friendship

Reading And Writing And The Places They Have Taken Me

I have a small count, of the amount of books, I have read in my life. I wish someone like Bernie Freeman would’ve introduced me, to a love of books, in my childhood. I can’t help to raise my eyes into the rearview, touch the road behind me, wishing  for a portal, to change my “who has time for reading attitude”.

A lot of my high-school years were spent looking through windows of others trying to seal up their cracks, even if there was nothing to seal. I stood there creating a persona of support knowing support would create friendships.

School was not easy for me educationally, socially, or physically. The friends I did have, and still have today, I worked hard for. I wonder if I was able to go back, and change the person I was then. To whom I’m now, in this second. If I would end-up with the same results. I think I would, but I would have saved some energy for the reading, writing, and other educational subjects.

Five years ago, I took a basic English class. The teacher had us first free-writing: she told us to set the timer, and for fifteen minutes write whatever came to our minds. She said: “Don’t  worry about any grammar, just write”. We did this for a few weeks in and out of the classroom. She would also have us reading “Dead End in Norvelt” Which I instantly drew interest in the American author: Jack Gantos. She would have questions for us after every chapter and then ask us to describe in detail how we felt about the chapter. She also brought in a jean jacket, of hers. The jacket had been personalized. She wanted us to pick one material item, meaningful to us, and describe in detail what the material looked like on the outside, but also what the piece meant to us on the inside. She had us write our first draft in the beginning of the class, the second in the middle, then the third, fourth and fifth. Then at the end of our last class she showed us how far our writing had come from the beginning.

The final came around, and of course the topic the teacher had for the essay, took me all of the two hours. I poured my heart out writing about an old colleague of mine. After she told me “times up’.  She met me at the door, and took my paper. I was embarrassed, because I cry when I write. I was hoping to bow my head, put the essay on her desk, and get the hell out of dodge!

“Shelley I know you’re going to school for nursing, but I think you should continue an education in writing. A lot of people have a hard time tuning into the characters of  books they read, and you seem to do this well. I have enjoyed reading your work and hope to see you when time allows. Keep practicing”

I then found this platform and met others who encouraged me, as well.

A little over a year ago I started reading a blog about a mother, who writes to her daughter. She writes beautiful content, about life and the lessons she has learned. She led me to self discovery when she wrote about an old flame here. And how she ended the relationship without any explanation.

“I stopped talking to him altogether. And it was the cruelest and kindest thing I could think of”.

When commenting on her post about this particular line. I explained to her how she showed to me his side of the story instead of my own. Then she wrote a post on poetry where she removed another road block. One, I had put up myself. I used to think certain poetry was above me, and I wasn’t smart enough to read and understand certain poets and the poems they wrote.

“Poetry, though, is like a window on train: You see through it what you want to see, while simultaneously, the glass reflects you back. What I mean by “you own it,” is that your interpretation is equally valid to the poem’s meaning as that of the Poet’s. Too many people read poetry as if they’re trying to get to the right answer”.

I found myself diving into poetry on social media here. Author: Lang Leav writes brevity poems, powerful snippets about life and love. On her page, I then found Leo Christopher who wrote this:

“You assume I chose the most painful path, That my actions hurt you the most, but you’ll never know the sacrifices I made to spare you much grater heartache, sometimes that is the best love can do”.

Through these writers I was able find the peace from the past of my first love.

A while back Alyssa, you wrote a letter explaining where you’re with God. I try not to preach, although in person, you may tag me as such. I do not spit out verses because, I have never read the bible. I have gone to church and feel I have given my life to God. A while back I fell off the wagon of attending church.

I tried befriending a family from the church I was attending. They shot me down, snubbed me, and on my third attempt I could have sworn, I received an eye roll. I thought to myself.  This place is full of shit! However, I continue to pray and thank God for my family. I don’t have answers on why bad things happen or why he lets them happen. I do know, as you have shown me, in many post, like the examples I gave above. There is another side of the story.

When you wrote Leaning-into-the-lyre-on-the-occasion-that-you-need-hope, again with all your links you helped me understand depression, which my mother (step-mom) has suffered half my life.  On this particular blog post you posted another link  to a blogger who takes you “down the rabbit hole” of Sexual abuse. She compares her life to Virgina Woolf another writer I have heard of, but knew nothing about. When reading Woolf’s suicide letter.  I instantly heard my moms voice. She never committed suicide, but there were many times she wanted too. I was sorry for thinking one could come out of such hell so easily. I thank my mom, Lin from those depths, for loving my father all these years the way she has. I know you have made my father a happy man.

I’m no longer standing outside people’s windows to try to seal up cracks. I’m sitting here looking out my own window. Reading, writing, and getting educated. So, maybe one day, instead of trying to support the world. I can support myself and in turn. Be the person, I have always been.

Home

Hardwood Table

My mind

Sits at the table

Inside out

Outside In

All these sounds

Screaming in

Locust humming

Motors running

Cars Honking

someone coughing

feet tapping

Table squeaks

Blood boiling

Hard to breath

Fist clinched

Grinding teeth

racing heart

Whats wrong

With me

All this noise

Quiet shouts

Shouting at me

Calling me out!

 

 

 

Home

Cracked Window

Cracked window

I can’t get through

Squeaky swing

late night view

This swing feels light

The stars are bright

Back and forth

One more time

Crickets chirp

Spider web

This thick chain

Keeps me stead

Lily’s gaze

Crescent moon

All these

Cracks

I can’t fit

through

 

 

 

 

friendship · love

LooK OUT BELOW

The storm outside tonight wants to let loose but it’s stagnating, like my mind right now. The thunder sounds like a jet flying back and forth, waiting to drop a bomb. I want to type a post, but there is much on my mind, as always. Once in a while I get set free, but not tonight. So with this said, I have decided to share some post that have stood out to me. I will dedicate it to my two-hundred followers, this will also make blog post one-hundred-one. Go us!

