Friday, December 31, 2010


I really can't complain about 2010. Granted, it had it's downs. But, it had a lot of ups as well.

My writing has seemed to dwindle this year, several of my works not seeing much, if any, change in the past twelve months. And my husband's health slipped earlier this year, to the point where we're sitting on the edge of needing a kidney transplant. But, the health is holding steady now - not getting better, but not needing that surgery quite yet. And the writing has been temporarily replaced with me going back to school for a degree in computer information technology.

I also got a new job this year, one which I love and enjoy. Again, no where near the vicinity of writing, but this is okay with me. Having multiple personalities, it is often necessary to have a wide array of interests just to keep everyone happy.

I've had many old friends come stumbling back into my life, friends which I've missed through the years, and love dearly. And above all, I have the greatest children I could ever ask for. Yes, they drive me nuts, but they're all good kids with their own strengths - strengths which are becoming more evident as they get older. I've seen another child start high school this year, and one start junior high. One has been researching colleges.

I've had my bouts of slipping into that dark place, of remembering those I've lost. And have had friends who've stumbled and are now lost to us. Not a day has gone by this year that I haven't thought about my brothers, Brandon and Matthew, two lovely, loving boys who will live in my heart forever, and who I know are watching over me and the rest of my siblings. But through the strength and love of family and friends, the tears don't fall quite as often.

So, to all I hold dear, Happy New Year. Thank you for helping me through another year and I hope you all have a wonderful 2011.

I Suck...

Yes, as of late, my writing has taken a downhill spiral. I used to be able to write poems and stories which, although I always thought sucked, others enjoyed. And I always could at least say they had a bit of a flow to them. The words would spring from my fingertips quickly and easily; my brain always moving just a hair quicker than I was able to write or type.

But now? Now I get it started, and it's flowing for a few lines, and then it happens. I can't think of the right word or worry the flow isn't happening. I'm searching for soemthing specific instead of just letting myself feel it. And it comes out sounding forced, lacking any special qualities.

Maybe it's because I'm starting out knowing what I want and trying too desperately to get that result. Maybe it's because my talent is dwindling. Maybe it's because I never had any talent and am just now starting to realize it.

Maybe I'm just out of practice and I need to write more and torment people more. Yes, that could be it. Ok so there is a minor flaw to that - I don't have any people who read this. But, no matter. I have voices in my head which will be thrilled (or not) to be tormented. Yes, yes. Torment is such fun.

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Make Love to a Memory

Woke up the other day, crying out your name
And now here you are, and I’m feeling just the same
As I did so many years ago, and every night since then
You were just a memory, now you’re touching me again

And it still feels right, even though I know it’s wrong
And it still feels so good, like it has felt all along

But I don’t want make love
to a memory anymore
I don’t want to hold on
To a ghost of what came before
I don’t want to hurt that way
When you walked out the door
I don’t want to make love
To your memory anymore

Let’s make a new memory
A new dream for me tonight
Please don’t pull away
From a love that feels right
I don’t want to be alone
As I’ve been since you walked out the door
And I don’t want to make love
To your memory anymore.

Where did it all go bad, that all I have is a memory
Why did we fall apart, when it had been you and me
Should I have let you go, should you have let me run
Where did it go wrong, when love had just begun

Can we rebuild our love, can we pick up the pieces
Can we try again, can we make more memories

Cuz I don’t want make love
to a memory anymore
I don’t want to hold on
To a ghost of what came before
I don’t want to hurt that way
When you walked out the door
I don’t want to make love
To your memory anymore

Let’s make a new memory
A new dream for me tonight
Please don’t pull away
From a love that feels right
I don’t want to be alone
As I’ve been since you walked out the door
And I don’t want to make love
To your memory anymore.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

A Bad Remake

The actors are all the same. Older, but the same. The setting, a bit different, but unimportant.

The characters:
Jimmy, the ever there (but most likely wishing he wasn't there) friend
Galen, the unrequited love. Or, more accurately, the one who can never be
Grant, the stable one. The no-strings-attached, turned wtf?
Carl, the one not written in, but suddenly there as he always was
Tommy, the reluctant friend. A great guy, but intelligently always staying out of the mainstream issues.
Mara, the multi-personality dimwitted dumbass

It always seemed it was these people. They were there in the beginning, in one way or another. No matter how much Mara tried to ignore what was there, it would never leave. She would always find herself torn between different loves and desires. And now, as life continues for her, she with her consistent bouncing between grant and galen and river (another party of this novel), another comes into play. And another. This story is quickly becoming out of control. Quickly becoming a thing of the past. Something she ran away from, but seems to have run directly into.

This all said, "Whispers in the Hall" will be done soon for all to read who really want to...

Lessons learned in 2010

While everyone else sits around making New Year's resolutions which will be broken before January 1st is over, I like to look back on the year and what I've learned. And so here are just a few lessons I have learned in 2010.

1) Drinking and emailing people is just bad. If you're lucky, the receiver of the email won't be able to read the bad typing. But, as is usually the case, they will be able to read and understand it...and you'll be really wishing you could hit an undo button.

2) Sometimes, the first step in forgiving someone, is forgiving yourself.

3) Forgiveness actually can be a great feeling, and can lead to good friendships (again).

4) Often times, the person you trust most will be the person to let you down. And the person you least expect to treat you like dirt, will be the one to do so.

5) True friendships remain true and strong no matter how many years pass by.

6) It IS possible to stay drunk for 4 days straight. This, however, is strongly NOT recommended.

7) Teenagers are completely stupid...just as stupid as we were at that age.

8) There is absolutely nothing wrong with having voices in your head. And if they ever tell you otherwise, kick 'em out.

9) Remember when your parents said "I hope when you have a kid, that she is JUST LIKE YOU!"? Yeah, it will happen. And you'll find yourself wishing the exact same thing on your children.

10) Having to call the ambulance twice within one weekend will drive you to the brink of insanity. However, you do find out exactly how strong you are when you're at your weakest.

11) Life still sucks. But, maybe not as much as I once believed.

12) Vincent from Beauty and the Beast is still a turn on. As are vampires. There's something about darkness that is very compelling.

And the most important thing I've learned this year...

13) I truly am blessed. I have a great family, including a husband of 17 years, children who drive me nuts but are my life, and the best friends a person could ever ask for, and a wonderful fulfilling job, two sisters who mean the world to me, my unofficial family who is still in my life, and so much more.

