So... Is it technically cheating if I do a compilation of various short stories to reach my 50,000 word goal? I mean, who can crank out a perfect book in that amount of time that they want printed into a book anyway? I'd rather have my short stories all in one place. So that's what I'm doing. I was digging through old blogs, trying to find some random ramblings that are worthy enough to even pass for something more than word vomit, edit it and compile it and BAM! Instant gratification for myself when I reach the 50,000 and can have my own book of short stories. Who cares if no one else can see it? This is for me.
So, dear people who may have been directed here by my Facebook, feel free to prowl through not only this blog but Inspirations Haven as well and comment any of your favourites along with its URL. The Best work could be revisited for edits and then into my little book of love and encouragement.
<3
Happy Writing.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Monday, September 5, 2011
Every VP Needs an outlet too...
It's 1:00 AM and I cant get any upload site to work but I need to share my flier for History CLub's participation in Pellissippi's 9/11 memorial.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Mixed Feelings
Earlier today I wrote in my Peer Tutoring class and two shorts resulted from it. The first, beautiful, hopeful, bold (and apparently completely inaccurate from what the setting should be, but nevertheless it's there and its what I want). The second is a more cynical approach to life and what's going on in mine especially. Again, expect emotional unburial.
A closed door stood before me; the music swelled from the chapel within. I stood quietly, nervously, and tightened my grip. I took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet perfume of baby's breath and roses. My eyes opened to the doors swinging wide; all of the church stood before me watching as I blushed, pink as the roses I held in my shaking hands. The crowd beamed at me. My mother dabbed at her eyes; my best friend held back a quiver. I slowly proceeded down the petal strewn aisle and saw the sea of red and white on either side of me. To my left, men straightened their kilts while the women patted their eyes. I looked straight down the aisle of this little church, and saw my love, my husband-to-be. He stood with a smile on his face and my son in front of him. They both stood radiating with happiness as Adam gave a small wave. He ran to stand by Grandma as I came to the alter. I smiled and held the hand of my love as the ceremony began....
And the second...
Now my body's on the floor and I am calling, well I'm calling out to you Can You Hear Me Now? (Hear Me Now-Framing Hanley)
My life has become an emotional tell-all. I let the bodies of the heart, soul, and mind lay open for all to see. You may observe the pain, the hurt, the regret. You may gaze at my love, my hatred. Stare down my beliefs and turn through my every thought and lie. It's chronicled perfectly for you choosing and selection. Analyze me. Observe me. I lay as open as the Bible on the nightstand of that sleazy motel you visited last weekend. The pathetic doctor unlocked the floodgate. She instigated the flooding, the neverending floodwaters of emotion and regret. Allow me to talk just for one second and you'll soon discover my life story. Bottles in my mind led to implosion and combustion. Stories and openness brings relief. Relief but vulnerability. Every thought of mine is yours to muse, to ponder. It's dominating, the way you insist to know my every thought. Its demeaning that I tell you, rather than you be mad or upset with me. In all reality, this hidden rant should stay on paper, in a journal far away from the outside intrusion. Yet it'll end up on a blog or email or other avenue I know you'll stumble upon. Why? That's what I wish to know. Why do I open everything to you? Keep it all public and pervert my own privacy and secrets? They say there's a relief in talking to strangers; a magical relief that coats your mind and soul to know you don't have to carry it around anymore. But when your stranger becomes a friend or your new interest, are you interested in them for truly them--their personality, companionship, etc etc--or do you simply enjoy that constantly open drain? Is it that person that you love or the relief they provide? How can you even tell? How do you know when you truly love and it's not just make-believe?
I've been struggling with this one for awhile. Remember these two posts were written back to back in about an hour, and the song listed at the beginning of the second is what I believe helped to inspire the latter writing. The problem is that when stream of consciousness appears as it just does, it leaves you feeling numb. Numb and unable to explain what's going on. Because of my past relationship (to any person who stumble across this and notices the three year gap between posts it's simply because of the hurtful relationship I was in), it's hard to come to grips with what love is, especially when it's a love like mine (see previous posts for more information). I'm hoping that when/if he reads this he'll understand. Thank you (to any of those random readers) for allowing the unburials and I hope to post soon.
