The Flat-Out Terror of Getting Published

Okay, dear readers, it’s official. I am going to be a published poet/author. Granted, my poetry book is self-published, but’s still putting my written word out there.

Sometime this March May (thanks, Trent’s World, for noticing that/commenting on it! 🙂 ), my poems will be released (inflicted?) upon the world. Brace yourselves!

Will keep you posted re: author website, promotional events/goodies and all that fun stuff.

Thanks for being along with the ride!

Reprising a Nocturne

 

Reprising a Nocturne

How would I play it this time?

As you hint at a second chance

At least, in my imagination,

or composed in last night’s dream.

Again, the wolf howls for the raven

to return.

Again, we dream each other close,

sleeping safe in amber.

Again, I awake with your echo in my heart

and on my skin.

Again, I promise you something real.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s been a long way down…

Or maybe we never really rose up.

Maybe I’ve been watching too many bleak television shows. (But, that’s not an apology, mind you.)

Coming off of watching The Killing, and now wrapping up the last of Torchwood.

Really hitting me about having to be human, especially looking around at the world.

I never really realised how I always felt like an outsider, but my awareness about being human has shifted over the past month or so. Or maybe just remembering how my awareness used to be when I was a kid.

Trees were amazingly vibrant friends.

Plants sang to me.

To recycle a phrase that’s probably grown cliche (or a borrowed quote from some other human somewhere), I felt their pain with all the “intensity of a thousand knives” hitting me all at once. When trees were being cut down, that pain that I felt was excruciating and unbearable. I wanted to scream with the agony I felt. Sure, you could probably chalk it up to just being an imaginative and sensitive kid, but it didn’t erase how I felt. Especially when I had to be the plant murderer (i.e. mow the grass, trim plants, etc. *wry laugh*). I would be standing there with a pair of hedge clippers just sobbing my little kid heart out. (Yep, I was a weird one!)

I tried. I tried to adopt that normal human insensitivity to non-human life forms. For a while, I succeeded in turning it off. In building up a fortress of protection. But the older I get, the more that fortress crumbles. And I’m back in a morass of emotion, and conflict. It’s like being a teenager, but even worse in some ways.

Animals look at me with souls of the ancients…tolerant, loving, inscrutable, and, sometimes, (rightfully!) angry and/or scared of me as a human that’s come bumbling into their midst. And I love them for it. Because they should be scared and angry.

Yesterday, I saw the article about the whales beaching themselves in Florida. And it was so unemotional. “Why,” I screamed. “How?” “What the f*ck are we doing about it?” And, the answer is nothing. There’s no change we can implement soon enough. Even if we did (and do) care, it’s not enough. There’s nothing we can do.

Because we are human.

And I have never been more ashamed of that fact than right now.

I don’t want to live on a planet without bees and birds and animals and trees and plants and water and oceans and fish and whales and everything else that is a non-human life form.

Akin my (faulty?) memory of Medea (from when I was in middle school), when she talks about being underwater and the fish eating the flesh from her bones until she is pure and white, that’s what I feel sometimes.

Like I want to strip off my human skin and transform into an animal. Or a bird. Or even the air, or an unknown fantastical elemental. Anything but a creature that’s linked biologically to the human race. Enough with cell phones and social media and television and money and stuffy stuff and banal work and being hated and being insulted and put down and being ignored and losing…everything.

And, yes, I know that’s not possible.

But that’s what I wish. have wished since I was a child. And that I could fix things. Help make people around me understand. Help make sure that evil doesn’t win. Like so many kids, maybe, I wanted to be a hero.

But now I just feel helpless.

I am a coward.

I am weak.

I am so very tired.

 

 

 

Shopping Time!

 

Been shopping for cover artists to do a cover for my poetry book! It’s a lot of fun looking through DeviantArt and such, but also really overwhelming! Might hit up the art & design school here as a way to simplify the process. And then I get to “buy” local!

Feel free to share any recommendations/tips in the comments, fellow writers and artists!

