Sliding Glass Window Oberservations From A Grenade

Yesterday I watched from my sliding glass window, five young men wearing the same color suit. Four of them wore ties folded in Windsor knots. One of them wore a slick bow tie. There was a sixth man. A photographer wearing khakis, took candid shots of them as they changed from gym to dress shoes, straightened each others ties and goofed off, like young men do. My guess was, they were the groom and attendants for a wedding. Or maybe they were an a cappella group. Who knows?

My apartment complex is set back in a wooded area, so the photographer took them behind the building to get more shots. They left their gym shoes and back packs resting on the hoods of their vehicles. Their doors were left wide open. When they returned, they grabbed all their crap and jammed themselves into their vehicles. They and the khaki panted photographer headed off to parts unknown. I was excited to observe them as they smile radiantly and wore the same color suits. Four of them with ties folded in Windsor knots. The other, maybe the groom, wearing a slick bow tie.

Often, my observational posts begin on my personal Facebook page. An idea hits me and I have to write it down. I’m sure it drives many of my friends crazy because my posts can get a little lengthy. Whatever, then take me out of your news feed! On second thought, please don’t, because I want you to read my observations. Looking at my window is about the only place I can draw inspiration right now.  I’ve kinda been stuck in my apartment for 70 days.

My focus waned and I didn’t write much more till I arrived home from My Trivia last night. At 1:00 a.m I began writing a lengthy email to a friend, when the following quote popped into my Sparkly little head:

 I wanted to know that he would be okay if I did. I wanted to not be a grenade, to not be a malevolent force in the lives of the people I loved.–John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

I wrote to my friend, I am a goddamn grenade.

I realized that in my married life and when I was raising my kids, I was a grenade. I was a malevolent force that ruined everything in my path. I was an F5 tornado or category 5 hurricane. And I was hell bent on self destructing. The self destruction included being a horrible drunk, a slow suicide with food and conversing with men that I had no business talking to.

I don’t want to be a grenade, anymore.

My ultimate goal is to try to find peace within my stormy, passionate and romantic heart. My ultimate goal is to not judge others and somehow rise above the transgressions of my past. I’ve sought forgiveness from God. I can’t go back and change anything. I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m not even looking for forgiveness from Roger Darling, Meggie or Adam Boy. All I can do is keep my mouth shut, my mind clear and try to be happy.

I wish for the three I’ve hurt the most to be happy, because I don’t want to be a goddamn grenade, anymore.

I talked to my mother today and I asked her when I should stop saying I’m sorry for all the havoc I wreaked? Her response was as soon as put down the bucket of guilt I continued to carry around. I may never be completely forgiven by my children or the man I shared 24 years of my life with, but I’m going to put down that bucket. I’m sure there will be times in my life that I will pick it up again. There will always be a part of me that knows that I fucked everything up.

I’m also acutely aware that I will probably be alone for the rest of my life because of what I’ve done. I have to be okay with that.  I have to realize that there is no such thing as unconditional love, except for the love we give our children. On this journey to myself, I’ve discovered I am a child of God. I am a sinner, but even sinners need to forgive themselves.

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches over me…

He watches over Meggie and Adam.

And I know, He watches over Roger Darling.

 

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A Scrap of Paper

paperWe carry scraps of paper with us wherever we go. In our purses, pockets, and wallets. The receipts, notebooks or envelopes capture the cascade of thoughts before they can escape our psyche and fade into oblivion. They become our sacred scrolls, and chronicle every day life.  A bit of chicken scratch could become a novel. Or something even more profound. The solving of a philosophical argument that has been brewing for thousands of years.

Maybe it’s a bit of poetry that strikes us. An errant rain drop, a spider building its web or the sound of a distant train whistle could leave us breathless. Grappling for a cocktail napkin and the bartender’s pen in a crowded bar during Happy Hour on Friday night.

We catch these blips of the mind and put pen to paper. Sometimes, the words that come never cease. What we thought would take us a few moments to pen, takes us hours to complete. By the time we are finished we are shaking with emotion and usually exhausted.

Sometimes, the story can be summed up in a sentence. Or 100 words. It doesn’t really matter the word count though does it? As long as one person is affected by the piece, the effort to catch that thought was worth it.

Inspiration has hit me at a Starbucks. A wedding. A funeral. On my drive home. Hell, even in my car waiting at a toll booth on I-76 while watching a couple argue in the car behind me. I’ve even trapped ideas in the notes app on my iPhone.

