I was trying to write about something else but couldn’t get this out of my head.
So I was doing my daily scroll through social media today. I was getting more and more anxious about the turmoil happening in my country. It was bad enough feeling angry myself because my daughter is already coming home crying because of a bully on the bus.
She is in kindergarten and another little girl in the same grade told her that her skin was gross and insisted she move into the other seat even though they aren’t allowed due to assigned seating. She also told the other little girl that Tessa is friends with in class not to talk to Tessa anymore. Now the first thing that came to my mind was that the girl was being racist. Tessa has always gravitated towards people of color. She has always loved their hairstyles and wants to get her hair braided with colorful beads.
The event really hurt Tessa’s feelings and she kept bringing it up all evening. She has always been pretty sensitive. As she talked more about it I realized that the issue wasn’t Tessa’s beautiful olive skin tone but because of her autoimmune disorder Eczema. It leaves her hands and legs looking dry and cracked, but not nearly as scaly as when she was a toddler. She has lived with it almost since birth and it has caused her so much discomfort and I wont allow it to cause her to be treated like a leper.
So last night I let her soak in an oatmeal bath. I rubbed coconut oil into her skin. Put a little steroid cream on the worst spots and a thick coat of Vaseline to try to keep in some moisture. I also painter her fingernails up super sparkly, so this morning she ran to the bus with renewed confidence and I guess as a mother that is the best I can do for my child… I also contacted the board of educations, transportation department, cause I’m not going to put up with that shit.
Also related to skin. I saw this picture and I couldn’t help comment to the poster about the ignorance.
If you agree with this then let me just tell you, please open your eyes. In Africa this very minute there are black people that own other black people. The chocolate that you eat, if it came from Africa there is a pretty big chance it was harvested by a slave. This is a story that I heard from a man that had been there and seen it first hand. I am sure if you do a little digging you will see that this is the same case in many other places around the would, so if people want to be angry about slavery they should definitely stop blaming white Americans like this suggests, but we should definitely still be angry about slavery. Slavery has never been about White against Black. Slavery is about stealing people from their homes, Human trafficking, ask Ashton Kutcher about it.
If people could only see past skin deep.
Today is the first day of kindergarten for the twins and I am so relieved to have them out of the house. Now its just me and Monica and all the animals. It’s so quiet…
So I made a new account on vampirefreaks.com which if you haven’t heard of, is like a cesspool of attention seeking people. It is the closest thing to myspace.com and neopets.com that still thrives and is appropriate for a person my age. Now I have to learn HTML all over again.
I love the site for the forums and all the cults (common interest groups) and I also like the attention I can get on there. I may also start an Instagram after I get vampirefreaks all sorted out, they have made some changes since the last account I had on there.
I made the account for two reasons. The first being that I am going absolutely nuts with no people to talk to in my life. Going out with my friend and just sitting around the table with adults talking, the other day made me realize people are good, and laughing relieves anxiety (even though being around people also can cause anxiety).
The second reason is because some of the people on there are so full of drama that I may find some good ideas for my short stories. So yes in a way I am studying people.
For any fellow vampire freaks feel free to look me up on there and if you have been reading my blog so far I would love to talk to you and hear about your teenage years. This would be confidential of course and if I did use any of the information for my writing the scenarios would very greatly, but I would give you a mention in my authors notes.
VF user: -_-angsty_writer-_-
Have you ever laid out at night and gazed at the stars? A few nights ago the Perseid Meteor Shower was passing by and somehow I managed to get both of my friends over to view it with me. It was pretty magical.
My friend Kristen had a telescope but we had trouble trying to focus it so we just scratched that idea. We pulled an old futon mattress that I usually leave stuffed in a closet, out onto the deck and all the spare pillows and blankets we could find. We bought out some assorted liquors and lit some candles. Then we laid there and waited.
The sky was clear at first, as we waited for two other friends to join us, we watched clouds roll by and talked to keep ourselves from falling asleep. The clouds where so interesting to watch. They moved so quickly across the sky, making interesting patterns.
We spent all night out there, but before the sun came up I was ready to go inside. My friends stayed outside, but I know the way the sun rises and shines directly on the deck and I wasn’t about to stay and experience that. Besides I knew in a few hours my kids would be up.