P.S. So, I came across this article, and it wasn’t usually in my “interest” comfort zone (or so I thought) but f*ck if it wasn’t a great read. Holy cow, you have got to give it a chance to suck you in: http://www.curbed.com/2017/1/11/14190322/paint-colors-taffy-brodesser-akner

P.P.S. How do you like the new blog look?

Scrambled Sunday x10

 

Muddled would be a good word for the day. Or the week. My eyes/vision has been a little more wonky this past week.

But, then, everything is (still) going wonky. I’ve been trying to meditate and focus on healing and chakras and mindfulness and all that kind of crap, but it’s a frustrating process sometimes, for someone who’s more action- and results-orientated. I wish I had the magic to heal my eyes myself. Or to fix things this 437th (transition) time around. Let’s just say I’m not very good at the whole passive acceptance thing. ROFL.

Been trying to look at blogs but I’m afraid my very old computer (by modern-day standards) might be dying. Or it’s my internet. It feels like the old days of dial-up when you were just staring at that little hourglass going around and around, only now it’s a circle. Still annoying though. A lot of the blogs I subscribe to never even loaded and eventually I had to shut them down. It’s been like that all week. So, sorry if I failed to stop by your blog! 🙂

Then I went somewhere for someone else’s celebration and was staring at what I think is a new food trend–deconstruction/deconstructed. The lemon tart I ordered looked very pretty and artistic but I just couldn’t understand why it was in pieces. Perfect blobs of meringue on one side, dots of some dark red jelly, a rectangle of jiggly lemon filling standing in the middle, and a bunch of crumbles to its left. I was perplexed by the dish. I guess the concept of fancy food is lost on me. *laugh*

But a lot is perplexing me these days. Kinda stuck in a morass of confusion right now while I try to figure things out. Or not. Just sit here and wait for things to come, because endless striving doesn’t seem to bring anything closer?

But, I am having really amazing dreams, for the most part. When they’re not about people I used to know have died without me knowing about it and are now ghosts and watching me as I go through my sad little life routines. 🙂 In real ghost life, they probably have much better things to be doing. A lot of the dreams I’ve been having, I’ve been channelling into poems. The dreams I’ve been having are about the only thing that makes sense right now, which is even more confusing because they aren’t real. As far as I know, anyway. Except for maybe a couple about…well, I’ll keep that a mystery to the general public. My dreams have got me thinking a lot about reincarnation, though I’m still the skeptical science type in some ways.

But, on the real life side, I got my manuscript back from the individual who was editing it (brave soul!). So, I have to get on rewrites. Which I’m excited about, yet also dreading. It’s a mystery/suspense revolving around the issue of human trafficking.

 

So that’s it in my chaotic world. Hope your Sunday is a lot less scrambled!

Anybody else feeling the lure of the fae this week?

 

 

Limbo of Past and Future, Conjoined.

 

The Cure’s “Doing the Unstuck”

A weird TBT post, I know. But things are weird in the Chaos Realm as of late. Weirder than usual, anyway.

Been seeing the previews for that TV show, Timeless, on NBC. I really thought it was a show  based on the books by Connie Willis (about the exploits of time-traveling historians/history detectives.) but it wasn’t, sadly. Or thankfully, since I typically like the book versions better.

Right now, like a time traveller perhaps, I feel stuck between my past and a nebulous future (imagine if there really were such a thing as reincarnation, and you were getting hints of your future life–that’s what it feels like). It’s really weird, like depression, but not really, just a confusing mass of sh*t that’s all swirling around and hard to figure out. Or move forward. Limbo, essentially. Or a purgatory, Dante-style. And it’s not even really good nostalgia, either, just more of a hindsight wake-up call about the things I should done differently, and how I should have reacted to the situations I was in–made different decisions–chose a different path, character-wise. Chose to be me in different, better ways. It’s weird, because I’ve never been one to really dwell on things, just pick myself up, dust myself off, and plan a new adventure, or a new life track. But, after 437 beat-downs/put-downs, I’m feeling a little weary, as you can imagine. LOL Maybe I’m thinking about all this as part of life lessons for a next life…or so goes the thought path my imagination runs away with, on occasion. (The curse of being a creative thinker–always walking that fine line between imagination and madness, right? Those gymnastics Olympians on the balance beam have nothing on us!).