My first shout out will always go to Diane from HOMETOGO232. Diane, writes about her mother, husband, kids, and sister. I can feel the love her single mother had for her, in her writing. There is a sweetness that fills your cup of tears, and overflows you with joy. She was my first follower, and also the first one to get me established on this platform. She took me under her wing, explaining things step by step, (on computer mind you) encouraging my writing. She became friends with me on fb and when I would post a story on their and was not writing on here. She would ask “why don’t you post this on your blog” and she did this on more than one occasion. In her blogroll her explanation of my blog says: “I write from the heart” it  makes me feel good, about what I do write. I had to do a double take of what she wrote, because I have read a few blogs that I consider “from the heart” and don’t think I measure up. However, Diane thank you for the compliment and keeping me going.

My second shout out is, dearlilyjune. I not only read this blog, but learn as well. The post I linked you to, is a favorite of mine. However, I have more than one. This post,  built me a road to drive on for miles that was not there before. I had always looked at certain poems, and said they were over my head, deeper than my own water-well. Poems like this one, which I love and she introduced that poem to me on this post. My good friend Freebird also writes poems and after reading dearlilyjunes post it came together because some poetry freebird writes is stuff only she knows, secrets from certain times in her life. When I asked her to break-down certain parts, she said no. Dearlilyjunes  taught me that I don’t need to understand word for word what the poet is trying to say. In her post she explains how to look at poetry from another light. I had been under the wrong impression and thank her for broaden my horizons. I want you to do what makes you happy, A. I can’t wrap this blip up without telling you what a great teacher you are, I do hope you re-consider.

My third shout out, is Freebird, If you all don’t know, we know one another, from my current job. She has found greener grass else where, and is using her degree. If you click on her name, it will take you, to one of my favorite blogs from her. I’m not a single mother. I have two good friends who had to raise their kids on their own. I think this post she wrote, is lovely, and hope a few more people stop by and read what she has to say. I don’ know how life feels for her, but she explains single motherhood well in this post. She grabbed my heart from start to finish. I would like to see a few of her own head over as well!

My fourth shout out, is The Hill Billy Blogger, one of the reasons I love this post, is because, I came across this beauty when writing my own blog about my first love, there is also a second half. I love reading and writing on this platform. I feel  something divine is going on. If we read about others and their lives, it helps  to make our own way through this life. In the first post about my first love. I told you, how I was restless with the way it ended. I began to read and took time to write my  second post, and it clearly shows an example of divine intervention.

My fifth shout, is The Playground, I enjoy this blog because it’s fun. She is friendly and always responds to her comments. She has a lot of quizzes, interesting facts, animals, and its an inviting blog. This post she posted not to long ago about Dr. Seuss was interesting, informative, and a bit of a spoiler on such a great writer, but without her fishing I never would have known. I suggest if you have not checked out her playground you go do so.

My Sixth shout is Harsh Reality, this is a short post. This post is ONE of my favorites Om. I’m a bit embarrassed to say why I like it as much as I do. I’m going to tell everyone, because you have taught me in your writing it’s okay to be myself on this platform, regardless of what others say. This post is short and sweet and made me feel like you were writing to me.

If  you would like to spread the love, post a link to a blog or a post you love, you would make my day.

Daily Post · friendship

Stanley

Day Two: A Room with a view. Today’s Prompt: If you could zoom through space in the speed of light, what place would you go to right now?

The man in his room on the edge of his bed

A glare on the floor from the light overhead

No pictures or paintings on his four corner walls

No radio or t.v from my view in the hall

One braille book on his pale white chair

The glare from the floor piercing my stare

He started to pray about all he had

He said thanks for the good and bad

The halls were quiet no soul in sight

The peace was different in those halls that night!

Daily Post

Masquerade

Day Six: A Character-Building Experience Today’s Prompt; Who’s the most interesting person or people you’ve met this year?

Do you prefer an open book or a mystery?

The most interesting person I have met this year is only what I have made her up to be. She prefers to play hide and seek, not only with who she is but with her words. If you read them over and over again, like any good book or movie, you can gather up pebbles she has dropped along the way.

The life she describes behind the screen as a wife, teacher, and friend looks nothing like the words she writes of a life of love she walked away from many miles down the road, and now is nothing but a hologram over her shoulder. She projects words out to her audience like an eagle gliding on an invisible air current.

My eyes fill with water enough to blur my vision, my throat tightens, and my heart goes out to her every time I read her words. I’m left wondering where she’s hiding, who she is, and how or if I should  throw her a life jacket to help her out of the deep rough water she seems to be in.

I’m typically drawn to people with wounds.It’s my nature to pick them up and cradle them in my arms, swaying back and forth or side to side. I wish I could crawl inside the screen to figure out a way to help her go back to the era of which she speaks. However, I don’t want to forfeit the fantasy I have created so, for now, I will take the quilt my grandma stitched depicting the milestones of my life and lay it down where everything is green. A small emerald creek bubbles over the mossy rocks as the animals relish the cooling water. Green saplings delicately line each side of the creek, forming a canopy from the beaming sun. I find a tree to lean against and quietly read her poetry worthy of rustic frame thickly lined with white leaves and the backdrop of the place I described to you.