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Let's fight fate today

Ok, this is definitely not my best. It started out so good, but then I got distracted. But, here it is anyway...

Let's Fight Fate Today

I wrote your name on my wall
You were the one in my dream
always extreme,
you made me fall

I wrote your name in the sand
It was always meant to be
you and me,
hand in hand

But that's not the cards we were dealt
it doesn't matter what we felt
Fate never wanted us to be
the way we knew we should be

But please let's fight fate today
Please don't let it win
Our destiny should be our own
ohh I don't wanna be alone

Ohhh please, let's fight fate today

I cried your name into the night
You've always been the one i need
don't make me plead,
be mine tonight

But that's not the cards we were dealt
it doesn't matter what we felt
Fate never wanted us to be
the way we knew we should be

But please let's fight fate today
Please don't let it win
Our destiny should be our own
ohh I don't wanna be alone

Ohhh please, let's fight fate today

Friday, December 24, 2010

What is Our Purpose:

What is Our Purpose: (reposting as I seem to have deleted the original)

First, allow me to begin by giving you all a short history lesson. Millions of years ago there was a big ball of essence, one all powerful soul. Consider something along the lines of the Big Bang theory, as it would pertain to this ball of energy. It was split into hundreds of thousands of families. Through the years each of these families split, and these newly split souls split again, this time just once, into twins. Just as generations of families inherit similar characteristics, so did these souls that belong within families. They share similar thoughts and desires, likes and dislikes, dreams and fears.

These families make up soul mates. Every soul has a few or perhaps several soul mates - people that they know they belong with. These don’t have to be lovers, although they usually are because they share a similar passion. Also, each soul has a twin soul. This twin soul again can be anyone, not necessarily a lover. It’s the person whose thoughts you can sense or read, almost as if there is some form of telepathy between you both. It’s the person who, no matter the miles between you, can sense when you’re in pain, or when you’re happy. Neither of you are truly happy unless the other is.

Now consider this - if neither soul is happy without their twin, and no soul is complete without it’s family, then it stands to reason that our purpose in life is to find these other souls. To complete oneself and one’s family. We all wander the earth through time, seeking out that completion, that oneness that we all deserve. We may not always like our soul family, may not get along. This is true in any family. But there is always a sense of belonging or loyalty to these families. We know that we must continue to search, to unite each twin, each family, and eventually be reunited into one complete essence. Of course, for a million years this has not happened yet - we have not been able to finish our task due to the short life-span of humans. The soul lives forever, constantly seeking, yet the body dies.

Perhaps these souls enter another human when their original host dies. Most likely, that host wasn’t even the original host. But through this changing of bodies, comes a change of location. Perhaps one soul has found its twin in Canada somewhere, but the twin’s host body dies. That soul is then put into someone in Ireland. Eventually these two souls will find each other again, but it probably won’t be until they’ve both been through several hosts. In other words, our lives are a constant, seemingly never-ending search for completion. It’s part of a continuous battle that has existed for thousands of centuries.

Of course, this is just one odd theory, but it sounded good when it came into my thoughts. It could just as easily be possible that we’re simply pawns in a game of chess being played by gods or demons.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

The Best and Worst Dedication Songs

How many of you have had a song dedicated to you? Or have dedicated a song to their significant other? I think it's fairly safe to say we all have at one point or another.

Now then, for those over the age of 35 - how many of you have had a Chicago song dedicated to you?

I only ask this because that was one group I remember being a common dedication, particularly "You're the Inspiration." Boring. I am sorry for everyone I've offended with this, but truly, this song is a boring dedication. It's cliche. It's been done before. Hundreds of thousands of young girls swooned when this song came on the radio because their boyfriend had dedicated the song to her. And it isn't just this song or this group. Every generation has its share of cliche dedication songs. And quite honestly, the guys who dedicate these songs have no imagination whatsoever. In fact, I'd say it really is no different than the guys in the 80's and 90's (and before and after) - dedicate sappy swoon-worthy love song, get in girl's pants.

But honestly, if girls are going to swoon over an over-dedicated song, they're stupid. I know. I've been stupid.

So what are the best dedication songs? Easy - songs that remind you of him/her. Did you dance to a particular song on a night you'll always remember? Is the lyrics so completely him/her? For example, have you caught your girlfriend singing and dancing in the kitchen, thinking no one is watching? Dedicate Joe Nichols' song "Gimme that Girl" to her. Or maybe she likes taking long baths and dancing in the rain, and cries during old movies. Dedicate John Michael Montgomery "I love the Way You Love Me."

Country obviously isn't the only music for dedications. I've just simply been in a country mood lately, and therefore those are at the tip of my fingers more-so than anything else.

Maybe there's a song you used to jokingly sing to someone else (i.e. "You're Every Woman in the World" sang by girlfriend to boyfriend...). This is a good memory, though silly and stupid. But it's a song you'll remember forever because of the memory attached to it.

Basically, the moral of this long rambling - Don't be boring. If you're going to dedicate a song, make it mean something. Don't dedicate one of those stupid you're everything to're beautiful...I love you just the way you are...blah blah blah songs.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

move on...

The past rarely ever turns out how we thought it would. No matter where we are now, no matter how happy or unhappy we are, no matter what dreams we've found or haven't found...the past is never what we wanted at that time.

In high school, we were either the unpopular seeking popularity, or we were the popular one wishing we didn't have to do some of the stupid things we did. In both high school and college, we were always chasing after that one person we never could get. Or, if we did get lucky enough to get, it didn't turn out how we wanted it.

We always felt we could be more, love more, dream more. But it never happened. Or if it did, it was never the way it should have been.

So, years down the road, when faced with those memories again - when smacked across the face with the dreams of a child - we find ourselves slipping into the same state of mind. We find ourselves just as helpless and hopeless as we were many years before. Certain people or situations trigger this. And the more people or situations that remind us of this time, the more we slip back in time, so much so we cannot control the out of control emotions raging through us.