I like that the mundane inspires me. And I also dig that first draft of this post was written on the back of my grocery list this morning. I was waiting on my Adam Boy to finish his shift at Starbucks. I heard him bantering with his work mates. It made me smile. And made me write my thoughts down.

About writing. About inspiration. And ultimately about my love of chicken scratch on a scrap of paper.

Thursday Quote-Brian Andreas

Pieces

She left pieces of her life behind her everywhere she went. It’s easier to feel the sunlight without them, she said.

Brian Andreas, Story People: Selected Stories & Drawings of Brian Andreas

No words from me today. Instead, I’ll share words that my friends wrote about said quote. I hope my will to write will return. Soon….

“It’s easier to see the SUNSHINE without them”, she said.
What a brilliant statement about moving forward and letting the past go.
And as the sun shone through, each and every spot that
once was plugged by the no longer needed pieces,
she could bask in the essence of what she knew to be her calling.
The very core of what exemplified her true north….

She could, for the first time, in a long time, begin to see,
to hear, to feel and taste the seeds of where her growth had emanated from.

Like sparkles on the ground reflecting in the sun light.

Friday Fictioneers-Wherever She is, is Home

Friday Fictioneers is brought to us by none other, than Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The prompt this week is from Rich Voza. It’s a beaut.

The story will be romantic. I promise, no broken hearts this week. It’ll be a happy one. For a follower and dear friend. I won’t divulge who it is, but she knows. That’s all that matters.

Genre: Romance

Copyright-Rich Voza

Sunrise on a red eye flight. Thoughts of her kept him awake. Gone three days, felt like three months. No texts, phone calls. No email. He aches to hold her. Smell her hair. See her blue eyes sparkle. Feel lips whisper on his neck, maybe give a gentle bite.

Plane touches down. He exits the airport. He sees her, waiting. He’s missed her kisses. Her touch. Their lips meet. It’s like no time has passed.

“Hello love, I’ve missed you.”

“Hi there, Sunshine.”

“You ready to go home?”

“Wherever you are is my home, love.”

She smiles, her eyes dance.

A Beautiful Blogger Award for Me? Why Thank You.

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I was nominated for the Beautiful Blogger Award by a sweet man named Benjamin at Expressions of My Life-An Evolution of Art. He and I have become fast friends over the gorgeous artwork, words, photos, and music that he posts. He makes the nicest comments on my silly posts and stories. He wows me with his work and I adore his candidness. I like a person that’s not afraid to say what they feel and feel what they say. I think I kinda do that myself.

Now, seven random bits about me:

1. I’m better friends with men than I am with women.
2. I love easily, but I’m very selfish.
3. I’d never written anything until January 4, 2012. I hated English when I was a kid. Hated school. ADHD.
4. I used to be morbidly obese.
5. I love pin up girls and I love wearing pin up style clothing.
6. My idol is Marilyn Monroe. I do believe her heart beats in my chest. I do.
7. If I could I’d have a 1/2 sleeve tattoo on the upper part of both arms. One of Jack Skellington on my left calf and Marilyn on the right thigh.

*Bonus (because I like to talk about myself): I’ve had the pleasure of being friends with some beautiful gothic princesses. I would give anything to be a tatted up goth. Every damn day for the rest of my life. It has less to do with being emo and the music. And more to do with an attitude and clothing.  Give me a tatted up pompadoured prince, or a tatted up Bettie Page look alike and I’m in Heaven. Giggle.

Next I nominate 7 others. My tastes are eclectic to say the least. Who knows what I’ll come up with. 🙂 Please check my fellow bloggers out. They deserve a follow or two. By the way, I have many favorites, but my absolute most favoritest ever is t from As Long as I’m Singing. Follow him. I swear you will not be sorry. His journal entries and fictional stories will move you like no other writer will. I know he’s going to kick my ass for the nomination and talking him up so much, but he should know by now I do whatever in the hell I want. Hahahahahahaha! Seriously, go follow him now.

As Long as I’m Singing

Palestine Rose

Edward Hotspur

Toe Mail

A Sexual Being

The Other Side of Ugly

Hasty Words

*Bonus nomination (because I do what I want!): BoomieBol

I could tell you why I nominated these fine bloggers but what’s the fun in that go see what their doing and give them so WP hugs!!!
Thank you and good night!! Ah hell, who am I kidding. I’ll be up half the fucking night writing and reading. (See Benjamin, I told you I’d say fuck at least once. Oops, I just said it twice. Giggle, snort!