Forever yours,
Kayy
A closed door stood before me; the music swelled from the chapel within. I stood quietly, nervously, and tightened my grip. I took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet perfume of baby's breath and roses. My eyes opened to the doors swinging wide; all of the church stood before me watching as I blushed, pink as the roses I held in my shaking hands. The crowd beamed at me. My mother dabbed at her eyes; my best friend held back a quiver. I slowly proceeded down the petal strewn aisle and saw the sea of red and white on either side of me. To my left, men straightened their kilts while the women patted their eyes. I looked straight down the aisle of this little church, and saw my love, my husband-to-be. He stood with a smile on his face and my son in front of him. They both stood radiating with happiness as Adam gave a small wave. He ran to stand by Grandma as I came to the alter. I smiled and held the hand of my love as the ceremony began....
And the second...
Now my body's on the floor and I am calling, well I'm calling out to you Can You Hear Me Now? (Hear Me Now-Framing Hanley)
My life has become an emotional tell-all. I let the bodies of the heart, soul, and mind lay open for all to see. You may observe the pain, the hurt, the regret. You may gaze at my love, my hatred. Stare down my beliefs and turn through my every thought and lie. It's chronicled perfectly for you choosing and selection. Analyze me. Observe me. I lay as open as the Bible on the nightstand of that sleazy motel you visited last weekend. The pathetic doctor unlocked the floodgate. She instigated the flooding, the neverending floodwaters of emotion and regret. Allow me to talk just for one second and you'll soon discover my life story. Bottles in my mind led to implosion and combustion. Stories and openness brings relief. Relief but vulnerability. Every thought of mine is yours to muse, to ponder. It's dominating, the way you insist to know my every thought. Its demeaning that I tell you, rather than you be mad or upset with me. In all reality, this hidden rant should stay on paper, in a journal far away from the outside intrusion. Yet it'll end up on a blog or email or other avenue I know you'll stumble upon. Why? That's what I wish to know. Why do I open everything to you? Keep it all public and pervert my own privacy and secrets? They say there's a relief in talking to strangers; a magical relief that coats your mind and soul to know you don't have to carry it around anymore. But when your stranger becomes a friend or your new interest, are you interested in them for truly them--their personality, companionship, etc etc--or do you simply enjoy that constantly open drain? Is it that person that you love or the relief they provide? How can you even tell? How do you know when you truly love and it's not just make-believe?
I've been struggling with this one for awhile. Remember these two posts were written back to back in about an hour, and the song listed at the beginning of the second is what I believe helped to inspire the latter writing. The problem is that when stream of consciousness appears as it just does, it leaves you feeling numb. Numb and unable to explain what's going on. Because of my past relationship (to any person who stumble across this and notices the three year gap between posts it's simply because of the hurtful relationship I was in), it's hard to come to grips with what love is, especially when it's a love like mine (see previous posts for more information). I'm hoping that when/if he reads this he'll understand. Thank you (to any of those random readers) for allowing the unburials and I hope to post soon.
Forever yours,
Kayy
Monday, March 21, 2011
Revival
I haven't written in awhile. In all honesty, I forgot about this blog. I have others sprinkled about now, but with a new chapter of my life definitely coming alive (more than just a baby and new relationship blooming) I think the post I've had on my mind lately will definitely be served justice here. I don't know what exactly came over me to warrant the thoughts on my mind lately. It could be the life-changing trip I just came back from where I walked the streets of Italy, Austria and Germany, watching as love bloomed not only in the lives' of those who lived in the beautiful towns, but in my tour group as well. Maybe it was the distance (ha!) between me and my new other. Maybe it's the fact I've been listening to mellow Beatles for an hour now. Either way, this new urge has arisen to write. And to write to my heart's content. I once mentioned a "sin" I had committed by writing so freely and uncovered--my emotions laid out for the world to see--or at least the stray stumbler to happen across these words of rambling. I believe I called it an unburial of feelings, or some variation of that. I just remember a funeral scene had popped into my mind. Either way.... Time for another emotional break, a rambling of words, a revival and break all in one.
How, just how did we meet? I can't remember the exact moment I saw it, nor can I remember how you got my name. Either way it happened. During my time of emotional breakdown, in the midst of the tears and cries of suicide, as I sat there in that room, you somehow caught my eye. I was desperate for anyone to talk to. I'd even talk to the Pirate in the room if he would stop accusing me of being a male for longer than three lines. Somehow, and I don't think either of us know, but somehow, you popped into my register. You showed yourself plain and clear with a simple "hey." And that's how it began.