We could just erase these people and situations. This would solve the problem. Yet, we find ourselves unable to take that step. Our finger rests on the delete button, knowing we'd be deleting all the problems and dark thoughts. Yet we cannot do it. We cannot erase those negative times. We survive off those negative thoughts. They are what made us who we are, and continue to make us who you see before us today.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Better Left in the Past

Saw you again today
and suddenly I was thrown
back in time, to a time
So many years ago

When love was life
And dreams came true
And I was so in love with you

When "I need you"
Was my reality
And you only had eyes for me

Some things are better left in the past
like that special love that was meant to always last
Some things are better left buried deep
Like all those little promises we didn't keep

Heard your voice again
And suddenly I was thrown
Back in time, to a time
So many years ago

Kissing in the rain
And holding tight
Loving each other through the night

Dancing so close
Loving so true
And I was so in love with you

And some things are better left in the past
like that special love that was meant to always last
Some things are better left buried deep
Like all those little promises we didn't keep

Some things are better left in a dream
Like the memories of you
Some things are better left alone
Like the memories of us
Some things are better left buried
Like the memory of you
Some things are better left in the past
I wish your memory had stayed in the past
Why couldn't you stay in the past...

Some things are better left in the past
Like that special love that was meant to always last
Some things are better left buried deep
Like all those little promises we didn't keep

Friday, November 26, 2010

Identity Crisis Fixed!

After having all my characters suffering an identity crisis the past several months, I think I have finally got them figured out. Grant - one of the main characters in "Whispers in the Hall" - and I sat down for a brief conversation the other day. In my meeting with him, I figured out a few very important things about him, and his duplicate.

See Grant, as well as every other character within Whispers, has a duplicate. They were supposed to be loosely based on these duplicates, but then I came to realize that the duplicates were falling short of being even remotely close to how the characters were, and it was turning out to be a bit of a crisis. I couldn't write great characters if the duplicates weren't nearly as wonderful.

But Grant helped me realize something. The duplicates whom I was basing my characters on, were characters in and of themselves. They never were how I created them - not in the real world. They were always figments of my imagination. Therefore, as figments of my imagination, they can be rewritten to match the characters.

Identity crisis solved. Just rewrite the characters - real and fictional.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

In memory of...

Today marks the 10th anniversary of my brother's death. Well, one of my brothers. Although, I more often think of Thanksgiving Day as the anniversary. That was when he took his life - early Thanksgiving morning, the year 2000. I was taking care of my 4 month old twins when I got the call.

Just over a year ago, a second brother took his own life, and in much the same way. I was sitting at work when I got the news on that one.

I remember those days so clearly, so painfully. No matter how much time has passed, it's a pain that doesn't lessen. True, some days can go by without me crying. But not a day goes by that they don't cross my mind.

How could two young men take their own lives? And how could the one have done this on Thanksgiving, no less? Of course, in my mind it's his way of smacking people across the face and letting them know they gave him little to be thankful for. Not exactly nice of me to think. But, it's hard to think nice when I know where these boys came from. It truly is amazing to me that the rest of us aren't more messed up than we are.

But anyway, I am rambling now and shall stop. Brandon, I can't believe ten years have passed. I miss you every day. And Matthew, I miss you just as much. You were my little boy. Take care of each other, and watch over your sisters and other brother. You are two very special young men, and I am grateful for every moment I had you in my life. I love you.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Songs and Memories pt 2

As I was sitting here playing a goofy game on Facebook and listening to music on Youtube, I thought of a few more songs and the memories associated with them. So, I decided to torment my two readers with these songs as well...

"Love in the Future" brings me back to freshman year in high school. That spring the school started an environmental organization. I spend the spring and most of the summer digging through garbage for recyclables, cleaning up along highways, and going to early Saturday morning meetings. And, there was even a fun party at the leader's home. Of course, he was just looking for college credit. Once he got it, he abandoned the group and broke my heart.

"Once Bitten Twice Shy" is another freshman year memory. I was in speech and debate (well, just debate) and so one of our trips was to Watertown, SD. We took an old school bus down, and cranked that song up the whole way there, and during the party we had that night in the Motel. That was a great trip.

"Bat Out of Hell" - this is a song that I have loved since I was a little child. But when I hear it, the one memory that sticks out the most is my Sophomore year of high school. Two friends of mine and I used to walk the halls with this song blaring, thinking we were all tough and cool. But the day I remember most was the day these two friends of mine made my guidance counselor get down on his knees and apologize to me. We had this song playing at the time.

But, I shall stop for now,. Don't worry though, I'm sure a part 3 will be soon to come.

Songs and Memories

A few moments ago I was reminded of how songs can bring back a memory, or a series of memories, or simply bring a person back in time. Some say smells will do this more than anything else. For me it has always been music. Nearly every momentous occasion in my life has a song behind it. Ok, so maybe not all these occasions are momentous, and not all momentous ones have a song, but many do.

The song "Jukebox Hero" reminds me of being a preteen/teen, spending Friday night family night (up until Dr. Who came on) dancing with my siblings. For all the hell we went through, dancing and having fun with them is a memory I will always cherish.

"Wonderful Tonight" brings back a memory just a few years ago. It's the first song my husband and I really ever danced to at an actual dance. It was at a street dance.

"Walking on Broken Glass" and "Bed of Roses" both bring me back to the week I spent in the psych ward. Yes, I was in the psych ward. But anyway, Y94 played these two songs repeatedly throughout the day, and as we psychos had nothing better to do than listen to the radio, these songs became fairly special to us.

"You're my Inspiration" reminds me of someone who was very special in my life many years ago. He was my one weakness, my greatest strength - the one I lived for and wanted to die for. (Yes, this was back in the psycho days...) Seriously, he was and is very important to me.

"Hard Habit to Break" was, ironically, the song that was playing when I walked out of someone else's life. I didn't realize until after I walked away, how much I left behind.

These are just a few songs that hold a great deal of importance to me. What songs bring you back to another time and place? What songs bring tears or smiles to your face because of the memories they bring with?

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Why Now?

This afternoon, while in a NyQuil induced state, I had a dream that left me a bit confused and curious. In it, someone I knew many years ago was telling me that he'd really like to know why I hate him. I tried interrupting him, cutting him off and reminding him, and I almost did but then I got awakened, with a tear streaming down my cheek.

This someone was an old boyfriend. He was incredibly good looking, and very passionate. I remember kissing in the rain (or was it in the snow?), and making out to an old Chicago song. But, it was during a, well, odd time in my life. I'm not sure I can say honestly that I loved him. Nor can I say with all honesty that I didn't love him. I was sleeping with his best friend and in love with his roommate. I do know that much.

