting on the front porch holding the bird cage and a brown paper bag which actually looked full of groceries.
Doreen's son greeted them.
"I'm not surprised my mom's giving you this little bird. It always drove me crazy when I came to visit. Here you go."
"Thanks a bunch." Maggie said brightly. "I'll take care of it."
"Okay, you're welcome."
Maggie carried the bird cage to the van and Doreen's son carried the paper bag and placed it down on the van's floor alongside the bird cage then Maggie sat down.
Maggie's mom drove off.
__
Maggie couldn't wait to be alone in her room and open the brown paper bag. She set Minty carefully on the small table she had prepared for the cage. The white bird cage looked very nice on it. Maggie sat down and opened the up the bag. First of all, it was full of all the things that the parakeet would need but at the very bottom she noticed a tiny black velvet bag. Maggie opened it expectantly with some knowledge that it contained the dice they always used to play the dice game with but there was something she hadn't expected to find as well.
The tiny red notebook.
All the dice games she had ever played with Mrs. Oliver.
Maggie smiled.
***
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