It’s like the past and some unknown future are being combined into one, and I can see the path lines that are shaping me up for a future. Time in the present feels like doesn’t really exist in this little limbo pocket of introspection right now. It’s a very odd sensation, because I’m going about my business of (endlessly) trying to find a job, feed the cat, go to the store, pay bills, take the trash to the dump, clean house, and other mundane life stuff.

Just trying to find meaning to it all. Sometimes there’s a little light in flashes of synchronicity (coincidence, I know) in lucid dreams that I’ve been having that are just so vivid, even for this dreamer of five to six lifelike dreams a night.

A few nights ago, I dreamed I was trying to warn someone to evacuate with their animals, and it kinda turned into a nightmare. I was screaming at them, “Just leave. You’re in danger.” but they just went about their day, like I was invisible. I didn’t even know what the danger was, but somebody was harassing me to make sure I told this individual. Like I was at work, and had to get a job done, but I was just slacking off. I didn’t even really know who the individual was, really, I have just attached the moniker “Figment” to the individual (as in figment of my imagination, of course) just because they keep appearing in my dreams.

So, I’m just trying to meditate, perform little rituals to anyone who may be listening, make a bucket list for my future life (lives) just for fun, write, and dream of figments and other worlds. Maybe out of all these practices, guidance will come from somewhere. Because I’m quite stuck. And I’m not used to being stuck. Or in an indecisive limbo. (<–bulldozer in human form.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Religion and Hate…

 

Yep, the Chaos Fairy definitely has moments of misanthropy (you guys know that), but I just don’t get the extended duration of religion-based hatred and intolerance. [I’ve been thinking about it lately, especially with all of Trump’s insanity (and that of his followers) flying around the internet].

Part of  today’s blog entry was also inspired by the fact that I got to go to the New Mexico History Museum on a guest pass today (to the awesome low-rider exhibit!) and viewed the “Fractured Faiths: Spanish Judaism, The Inquisition, and New World Identities” exhibit as well.

It’s just so crazy the extent people go to in the name of their religion. Yes, you can dissect (as an academic historian, I have) the social and political trends (from a historical/historian’s perspective) that also help foster said intolerance, but it’s still astounding, especially standing there reading the names on the exhibit’s wall of people burned at the stake or even burned in effigy (because they managed to escape), or even just had their bones burned. (You should check out the exhibit, btw.)

Not to trivialize the often-horrifying fate of past and present/modern victims of religious-fueled hatred, but, holy crap (no pun intended), it just seems so immature. Like a pissing contest among (all the major) religions’ overzealous purveyors–I just envision wee children on a playground taunting each other–or I would if the consequences weren’t horribly lethal and sick in their level of hatred.

The fact that these are fully grown, mature adults, with the full force of political or social power, governments, (in charge of) whole countries, and/or armies/weapons at their fingertips (still!), playing this game of religious dominance–that just astounds me. And terrifies me. It’s embodied by Trump in the current climate, even though it’s been permeating our culture and our world for a long time (I know that).

Why can’t you just have your God/Goddess/Multitude of deities/Spiritual beliefs and I have mine? Or the freedom not to have any, since science has shown there’s really nothing up in the firmament anyway, (or in the higher regions of Earth) so…what’s the big deal if I want to worship some earth-mother-goddess force and your god the only male. It’s just a different definition/view on the same godlike essence. Respect, tolerance, knowledge, and love is at the core of most religions anyway (from what I’ve read so far)–it’s just the followers of said religion who have twisted it to suit their human agendas.

That’s what I think. Feel free to disagree–that’s your prerogative. Just don’t use it as an excuse to hatemonger. Or call out for my execution. (I’ll probably be reincarnated, anyway. So there. LOL)