But as I was saying, this old flame and I didn't date for long. Shortly after we started dating, I left home. And somehow through it all, he became abusive. Maybe it was just a fluke thing (twice), but I wasn't going to take my changes. I had been beaten and abused since I was a little girl, and I wanted nothing to do with it now. When he twisted my arm behind my back, I let it go. When he pushed me into a wall, I walked away. Or rather, ran and hid. I only saw him twice after that if I remember correctly. And that was 18 years ago.

So why now, after 18 years, does he appear in my dreams, with no recollection of what had transpired between us? Why now do I shed a tear over a time best forgotten? Why now does the memory haunt me?

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

When sending telepathic messages, be specific!

All evening I've had this feeling that I am supposed to be listening to a specific song. The problem is, I don't know what song it is. I don't fully know anything about the song. It's like that feeling you get when you wake up in the middle of a dream, and you're trying to reach out and hang onto the memory of it but it is in a fog. You recall the general emotion of the dream, somewhat. And maybe certain features of the dream, to a degree. But you can't quite touch it. You remember the colors, maybe. And the scent, almost. But it's just not quite there.

That's how it is with this song. It's country. I think. Or something like that. And it's a man's voice. Perhaps. A soothing voice, I'm quite certain. And it's a love song. I believe. Maybe a love at first sight? Not slow, but possibly sad. Not fast either, but can be danced to. The words are there, at the tip of my tongue, and yet I cannot recall a single syllable.

It's driving me insane. I have been spending hours listening to music, trying to grasp a clue as to what song I am supposed to be listening to. But it's just out of reach. I'll hear a song and know that the one I want is similar in some way, but that's as far as I can get.

So, to whomever sent me this telepathic message to listen to this song, be more specific!

Friday, October 29, 2010

Kill them All

Have you ever noticed that if you're angry with one or two of the opposite gender, suddenly the whole world would be better off if that entire gender would be overcome by some genetic mishap that made them slowly and painfully bleed to death?

I'm having one of those days. Kill them all, I say.

Now what on earth could be so horrible that I would want the entire adult male population dead? Nothing in particular. Or perhaps everything. I just find the species incredibly irritating and stupid.

Let me pose two particular scenarios.

Say you have someone of the opposite (irritating) gender who claims you're a friend. Yet you find out they are going through something rather serious, and of course you do not find this out from the friend. Would you be just a little hurt? Angry? Want to rip their finger nails off? Or maybe it's just me?

How about you have a friend/acquaintance/questionable relationship of some odd sort with the opposite (irritating) gender, and they go months without speaking to you. Note, these months come after they tell you not to fuck something up and basically call you melodramatic. Then out of the blue they contact you and wonder why you haven't told them how great they are and how much you appreciate everything they did for you. Would you be a little miffed? stunned? Want to pull their leg hairs out one at a time with a tweezers? Or maybe this is just me also?

Whether it's just me or not, I still say just kill them all!

Saturday, October 2, 2010

I Tried

I tried writing in Whispers again tonight. It ended up being one of those good scenes. Well, until Grant left Mara frustrated and alone. But anyway, I'm finding it more and more difficult to write in this story. I think I made it too close for comfort. Granted, the characters are nothing like who they were based on. At least, not much anymore. Except for maybe "Doctor C". He's not too fully developed yet, and so is still much like whom he was based on.

But I digress. As I was saying, it is getting increasingly difficult to write Whispers. I am too close to the characters. Granted, what little has been written is good (in my opinion...and I rarely say my stuff is good which probably means it sucks). But it is emotionally draining to write it. THis is new territory for me. I have never had writing emotionally drain me. It is usually energizing and healing.

Maybe it is healing me. And I just don't want to be healed. Hmmm, that is an interesting concept. I think I shall go explore that a bit more.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

No Strings Attached

We've all heard the claim before - "No strings attached." It's often used when offering to do a favor for someone. "I'll give you the $50 you need - no strings attached".

No strings attached, quite simply, means to not expect anything in return. All there is is what I'm offering - nothing more, nothing less. But there are always expectations, even if we try not to have them. If I give you $50, I, unfortunately, expect you to return the favor if I ever should end up in a similar predicament. I may not believe it at the moment I give you the money. But when the time comes that I need the money, my mind upon your answer of "no" will be "well I bailed you out. One would think you'd have the decency to do the same."

"No strings attached" relationships are the same. These are relationships which are generally purely physical relationships. The "no strings" in this case means no emotional attachment. We sleep with each other when we're both in the mood, and go about our lives when we're not. We date and love who we wish, and aren't expected to be there when the other wants only someone to hold them.

This is a bit different than "friends with benefits." The "friends" part of that relationship already signifies there will be some sort of strings or expectations. "No strings attached" claims to leave no room for expectations.

And yet, this relationship is perhaps the most impossible of all. At least, for any decent length of time. A week or two may be achievable, but eventually, one will develop feelings. And these feelings - these emotional attachments - can show themselves in a variety of ways. Perhaps one will become jealous of the other partner's relationships. Or there will be a broken heart, or the expectation that one will be there during the painful times. One will want to share their feelings with the other.

No matter what the case, "no strings attached" - or a purely physical relationship - creates more problems than it is typically worth.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Dear Me at 17

I have always loved the Brad Paisley song, "Letter to Me." And I have often thought it would be a good topic to write about. But as I sit here, I find it much more difficult than I would have anticipated. Not because I don't know what to say, but because there is just so much to say. Seventeen and eighteen were such a big years for me. By the time my seventeenth birthday came about, I was already nearly two months into my first year of college. And to try to prepare that "me" to what was soon to come? Especially what was to come that next year?

But, I have promised this letter and so here it is...

Dear me at 17...

When you finally get the courage - and trust me, you soon will - to escape the fear and pain you've lived with for ten years, remember those still living in that same home. Do whatever you can to remain close to them. To make sure they know you love them.

Every piece of writing that escapes from your fingers, those hidden between the mattresses, and in your dresser drawers, and jewelry box - keep them safe. They may seem like pathetic whining right now, but they are the memories who make you who I am today.

Stop trying so hard to make someone love you and trust what you want. Trust what you know deep inside. He whose name you write in the sand will be in your heart forever. It doesn't turn out how you want, and although you may try again and again to force it to be that, accept that it is what you need.

No strings attached doesn't exist - but allow yourself to forget that for one special person. Although in the future he doesn't even remember you, you learn more than you can ever realize.