Even though I felt like crap the next day from exposure to the elements and a slight hangover, it was well worth it. The experience reminded me of my teenage years when the only thing that mattered was friendship and being together. It’s nice to know I can still feel that same kind of platonic love from friendships. I was starting to think it didn’t exist anymore.
I finished writing my second short story and three readers seem to like it better than the first… but the first on was pretty morbid. This one has a happy ending. Here is a small sample…
Daniel had never hung out with a person like Sherry before and he knew his mother would not approve. As Nicky and Tobias were busy flirting with each other Daniel and Sherry talked about random things. They sat on a plush couch in Tobias’s oversized entertainment room. Sherry showed him a tattoo that she had gotten from one of her mom’s friends. It was a Celtic triquetra knot that she explained was once a pagan symbol but the Catholic Church had integrated it into their religion. He had never realized that all these Christian beliefs his mother had taught to him had come from the pagan religions she had told him to fear and hate.
“You know, usually when I show a boy my tattoo they either gawk at my exposed boob or try to get handsie, not start asking me questions about it.” Sherry said laughing a little. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“I guess.” Daniel felt his cheeks grow hot. It was true that he didn’t really care much about her exposed skin.
“Do you like girls?” She leaned really close to him and whispered, “or boys?”
Daniel laughed nervously but he felt like he had finally found someone he could be open with, so he said. “I think that I like boys.”
“I knew it. I’m going to introduce you to my brother, Andrew.” She said happily. She pulled out her phone and began texting.
“I can’t really date, especially not a boy. My mom would kick me out of the house, and I don’t even know how to contact my dad right now.”
“She kicked him out. He was in love with gay porn apparently.”
Sherry failed to hold back a laugh. “I’m sorry, that is pretty messed up.”
“She goes into crazy prayer mode every time I mention him. It’s getting really old.”
I am working on my third story now. This character is pretty personal to me because she is based very loosely on my own experiences of teenage angst though hers will be a lot more extreme than mine. This story line has a lot going on because I had originally wanted to make it a novel in itself, so writing it is going slowly since I’m not sure how much to include in each short story.
If anyone is interested in reading my stories it would be nice to have around two more people to give me better feedback. Just send me a message.
because that makes sense…
Its funny how I was sitting here yesterday morning trying to finish my second story, but instead I drew a giant map of my city because it’s starting to get the point that I need to know exactly where all these places I am talking about are located. I pulled out the map that I used when I was trying to make a novel out of what is going to start in the third story. I have a thing for drawing maps.
I’ve decided to break up what is going on to a character over a couple stories because story two was getting pretty long and I think he needs more time to discover his sexuality…(mostly because I’m still not sure how to write about male on male love.) The stories will all be in chronological order. It will be interesting twisting all the plots together.
Later yesterday I sat back down to write and ended up looking up tidal information because I wanted to make my town on the coast, even though I have very little experience with it. I learned that it’s more common to have two sets of tides a day and not just one. I always thought that it would be high tide when the moon was out and low tide when it wasn’t, but that’s not the case. The tides are also more extreme in some areas of the world and are higher or lower at certain times of the month. All very important information if you want to keep a person hostage in a cave effected by the tide… or if you just want to explore in said cave.
I’m going to cut this short and try to finish my second story today, since yesterday was a bust. Hopefully you will get to read a section of it in my next post. J
What do men like about other men?
My second short story has me researching things that lead me to an articles called “What Men Like in Men: An Argument from 1902 | The Art of Manliness” Which was interesting to read but not exactly helpful. In this story the main character is trying to figure out his sexuality while dealing with his mothers religious veiws and I have to say this is bringing me a little out of my comfortable writing zone.
I suppose I could go read some gay erotica or something. I was just curious if a guy would find attractive the same things a female would find attractive about a man, because apparently my husband and I don’t find the same kind of men attractive according to our preference of Supernatural character. X)
My first short story went together a lot quicker that I expected as well. It’s only about five pages, but it all happens in like an hour of time. At this rate I may have this entire book finished by the end of the year. All I need is to find someone to check my work because my punctuation is terrible and I use too many filler words.