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX,

Sparkly Girl

The Booker Award

The Booker Award Nomination

I feel like such a shit because it took me so damn long to acknowledge Magnolia Beginnings for this lovely nomination. It wasn’t hard for me to come up with five favorite books. I’m kind of a book whore. It was extremely hard to whittle it down to only 5 but here it goes.

Along with being nominated, the nominee is to list their top 5 favorite books.  I hate to play favorites, but I think I can manage to list 5 books that have had a significant impact on me.

  1. The Time Machine by H.G. Wells : This is probably the first book that got me interested in the post-apocalyptic genre. There was something so intriguing to me about the world coming to an end and then being re-invented. The protagonist must then travel back in time to try and save the future. What a great read.
  2. The Stand: Unabdridged by Stephen King: I read this book every damn summer. It goes with me to the beach, pool or the back porch. I have read it so many times I can recite the dialogue. There is something about Larry, who is my favorite character that I can identify with. Probably because he’s all kinds of fucked up but he’s a good man at heart. Read it. You won’t be sorry. 
  3. The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson: This is by far the saddest love story I have ever read. The story of a former porn star that is severely burned and then is visited by a woman that says they were lovers many lifetimes ago. For me the most heart wrenching part was the story of the young child who’s lungs are so severely burned by a reaction to a medication that  she will never recover. With all of her strength she walks to the bed of our unnamed narrator, crawls into his bed, holds his hand, prays for him and then they both fall asleep. He wakes to find that she is still holding his hand but she is no longer breathing. It took all of her strength and breath just to die in his arms.
  4. Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg: Idgie Threadgood is one of my all time heroes. I love her spunk, her ability to drink, and to tell it like it is. She didn’t take shit. Even when she stood trial for murder.
  5. Rage by Richard Bachman (Stephen King): This book is no longer in print because the subject matter is all too familiar to us in these trying times. It is about a young man with a gun that holds captive a roomful of students and a teacher. King said that after Columbine, he couldn’t bring himself to re-print it. Fortunately, I have a collector’s copy. It contains three of my favorite Bachman Books. Rage, The Long Walk, and The Running Man. All three stories are kick ass!

As I said it’s hard to play favorites.  There are loads more I could list, but these I felt were the most impactful—at least at the present.

Participation in the Booker Award means adhering to the following rules:

  1. Nominate 5-10 bloggers and let your recipients know.
  2. Post The Booker Award picture.
  3. Share your top 5 books of all time.

So I’ll now include my nominees:

http://boomiebol.wordpress.com/
http://youjivinmeturkey.com/
http://kylemew.com/
http://birdmartin.wordpress.com
http://www.theeyeoffaith.com

Congratulations to my nominees. I’ll be looking forward to reading what 5 books you post as your favorites.

I’m Auditioning for Blogger Idol!

 

BLOGGER IDOL ROCKS

Click on the link above

Because Writers are the New Rock Stars!

Good morning my sweet readers and followers. I wanted to let you all know that I’m auditioning for a groovy thing called Blogger Idol. I’ve only been writing since January 2012, but I decided what the hell. I might as well give a shot. My readership goes up every day and so does my follower count. You all complete my sparkly ass and make me feel my words matter.  You see my passion and feed it. For that I’m so grateful. The competition will be fierce I’m sure but it can’t hurt to try. Who knows maybe I’ll make the top 12 or maybe I won’t make shit.

I was talking to Vikki (The View Outside) and commented on her entry, You Know You’re a Writer When….. I told her I knew it when:

I knew it when I could look at a photo and see a whole story unfold before my eyes. I knew it when I could see a word or hear a phrase and write a whole page about it. I knew it when I saw a couple in an SUV arguing in my rear view mirror at a toll booth and I wrote a short story about them. I knew after realizing that I thrived on every written word that I had ever read. Whether it was a book, a letter, a card or an email from a dear friend. I knew it and I know it still. I hope and I pray that the words never stop coming. It is my passion, my life, my story. I never ever want it to stop.
  • Beautiful rheath40. I wish I’ve have expressed myself this well.
  • Wow honey, I am in awe…and so very very jealous! ;)