And most of all, and this is a lesson you have yet to follow although you already know it, stop being scared of love. You try so hard (and succeed most of the time) to chase people away because you're afraid. You don't want to be what you grew up with. Stop running. Allow the butterflies to land upon your shoulder.

And one last thing before I end this - remember Halloween. That one day will change your life in ways yet to be understood.

I could come up with more, but this will have to do for now. Enjoy 17 because 18 comes hard and fast.


Sunday, September 19, 2010

Beauty & the Beast

Beauty and the Beast the series - a show that aired in the last 80's and only lasted a few seasons - is perhaps the best love story ever created. But the producers/writers truly screwed up, which is the prime reason the show only made it through half the third season before being canceled.

The basic theme behind the series was nicely summed up in the intro, which was recited at the beginning of each episode. But even simpler was one line from this intro: "and although we cannot be together, we will never, ever be apart."

And so at the beginning of the third season, Catherine (the "Beauty" in the story) gives birth to Vincent's (the "Beast") baby and then dies.

Is it any wonder the show quickly died?

It really is too bad. It was a good show - especially the second series. The love between the two main characters was strong and true, and existed without a physical side. There couldn't be a physical side. Well, obviously there could be...but that's what killed it all. Yes, they struggled with not being able to be together, but they still held tight to what they could have. And they accepted it. And they grew stronger and closer.

Vincent: This is where the wealthy and the powerful rule. It is her world. A world apart from mine. Her name is Catherine. From the moment I saw her, she captured my heart with her beauty, her warmth, and her courage. I knew then, as I know now, she would change my life . . . forever.

Catherine: He comes from a secret place, far below the city streets, hiding his face from strangers, safe from hate and harm. He brought me there to save my life . . . and now, wherever I go, he is with me, in spirit. For we have a bond stronger than friendship or love. And although we cannot be together, we will never, ever be apart

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Why am I Psycho?

You want to know why I'm psychotic? Why I've never been like "normal girls"? Where to begin...

Let's start at the beginning. It's usually the best place to start. I was 2 when my mother walked away. I didn't even remember her. If you ask my father, she was an alcoholic who wasn't ready for children. If you ask my mother, he came at her with a gun and she left because she feared for her life. If you ask me, it doesn't really matter why she left. She set the rest of the story into action.

Being a single father, naturally my father needed a baby sitter. Thus enters Randy into the picture. Older (I was only 4 or 5, so older could be anywhere between 20 and 40....I think he was around the same age as my father). I remember having to touch him. Having him touch me. I have spent the last 30 years blocking the memory...I'm not about to bring it back...

But, no matter. I was soon to learn that not only was my father single, he was also desperate. He wanted that he NEEDED love him. So much so that he eventually found a woman who beat me and my sister regularly and so long as she loved him, he let her do as she will.

He did try to stop her. Once. I remember her saying "fine...she's your take care of it..." And so he did. By beating me within an inch of my life. I remember him kicking me, bruising me, my nose and lip bleeding, my body aching.

This became a constant occurrence. Until, several years later, 18 yet in my last year of high school I finally left for good.

Yeah, for good.

So much for "for good".

Since leaving, 2 brothers have committed suicide, one is in jail for drugs/domestic violent. 1 sister finally managed to make a life for herself with her husband and children...the other has done the same, but with many more scars than she should have to deal with.

Sometimes, Brandon and Matthew, I think you two were smarter than the rest of us. Sometimes I envy you both. Other times, I wish you'd asked me for help. I would have been there. No questions asked.

To the two responsible for Brandon and Matthew taking their own lives....the two responsible for Ray being in jail...those responsible for us 3 girls struggling every day with the fates of the boys and the actions in our pasts...I have tried to forgive. I've tried to understand. I've tried to forget. And all I can pray, God help me, is that some day Karma comes back and kicks you in the mother-fucking ass. You're not worth my forgiveness or love or mercy. I hope your death is slow and painful and leaves no other victims as you have both already left enough.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Emotionally Slapped in the Face

So many times you find that one - that person you can trust without question or doubt. And every time, you get slapped in the face, emotionally if not physically. And believe me, I'd take the physical any day of the week. Physical bruises heal. The emotional bruises? They lighten in time. But they never heal. No matter what anyone tells you, they never heal.

There's the "father" - whether biological or not. This is the man you believe will love you unconditionally. The one who will always be there for you. The one who will, unconditionally, turn his back on you. Don't buy into the appearance of love and trust and protection. It is all a lie.

There's the "twin soul" - the one person who, no matter the time or distance separating you, will always love you and need you and want you. He, too, is a lie. He loves and wants and needs you - provided you please him in every way he desires. Otherwise, he'll quite simply move on.

There's your "true love" - similar to a twin soul, the one who will always love you. Of course, he will only true love you if you bend to his every will and demand.

No matter the man or the love, he will fail you. But none so great as the father. The father isn't supposed to fail you. The others, it isn't so unexpected. But the one you choose as the father? That one hurts the most. His betrayal makes you give up completely. His betrayal makes you turn all his lessons into something selfish and wrong. And yet perhaps oh so right. Can an emotional slap in the face be what is truly needed? Can it be what makes us strong?

Little Trinkets

Silly little playthings. Naughty silly little playthings. How they scurry away if there isn't a toy in the box for them. Pitter-patter away, like little ants, in every direction.

You think you deserve this? You truly believe you deserve my touch, my pretty little glances and smiles? You silly little thing. You are nothing more than a trinket. I say what game we play and what the rules are. I say. Not you. You silly little trinket.

You want to touch? You lie. You don't want to touch. You want to be touched. You want to be played with. And when one no longer plays, you hide, looking for someone else. You think this is the rules to the game. But no. I am the rules. I created them from the little voices. They tell me how to play and they don't like rule breakers.

I want to play a new game. I want to play the game where you get touched. With hot pokers and sharp instruments. I want to hear screams and see blood scurrying away from your form. Yes, yes. I want to play a new game with my little trinket. My silly little plaything.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

I have complete faith in you, but

...just don't screw this up.

I have complete faith in you, but just don't screw this up.

I have complete faith in you, but just don't screw this up?

Wow. I don't know about the rest of you, but this statement makes me just want to run out and give it my all. Yup, I will definitely bend over backwards to help you out. I'll drop everything for you. I'll skip sleep and play and anything else that doesn't revolve around you. I'll break my back and let go of my sanity.

And you can kiss my ass.

I have complete faith in you but???