It's not some romantic meeting in the dimly lit restaurant. It wasn't even an accidental bump in the grocery store. It was a chat room. And not even a classy one at that. It was that chat where you had to ignore the pervs, nevermind the pedos, and just hope Pirate would stop spamming and threatening to boot you long enough for something of some substance to be said. But it was Pirate--it wasn't likely. And thus, on that day after Christmas (or somewhere around there) we talked. And of course we both thought it was nothing more than a friendly chat, chitchat late at night because you couldn't sleep. Couldn't think. Couldn't function.
There's something relieving in talking to absolute strangers. Why parents condemn it I'll never know (theoretically). It's theurapeutic and relieving to talk to someone who you know won't judge you. You don't have to look them in the eye the next day, and if you truly wanted to, all you had to do was block the person and they would be stuck wondering about your secret you spilled, how you made it out, if you did. A simple delete would end the awkward, shut the relief and leave you open for a new one. Anyway...
We began to talk, and I soon developed somewhat of a crush. Something sparked, and I began private messaging this boy. But there's a problem: he's in Scotland.
Have you ever seen that sappy love story about a girl and boy meeting and following each other across the world just to be together? Did you ever think you could love someone from far away, without ever truly meeting them? Yeah, it's okay. I didn't either.
We talked, and I would find myself waiting for his screenname to pop up on my iPod. Yep, my ipod. Told you it wasn't classy or romantic in the least. But anyhow, I found myself waiting for this text, this message. some connection with this boy I had developed a connection with over the past few days. He replaced the crying, the loneliness, the sadness. It was like being at a Beatles concert (or what I would imagine it to be anyway). Complete zen. Calm. Peace. It was a thing that you hear preachers talking about at church and you have no clue what he was talking about. I did now. (And yes, I do believe this boy from Scotland was a godsend, someone to help me through my trial of need and hurt and longing for unjudgement when I didnt fully trust God yet myself.)
But anyway, I've struggled to write this for three weeks now and I've got another post on my mind so I'll finish this and maybe tell you about my boy another time. <3
forever yours,
Kayy
How, just how did we meet? I can't remember the exact moment I saw it, nor can I remember how you got my name. Either way it happened. During my time of emotional breakdown, in the midst of the tears and cries of suicide, as I sat there in that room, you somehow caught my eye. I was desperate for anyone to talk to. I'd even talk to the Pirate in the room if he would stop accusing me of being a male for longer than three lines. Somehow, and I don't think either of us know, but somehow, you popped into my register. You showed yourself plain and clear with a simple "hey." And that's how it began.
It's not some romantic meeting in the dimly lit restaurant. It wasn't even an accidental bump in the grocery store. It was a chat room. And not even a classy one at that. It was that chat where you had to ignore the pervs, nevermind the pedos, and just hope Pirate would stop spamming and threatening to boot you long enough for something of some substance to be said. But it was Pirate--it wasn't likely. And thus, on that day after Christmas (or somewhere around there) we talked. And of course we both thought it was nothing more than a friendly chat, chitchat late at night because you couldn't sleep. Couldn't think. Couldn't function.
There's something relieving in talking to absolute strangers. Why parents condemn it I'll never know (theoretically). It's theurapeutic and relieving to talk to someone who you know won't judge you. You don't have to look them in the eye the next day, and if you truly wanted to, all you had to do was block the person and they would be stuck wondering about your secret you spilled, how you made it out, if you did. A simple delete would end the awkward, shut the relief and leave you open for a new one. Anyway...
We began to talk, and I soon developed somewhat of a crush. Something sparked, and I began private messaging this boy. But there's a problem: he's in Scotland.
Have you ever seen that sappy love story about a girl and boy meeting and following each other across the world just to be together? Did you ever think you could love someone from far away, without ever truly meeting them? Yeah, it's okay. I didn't either.
We talked, and I would find myself waiting for his screenname to pop up on my iPod. Yep, my ipod. Told you it wasn't classy or romantic in the least. But anyhow, I found myself waiting for this text, this message. some connection with this boy I had developed a connection with over the past few days. He replaced the crying, the loneliness, the sadness. It was like being at a Beatles concert (or what I would imagine it to be anyway). Complete zen. Calm. Peace. It was a thing that you hear preachers talking about at church and you have no clue what he was talking about. I did now. (And yes, I do believe this boy from Scotland was a godsend, someone to help me through my trial of need and hurt and longing for unjudgement when I didnt fully trust God yet myself.)
But anyway, I've struggled to write this for three weeks now and I've got another post on my mind so I'll finish this and maybe tell you about my boy another time. <3
forever yours,
Kayy
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