Monthly Archives: August 2015

That moment…

The moment someone slips away from you is not always a dramatic one. It can be quiet and gentle like a silent breeze you aren’t quite sure you felt. The realization of those moments, I think, are the saddest and also the hardest.

Do you quickly reach out and try to yank back everything you are watching slip away? Do you see how far it will go before they notice what is happening and return to you? Do you put a hand out and give them a choice to come back, no questions asked? Do you even care that it is happening? What does that say about you if you don’t? 

What happens if they are thinking the same thoughts you are, asking themselves the same questions and waiting to see if you make the move to bring it up? Does it make you a bad person if you just don’t care anymore?

The moment you notice someone slipping away can be as simple as looking at the time. Looking at the time and realizing that the person you never go without speaking to at least every few hours has not contacted you since earlier that morning. This matters because this is not a one time thing, this has been a growing trend for a few months now. The conversations are further between, they are shorter…different, like friends and nothing more. Just. Friends. Even friends could be too strong a word for these types of conversations, they become more like acquaintance type of talks. Small talk.

“It’s raining today,” says one.

“Oh really? It’s been sunny all day here,” answers the other.

Literally conversations about the weather.

Then silence.

Sparse phone calls are filled with long silent moments.

And then that moment comes at 2:45 in the morning and you realize a whole day has passed and you haven’t spoken to them all day. Neither of you made that move to make the effort. Neither of you have extended that hand out, offering the chance that either of you care.

And then the saddest moment comes; the moment you would rather make a blog post than reach out to the one you have felt slipping away.

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Friday nights with coffee and editing…

  
When you end up rewriting like 12 pages by hand.

I honestly didn’t think I would ever hand write this much again. Ever. I’m super glad I remembered how to do it. Amen.

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I should be alone…

Isn’t it unfair
That I should be alone, waiting for you
I stay alone, I stay alone
I should be alone, waiting for you
I stay alone, I stay alone

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In (Late) Memoriam…

First off…today I was browsing through different blogs, and I realized that apparently I am doing this blogging thing wrong. Well, I don’t know…I was highly unaware that people like plan out their blog postings and have topics ready to discuss on their blogs. I just sit in front of my computer and my fingers go to whatever I feel like typing about. On a few occasions, I have felt compelled to write about something in particular, like tonight. But mostly, I just get out what is on my mind so it is clear for writing, editing, sleep, or just because I feel comfortable saying things on here that don’t come out so easily to others. Not that I am shy, I just learned that sometimes tact is the best option when dealing with folks and when I speak, I have zero of that. But anyways, i apologize if my blog seems like a bunch of words and topics strewn together. Anyway…

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Stormy night editing…

  
I hate thunder and lightning. So this was a good time to sit in the hallway (do not judge me) and get some editing done with my music on as loud as I can get it in my ears. 

Distraction has turned into productivity…and murder. Murder of those poor pages. RIP.

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Yes, I’m from the South…No, I do not have the Confederate flag tattooed on my ass.

So a few good things happened today, which I felt compelled to share.

finally got my hands on some good sized green tomatoes. FINALLY. It’s like people only want red tomatoes and I can never find any nice sized green ones. That means that for the first time this summer, I can actually make some fried green tomatoes. The joy inside my heart is almost uncontainable. That’s not a word, but okay. But I live for a plate of fried green tomatoes with a light dusting of salt and a lot of hot sauce. You may not understand why I love them so much, but I promise you…come over and I will show you the truth and the light. Or, if it is easier…find an easy recipe and make them yourself. You. are. welcome.

My new “Olivia Pope” wine glasses finally came in. I was missing my super “classy” glasses since someone broke my last two. That someone would be me, but that is because they are really fragile and if you look at them wrong they will shatter. However, I love them, so I got more. Thanks Crate&Barrel. You the real MVP.

I find happiness in the little things. K. Bye.

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Epiphanies.

I laid in bed last night and stared at my ceiling. I stared, and I thought. I asked myself over and over again what the hell was wrong with me. Why was it when I first started to write my book was I was full steam ahead, and now that it is finally all out in the open…I lost that steam. Like I have mentioned in previous posts, I am into the second draft. I am rewriting and editing things that were so blaring when I went back and read what looked like a sixth grader attempting to write their first book. Although, while I was writing this first draft, in my head the whole time I thought I was writing the next great masterpiece. After I read my words, I closed the document and asked my fingers, “What the actual fuck was that?”

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Tonight.

It is probably a very good thing that my whole book is typed into my computer, otherwise its fate would look something like

Only I envision each sheet of paper being lit on fire. That is how I feel right now. I open my file and I stare at it, and then i go look up videos like, “Black Eyed Peas Oprah Flashmob,” which leads me to “Watch Oprah give away 200 cars,” and then somehow I spend an hour watching videos of people being surprised with puppies while I cry into my glass of wine. Okay, I don’t actually cry. I mean, I do, but not because I’m sad. I cry when i see people cry, and everyone cries when they are surprised with a puppy.

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In response to another challenge

So, I started following a fellow blogger and writer (because he likes to use the word fuck and so do I, and dammit, if that isn’t a reason to follow someone then what is?) recently and today he posted this writing challenge:

Make me sympathize with a man who killed his own brother

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Six Word Story Challenge 1

Ran across a beautiful blog by Ben Nicholson. He put a six word story challenge up, and I decided to take it. This will be my first one.

The theme was: loss.

It barged in, uninvited. Fucking cancer.

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