You can't have a "but" in that statement. By adding that small little word, you have told more than you could ever imagine. You don't have faith in me. You don't believe in me. You don't trust me. You know I'm going to fuck it up. You know I can't do it right. So why the hell even try? Why? Why claim to have faith in me? Do you really think some lie is what I want to hear? Do you really think I'm so stupid that I'm going to believe that lie?

Or do you just not give a shit? I'm leaning more towards that. You just don't care. You don't care about anything other than yourself. So, thank you for that lesson. I'm done doing for you or anyone else. I'm doing it all for me.

I had complete faith in you. Thank you for teaching me not to.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Curious...(please comment...)

I've been sitting here, half asleep, playing mind-numbing games on Facebook, and it seems the games have done the opposite of numbing my brain. It has made me think of odd questions. If you have a comment or answer to any of these, please feel free to post here, or on Facebook, or by messaging me. I'm just very curious about what people think since I don't really feel I think the same as many most of the time.

First question: Say you got pregnant many years ago but never told the father. Would you tell him now? What if this pregnancy ended in a miscarriage? Or abortion? Or adoption? If you were the father, would you want to know? Would it make a difference what happened to the baby or whether or not you and the mother were in love?

Second question: What if you found the love of your life - the one who got away - 20 years after he/she got away. Would you still love him/her? Would you try to reconnect? What if he/she is married? What if you are?

Third question: What if there was a big secret you had kept from someone many years ago. This secret explained so much about yourself, and probably could have avoided a lot of pain had it been told, but at the time you'd been too afraid to speak. Ten years go by and the opportunity presents itself for you to speak up. Would you? Even if you knew it's too late and revealing the secret now wouldn't change anything? Does it even matter?

Fourth question: Say you have a friend who keeps coming up with really odd and off-the-wall questions. Would you assume she's asking them out of personal experience, or just simply out of curiosity? Would it really matter? Does just seeing the questions make you think "is this about me? Is there something I need to know? What's she keeping from me?!"

Fifth question: Will you answer at least one of these? Just to satisfy a friend's curiosity?

Sunday, August 22, 2010


I woke up this morning in the middle of a dream about my old hometown, Hallock, MN. I had been showing my own children some of my favorite places. I haven't been back to Hallock in such a long time. My family moved shortly after my dad remarried, and although we went back that way to go camping on my Great-Uncle's farm, I didn't get the same freedom I used to have to go visit friends, or go bike riding, or anything else.

Some of my memories are a little hazy as I was so young, but I do remember the school being so close to my house. I remember the sidewalk that went from my home, around the corner, to the front of the school property. It's where I learned to ride bike. The house on the corner I had to go around had a steps to make it from the sidewalk, up the small hill, to the home. And it had a railing for these steps. I had been so proud of myself. "Look Dad! I can ride!" And then I hit that railing.

I remember the swimming pool we used to go to all the time. I can't remember if it was Hallock, though I believe it was, but I seem to remember them dropping coins into the pool for the kids. I remember one particular summer, walking home from the pool, and trying to be a show-off by jump roping with my towel. I spent the next week or so in the kiddie pool with 8 stitches in my head.

I remember bike riding to get the mail. I remember the gazebo. I remember street dances and dances at the city hall. Halloween parties in the hall, with a dance upstairs and games like bobbing for apples downstairs.

I remember spending the night with friends, staying up half the night braiding each others' hair. I remember camping out in our backyard. I even remember very small bits of school, but don't have quite enough of the memories to describe them. I remember in the school playground though at recess - playing "Kiss and Kill" and "Wizard of Oz" (if I recall correctly, one of my friends was Dorothy and I was Toto).

But anyway, in my dream, I was taking my children to each of these places, which had since changed and moved and I got a little lost. It was an interesting dream though, and brought back a lot of memories I had forgotten.

Thursday, August 19, 2010


I hate this. I hate not knowing if I'm doing the right thing. I hate this gut feeling I have that I'm doing the wrong thing. I hate that I can't be in two places at once. I need to be at work. This is important. I know that. I understand that. And any other time, I wouldn't even consider arguing with this fact. I'd walk over hot coals just to get there. But now? It isn't right. I know everyone is rationalizing it that doing things this way is for the best for the family. But it doesn't feel right. And the closer it gets, the worse it feels. I'm scared. What if? What if this is the wrong choice. I don't understand why this feels so wrong. It's just a consultation I'll be missing, and yet I can't shake this darkness overcoming. I can't rid myself of this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I feel like I chose work over family, even though it wasn't really my decision. Maybe that's what's nagging at me. Hopefully that's all it is.

Monday, August 9, 2010

Little Bits of Data

To love. To dream. To feel the burn of memories long ago past burning within. The feel of a touch, the tingle it leaves on your flesh. You want so desperately to reach out and touch the memory, to feel it again, to sense that beautiful spark just out of your grasp.

Memories. Such small little fragments, little bits of data stored away in your mind, and yet so powerful. One little memory carries the weight of a lifetime of love and hopes and desire. One little memory can cause an ache inside no drug can cure.

How you crave to taste that which created those little bits of data. The desire screams from within you, so loud and deep and real. Just one little taste. The feel of lips pressed against each other, the spark that shoots through your veins when tongues flick against each other, ever so briefly, much too briefly. You want to feel it again. Just once, although you know once will never be enough.

Cravings. Oh such cravings we aren’t meant to speak of, or feel. Forbidden cravings burning within. Just one taste. One feel of the flesh against your lips, one feel of flesh breaking beneath your bite, the heat, the rush, as the warmth flows over your lips, your tongue.

To love. To dream. To pray to whatever god or demon can bring you this desire, can make it live again. To whatever can bring to life these memories and satisfy this craving.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

I need a new back

Yup, my back is fu**ed up yet again. This is nothing new. It's been a mess since I was 13 and fell off a swing. Yes, I said "fell off a swing"...quit laughing. I've also gotten a concussion from falling off a merry-go-round, and ripped the muscles in my shoulder (which, by the way, is also fu**ed up right now) from playing on a man-lift, and pulled the tendons connecting my ribs to my sternum from playing with my husband. I'd be a great a walking advertisement for some kick-ass pain killers.