    Xx

    • No need for jealousy. We are both writers. We get better as we write. We get better as we read other writers. Isn’t this a great experience?
    • It certainly is honey! :)
      I’m excited about the competition. The prizes are pretty kick ass. A Samsung Galaxy Tablet 2 7.0 Student Edition. Blog2Print so you can make a book. God wouldn’t that be awesome???? The first runner up gets chocolate, Ghirardelli no less, and Dragon Naturally Speaking. Yeah that’s just what I need voice software so I can write more. Roger Darling will divorce me for sure, because I’ll never shut up! There’s organic foods, gourmet coffee and retail therapy prizes too. Because God knows after my weight loss I’ve become a clothes and shoes whore. By the way, I got a new pin up style mini skirt yesterday that I’m in fucking love with!!!
      There’s six weeks of assignments to do. I have no idea what they are yet but I’m sure it’ll entail writing. DUH! So hang in my readers, followers and friends. Vote for me please!!! Tell your friends and have them vote for me too. Even if they think I suck. Giggle. This is going to be the most  fun!
      Thanks my loves, from the bottom of my sparkly girl heart!

I Still Love You, New York

I remember the day the world stop turning. I remember where I was, and how I felt. The helplessness. I remember watching it unfold on television. I realized right then that our lives would never be the same. The security I felt, was gone. The arrogance of knowing what a great country I lived in, was gone. The innocence of my children, was gone. What it was replaced with was fear. What would happen next? When? Where? Why? How?

We had news feeds going on all of the televisions in the SSW. Classes were eventually canceled for the rest of the day. Staff were told to go home. We weren’t getting anything done anyway. We were too devastated. So many of my colleagues and friends were trying to get through to loved ones that were in NYC, and DC. Everything was jammed up. No calls in or out. When I got home I turned on the news. We had satellite television so our local stations came out of NYC. I live in Michigan. Go figure. I was riveted. I watched every bit of coverage that I could. I sat and cried. I listened to the screams and the cries as the towers came down. I saw the horror on the onlookers faces. The dust, the debris, the screaming, the running, the blood, all of it. I thought of the human wreckage. I thought of what to tell my children when they came home from school. The questions that they would have. Like why would people we don’t know want to hurt people that they don’t know? How do you answer that? How do you tell a 9 and 10 year old that there is evil in this world that can’t be explained? How? I thought of the intense hatred I felt for whoever did this to us.

A few years later I stood at Ground Zero. It was Fall. The air was cool. The sky partly cloudy. The patches of blue in the sky were lit by a beautiful Fall sun. I looked into the tomb. The group of teenagers I was with, were being respectful. Which was unusual. Hell, it was unusual for this sparkly, crazy momma to be respectful. But we all knew we were at a grave site. That it was our duty to be respectful. We looked at pictures, flowers and other artifacts that were placed on the various fences. We took pictures. K and I cried. It took us back to that day. It was strange being there. In such a loud and vibrant city, it was so peaceful. We went across the street to St. Paul’s Church and went inside. There were shrines, notes, flowers, posters, pictures. Everything you could think of. We didn’t speak. We just took it all in. We lit candles. I know, I know I’m no fan of organized religion. But I’m a Christian first and foremost, so I lit a damn candle. I said prayers for those taken from us, the survivors, the first responders. Everyone of us.

I think about the folks in the towers before they collapsed. I think about making the choice to jump or burning to death. I’m sure I would have jumped. I would have grabbed my Broseph’s R and K. My two favorite colleagues that I wouldn’t mind dying with. I would have wrapped my arms around them, kissed them both sweetly and passionately. Hell if you’re going to die, you might as well go out with a bang. I would have locked hands with them and jumped. We would have prayed to sprout wings on our descent. But known we would have earned them on impact.

In the days, months and years that followed people have asked me, did I know anyone that died. No I didn’t. I knew none of them, but I knew all of them. They were humans sharing my planet, my country. Therefore I mourn for them. They were people with families, with lives to live, bills to pay, babies to be born, and shit to do. So because they were all of those things and more I mourn for them. We all do. We always will. I still believe I live in the greatest country in the world. I do. I still believe that if you work hard you can make it here. That we have endless opportunities and we have endless possibilities. Planes crashing into buildings and killing thousands did not dampen our American spirit. I believe it only intensified it. It also brought other countries to our side. We did not realize how much we were loved until tragedy hit. But isn’t that the way it usually happens? You never know how strong you are until tragedy does hit? And hit us it did. Every single one of us, whether we knew someone personally that died or not. It changed us. All of us. Forever.