Since I have started writing again I have noticed that my brain has been more active. It feels like I am constantly talking to myself, which has made it difficult to fall asleep. I have been fighting off the urge to stay up all night righting because my twins are starting kindergarten this week and I really should be away in the morning when they get on the but. Gotta set an alarm for 7am. None of us are going to like that very much.
My dreams have also been more vivid since I started writing again, which I have never been a big fan of because sometimes they get pretty dark, but I guess I am glad that I am not normal because then I wouldn’t be able to come up with such kick ass stories.
Here is a bit from story number one… (still subject to future editing)… Enjoy!
The smell of decay was strong in the air which worried Grey more than Cherry. “Why did we ever stop coming out here?” she asked as she tried to pry open the warped door of the tree house. There was broken glass all over the place from the branches breaking through the windows.
“Your brother M-Mitch broke his leg falling down the ladder.” Grey said peering in one of the windows. “Do you r-really want to go in there? It’s gross.”
“Oh yea; Mom threw a fit about it,” Cherry said as she finally got the door to pop open. She stepped back and the floor board broke in half. She let out a loud scream as her foot went down into the floor. A piece of glass cut into her calf muscle.
“Here don’t move.” Grey dropped to his knees to help free her.
“Shit. My mom is going to be so pissed.” Cherry said. The tears she had been holding in all day finally began to pour out. She clung to Grey’s chest. “I don’t want to leave you.”
One thing that seems to shock people that I meet is that I don’t drive. I know how to drive a little I just prefer not to put others life in my hands because it is so hard for me to focus. I have a learners license and I’ve never takin the driving test, because the thought of driving a car without a co pilot sounds exhausting.
I can get around pretty well on my own though. When I was a teenager I would walk to the mall or to a friends house, sometimes eight or more miles away. Now a days I still get around town with my three kids on the bus.
When I first moved to Tennessee I was on a government program that gave me a little money for diapers and monthly expenses called Family First. I couldn’t find a paying job so I had to volunteer different places around town in order to stay on the program.
At the time my twins were three and the youngest was under a year, so I pushed the twins in a stroller and carried Monica on my chest to a daycare that was about a fourth of a mile from my house. From there I could ride the bus across town. I became familiar with the town pretty quickly because of that.
As Monica became too heavy to carry I started pulling them all in a wagon. The wagon was collapsible so I could easily get in on the bus as we switched daycares a few times. I started going to school and made mostly A’s. I stayed on top of all my work thanks to a magic pill called vyvance.
After the Wagon broke I just carried Monica and had Tessa and Alex walk. There is nothing scarier that standing on the side of a busy road with three small children. They run and play and are oblivious of the danger feet away from them, but they never run into the road and they always wait for me before crossing it. These days that are mostly perfect ducklings.
People stop and try to give us rides which I do accept when its pouring the raining. There is always danger in taking rides from strangers but I think I am a pretty good judge of situations. It’s usually other mothers that offer the rides. And if something did happen I have a gun that shoots mace that I have just been dying to try out.
The worst part of riding the bus is waiting outside. Some days the bus is thirty minutes late. The other day I was taking the girls to the dentist and we walked down the road past two bus stops before we found one close to some shade. The ground was so hot it felt like my feet were being cooked in my shoes. I did get a pretty nice tan that day.
I haven’t been getting out much for the past year. The twins are too old to ride the bus for free anymore but they are pretty short for five year olds so I’ve been getting away with it since November. I just don’t want to press my luck. I really need to start going out again because I’ve been gaining so much weight. BLAH.
I’ve become a writing machine.
So I am really thankful for my friend Kristen for encouraging me to start being creative again. I have actually been keeping up with my writing goal, though I am not going to be making this post 500 words because, I have been working on a short story the past few day that is well over 1000 words. It will become a series of short stories all taking place in the same town all with a similar theme of teenage angst. These stories I have had cooking in my brain for many years. They have already been plotted out to be novels but I think they will do much better in a collections.
I may post a small section of one on here later but I won’t be posting the whole stories because I do want to actually try and publish them. Even though no one reads this blog so it really wouldn’t matter if they were on here or not.
I feel like switching to this from my fantasy novel will be good because I am getting no where with it. Every time I start writing something I end up spending hours researching and taking notes on that instead… so much non fiction in my fiction.