And damn could I use those kick-ass pain killers right now. Usually, a shot or two of JD and 4 Ibuprophen do the trick. But, I have to try to wean myself off using JD as a pain killer. Works great, but honestly - the bar is too damn far away and I'm in too much pain. So, I'm trying the 4 Ibu's I took two hours ago, and now a shot of NyQuil. Let's see how this works. If it doesn't, the bar is still open for another 3 hours. I'm sure I can whine enough till someone helps me out. Maybe. I think people around here are getting immune to my whining.

Anyway, if anyone has a back/shoulder/body they'd be willing to donate/trade, I'll be forever grateful.

Would Rather Rip My Fingernails Off

School shopping today. Can you feel my excitement? I'm just so thrilled...the only thing more exciting would be if I could give myself paper-cuts all over and douse them in lemon juice.

Even if I had an endless budget, I'd still find jumping off a bridge head first onto a freeway more appealing. And the thought of bringing my over-ambitious sixteen year old daughter? Oh yes, I would find sawing through my own leg more exhilarating.

Ah, but I also get to bring my pre-teen-can't-shut-her-mouth-for-more-than-2-seconds daughter. Please let me rip all my finger nails off and rub salt into the wounds!

Anyone feel like taking my place? Please?

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Dream Interpreter Needed

For the past couple weeks, I have been completely drained by the time I get home from work. So, I have been taking a short nap each day upon returning home. Today was no different. At least, no different when it came to being drained and taking a nap. The nap, on the other hand, was a bit different.

I had a dream.

Normally, I don't recall my dreams. Or, I'll remember I had a dream, and may remember the overall emotion behind the dream. But rarely do I remember details. And when I do, it's because there was a meaning behind it. I am a firm believer in dreams having meaning. I just can't seem to grasp the meaning behind the one today.

I was on an island with several ghosts, and a large black lab (which was also a ghost, but didn't believe it). The lab was basically keeping me hostage in this large building (which had a gorgeous garden). The garden was indoors, screened in, with a beautiful view of a waterfall. There was a large fountain in the garden, with a stone bench surrounding it. There was also a cross.

The lab lived in this garden, snarling and doing what he could to keep people out. But he kept toying with me. The only thing I remember clearly is he stole my jacket and hung it on the cross, which in turn burned the fabric where it came in direct contact.

Finally I had enough. I went in to talk to the dog. Sitting on the stone bench, I told the lab about the other ghosts who would love to play with him, but that if I was all he would let close, I would stay there with him, although I did not belong. He started speaking to me, admitting I didn't belong. I hugged him and as I did, he turned into a man. Oddly, I didn't recognize the man. At all. Oh, and he kissed me. Which was really weird because that's when I realized he was no longer a dog.

So yeah, any dream interpreters want to take a stab at this one?

Saturday, July 17, 2010


I don't think you'll ever truly understand
the pain that lurks beneath the sand
Beneath this darkened heart of mine

I don't think you'll ever truly comprehend
the memories time can never mend
They lurk here in this blackened soul of mine

And I don't think you'll ever truly know
I don't think you want to truly know
I wish you could never truly know


Oh, I don't think you'll ever understand
I don't think you want to understand
I wish you would never understand


I don't think you'll ever know the truth
the pain etched within me in my youth
the pain that darkened this heart of mine

I don't think you'll ever know the fears
the frightening visions that stopped my tears
The visions that blackened this soul of mine

And I don't think you'll ever truly know
I don't think you want to truly know
I wish you could never truly know


Oh, I don't think you'll ever understand
I don't think you want to understand
I wish you would never understand


I don't want you to understand
I don't want you to understand
I can't have you ever understand


Friday, July 16, 2010

the lines grow

It's happening again. The lines between voices growing thicker, more noticeable; the voices less controllable. I am losing touch with myself, or rather myselves. Small memories, such as what I just did less than five minutes ago is hazy, as if it were a dream. Simple tasks, such as eating, seem such distant memories though they just occurred. This isn't normal, or right. I am frightened. I know I am slipping. I can feel it. The ground is crumbling at my feet, the sky falling down around me, and I can do nothing but whisper into the storm that doesn't truly exist.

What is real? I cannot tell anymore. Did I speak to you? Did I have a cup of coffee? Who am I again? My name isn't mine. It is that of a distant memory long forgotten, yet still remembered. Why? Where have I been. Why do I recall things I have never experienced, and experienced things I can no longer recall?

I am reaching for you. But my fingers cannot reach reality well enough to grab a hold of you. I think I'm almost there and your image wavers, distorted by my touch like a reflection within the water. Why can I not hold you? Why can I not hold the love that slithers up my spine?

Tiny little feet, tap dancing in my mind. Thousands of little feet and hands and voices, chanting and clapping and dancing as I slowly lose control, wanting only to understand, to reach you, to know.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

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Friday, July 9, 2010

I just don't know anymore...

Well, I started classes this week. The whole purpose of going back to school is to get a degree which will hopefully a) help me make a home for myself in the company I want to work for and b) help make people realize that I know more than they want to admit. Or, if these fail, help me land a better job elsewhere. However, now I'm really starting to question this decision. My experience so far with this had been great - up until the paperwork was signed for the financial part of it. Now, it appears no one works in the main office.

I do enjoy the classes, and am actually learning stuff in one of my three classes. The others - one I wanted to get out of since I teach the information at my own workplace. The other is a class everyone has to take, which is a good class, but so far nothing I don't already know. And the third class, I am actually learning stuff. But I'm uncertain really how useful such knowledge will be. It's teaching us all about Windows Vista. No one uses Vista. Vista sucks. I don't even have it on any of my computers. I have two running XP and two running Windows 7. All the work computers - XP. We'd been waiting to upgrade until 7 came out, due to the instability of Vista.

So why am I wasting my money on this? Am I doing the right thing? I'm just not sure anymore. I just hope this isn't for nothing.

Thursday, July 8, 2010


I was just sitting here, enjoying a nice evening. It was a particularly typical Thursday night. And then someone asked me a question. It sounded like a question of concern. Maybe. What was this person's reason for asking such a question? What was he really asking? And why? What is in it for him should it be a simple question of concern, although I was quite certain it held some secret message.

And that's when it hit me. I have such serious trust issues, I don't believe I'm even capable of any minuscule amount of trust in another human being. Don't misunderstand me. It's not like my trust issue is a new phenomena - or even that the realization is new. I have always been aware the problem lay hiding within. But the depth of the issue was quite the smack in the face.