The Musings of a Geeky Blonde Bombshell

Help me Obi Wan. You’re my only hope.-Princess Leia-Star Wars: Episode IV-A New Hope

Geek, geek, geek. Nerd, nerd, nerd. Derp, derp, derp. Me, me, me. Yes, this sparkly girl is a closet geek, nerd, derp. Whatever you want to call it. I am. There’s nothing more fun than watching the Star Wars Trilogy on DVD on a cold, snowy afternoon in the middle of a long Michigan winter. Of course you must be wrapped up in your favorite blanket, with a bowl of fresh, buttery popcorn and a huge glass of Diet Coke with lots of ice. You must watch episodes IV, V, VI. Because I, II, and III suck ass! I watched I and II. But you couldn’t pay me to watch episode III. For the love of God I want to go smack George Lucas across the face for taking some of my favorite childhood memories and shitting all over them. I, II and III are drivel.

Of course I have the entire Twilight Zone library on DVD. I’ve watched them all at least once. But what I really like to do is watch them all on the SYFY channel on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. Roger Darling watches football all day. I watch the Twilight Zone marathon. I watch it in bed. The only time I stop is when I nap, need to pee, eat, or drink something. Roger walks in to check on me from time to time. When he gazes at me through the bedroom door, he sees I’m still transfixed by the episode I’m watching. Doesn’t matter which one it is, I’m still mesmerized.

If it’s dystopian, post-apocolyptic, fantasy, sci-fi shit I want to watch it, read it, devour it. I love video games, but I can’t play them, because I have terrible hand-eye coordination. And the controllers confuse the fuck out of me. I love comic books too. I so want to go to the San-Diego Comic-Con. I would be in geeky girl heaven.  All those characters, and the spectators dressed as their favorite super heroes. Ah bliss! Of course I would have to be dressed as Wonder Woman. Ha!

Geeky computer shit makes this silly sparkly girl’s heart go pitter pat. One of my favorite websites is geeksaresexy.net. There’s every kind of geeky thing you can think of all in one place. Love, love, love it!

Screw romance novels, they do nothing for me. Give me the love story of  The Lord of the Rings trilogy please. All of the love stories actually. Even the love and obsession of the ring. Of course my favorite love story in the series is the love between Aragorn and Arwen. Love and immortality, they kind of go together, don’t you think? I mean, would you really want to live forever without the love of your life? That would be merely existing. And who wants to just exist? I know that I sure wouldn’t.

So grab a book by J.K. Rowling, J.R.R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis or a host of many other authors. Find your old Star Wars movies on DVD too. Bring out your inner geek from time to time. Or your outer geek. Whatever the case may be. It most certainly doesn’t have to be put off till a snowy and cold day during a Michigan winter.

The Sweet Smell of Sunscreen

 

I smell sunscreen in the air. Orange creamsicle and coconut aromas waft near my nose. I’m at the adult pool in the Pines. Taking in the sights and sun. The sun, the sun is so vibrant. The clouds like cotton, but sparse enough for the sun to shine through and warm my skin. There’s no humidity and the temperature is about 80 degrees. It’s perfect, perfect, perfect.

I’m wearing a salmon colored pin up style swim suit. I feel like I’m channeling Marilyn Monroe. My golden blonde hair is loose, wild and wavy. It’s being blown about by a gentle breeze. I have SPF 15 on my Sally tat, because I don’t want her to fade. I’ll put SPF 8 all over the rest of me after a swim. Or maybe after I go down the water slide a few times. My Caribbean blue eyes are protected by sunglasses that look like Jackie O’s. Big and round, cute. They are the color of a strawberry Jolly Rancher. I wish they tasted like one. I’d eat them.

Of course I have a note pad and a pen. The color of the ink is purple. I have a copy of the book, The Stand. I read it every summer. I have my Ariel towel. Because, well, I’m a princess. Full water bottle of course. There’s not much to do today, but enjoy the beautimous day. Hey, I know it’s not a word. I make them up to suit me. I’m kinda quirky that way.

There’s about 20 people here. Laying out, reading, swimming, soaking up the sun. One woman is reading Fifty Shades of Gray. I find it funny, and I chuckle out loud. Don’t ask me why it tickles me, but it does. I then notice an old creeper dude staring at me. He’s wearing sunglasses so he thinks I can’t see him ogling me. He’s so damn obvious about it. I want to run over to him and scream in his face to stop fucking looking at me! Just fucking stop it! I take my strawberry colored sunglasses off and stare directly at him. He gets the message, and turns away. I’m not used to be stared at, and I don’t like it.

My skin is getting warm and a little pink. My summer freckles are coming out on my nose and forehead. I think it’s time for a quick dip in the pool. Wish you were here though, I could use some help with applying sunscreen to my back.

Oh, I did go down the water slide. Ten times. Because I really AM 12 years old.