I do tend to write about trust a lot. Especially as of late. Some of you may understand the recent fixation on the subject, and perhaps it is this fixation which has caused the sudden defenses. That must be it. I wouldn't be so untouchable as to over-react to a simple question, even if that question were laced with some hidden meaning.

Ah, but this isn't good at all. Next comes the walls, and pushing, the so many additional defenses. I do believe it is time to retreat into my world of words, and erase myself from humanity. I must hide from those I can and will hurt, and not allow them to feel for me, as I am incapable of feeling. Yes, it is time to curl up in a ball in the corner of my sanctuary, where no one, including myself, can hurt me.

You're the One

I thought this was all innocent
Just playing those bed games
But it’s starting to be clear
You aren't where this all aims

He breaks that trust just a bit
Then just a little bit more
And I go running over to you
Willing to be your whore

The angrier I get with him
The more I wanna be with you
The more I want to make him hurt
The more I wanna hurt you too

But you're not the one I love
You’re just the one I need
You are not the one I want
But you're the one who's gonna bleed

He turns his back once again
This is nothing new to me
But I’m gonna make him notice
Oh yes I’m gonna make him see

The angrier I get with him
The more I wanna be with you
The more I want to make him hurt
The more I wanna hurt you too

But you're not the one I love
You’re just the one I need
You are not the one I want
But you're the one who's gonna bleed

Do you still want me
Knowing you're not the one I desire
Do you still wanna play
Knowing you didn't start this fire

cuz the angrier I get with him
The more I wanna be with you
The more I want to make him hurt
The more I’m gonna hurt you too

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Where Does it Come From?

It was recently asked of me "Mind if I ask exactly where you get your words and thoughts from? I know that may be a tough question, but the way I see it, you're as close to Emily Dickinson as the world is gonna get. And since we can't ask her anything . . .You're so beautifully dark. It's enlightening"

First and foremost, I must say this has got to be the nicest, best, sweetest, most wow-ing compliment I have ever received and I thank you completely for it, even if I do disagree.

But now to answer the question...

It isn't a question with a simple answer. In fact, I'm not certain at all of the answer. The darkness, the emptiness, the fears...they are all a part of me. They all have a home in the darkened halls of my mind. How did they get there? I do not know.

I have seen a lot in my life. Not as much as some, but more than I would wish on anyone, even those I most hate. I was abused in every way as a child; had abusive boyfriends; was raped. I have lost those I love and loved those I lost. I have learned that trust is rarer than love and more painful than death. I have learned so much, and the lesson most learned was never trust and never cry.

Perhaps it is these lessons which caused the dark rooms in my mind to be built. Cobwebs now cover the doorway, trapping anyone who tries to get too close. The blood of the innocent lays at my feet, staining the hardwood floors. It won't wash out you know. It'll never wash out.

How can wash away anything that has been pounded and beaten into being? How can you clean it, make it pure again? How can you turn it into something others would want to be around? You can't. It's tarnished. Ugly. Forever tainted.

But is this where the words come from? Is this from where all the pain spills over onto the paper? Or has it always been there? Was I perhaps born dark - possessed by the shadows that draw me in and leak out onto the canvas? Perhaps the words have simply always been there, and the stains of my past are simply that - stains. Perhaps I am the stain. A blemish on society, on this page, within these walls.

I am beginning to realize I cannot answer the question brought to me. I have tried, but I do not know the answer. My words, my thoughts, they just...are.

Monday, July 5, 2010


Silence. Lonely silence resides within these halls. Quiet whispers of tears echoing against the walls, a river flowing with endless fears. No hope. No dreams. Pain screeching from every crack.

Death. Cold death can be found within these halls. Quiet whispers of nothingness echoing against the walls, a trail of blood and mortality. No heartbeat, no light. Trust squelched beneath the hands of the betrayer.

Fear. Gifted fear resides within these halls. Quiet whispers of fears echoing against the walls, tears whimpered into the night flowing, trembling. No love. No faith. Anguish peering from the darkness.


I'm a Nerd

I'm so excited! School starts tomorrow. I'm 35 years old and going back to college. Yay me! I know, I know. Not too many jump around joyously when they hear the word "school." But, I have always been this way. Or rather, most of the time I was this way. I loved school. I love learning. I am one of those strange little creatures who will sit around doing math puzzles, or taking apart computers to learn more about them.

There was a year or so my first go-round with college when the idea of going to class wasn't all that exciting. Or perhaps it would be better to say, I didn't care about going to class because something/someone else was more appealing. That doesn't mean I didn't like class. Although, a 7am micro-economics class doesn't exactly scream of excitement. But 7am visits to the dorms? Oh yes, that definitely screamed of excitement.

I do miss those dorms. I miss the friends and fun. Well, I guess it isn't exactly correct to say I miss the friends, as I have found most of them again. But, there is a bit of difference between the excitement of being young and stupid and the friendships we have now. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change still having these wonderful people in my life for anything. Just saying it's different than what we had way back then.

But I seem to be chasing my tail on that subject. Where was I?

Oh I forget. My head is stuck in 7am learning. Those were definitely lessons I'll always remember.

And alas, I have completely lost my train of thought on this one, and so I shall run off to find myself something constructive to do.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Another home?

I've decided to start a new blog. I have one on The Writer's Box, as most of my friends know (especially considering most of my friends live there as well); however, it has recently been made a private site, which makes an RSS feed to it from my FaceBook account rather difficult and slightly annoying.

Do not fear though - I will not be leaving the box. I am simply going to be housing my writings in both places, and of course (hopefully) having the posts updated to my FaceBook. I am a child of Social Media. One of its pawns. And quite proud of it.

This said, please be patient with me while I get used to updating various locations, especially with my recent lack of time (and energy).

Now then, onto the name of this site:

I was once compared to a rose. Okay, I've been compared to a rose on many occasions. Generally because of its thorns. Most look upon a rose as being something of beauty, symbolozing love and passion. But I find the rose as something much more. Yes, it has the potential for great love and passion. It also has the potential to cause bloodshed and pain. And the ability to wilt, to weep, to crave nourishment. It has the ability to draw one's attention close, only to then prick that someone and cause them to drop the rose and leave it laying on the ground alone.

In other words, here, on the Darkside of the Rose, you will find some of the pretty happy things we associate with roses. But you will most likely find even more of the darker things. If you don't like dark, dreary, and sometimes quite pathetic - don't read it. Everyone else, please read, enjoy, comment, and share as you see fit.