Fuck the Emptiness That Holds Over You!!!!

F U

Happy ‘Fucking’ Thursday my friends. May it be a good one.

Love, Sparkly Nee

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100 Word Song-Deep As You Go

We find two lovers embroiled in a heated discussion. I’m not sure of the circumstances that brought them here, but the words came to me. I was in the shower when the woman began screaming, tell her the truth! I’m learning that there are so many degrees of love. So many ways to turn your back on happiness. When we fall, we fall hard. And every time we do, it’s more difficult to get back up. We must though. We must get up, and brush the dust from our hearts. Remove the shards of glass too. Sweep them into a pile and discard them. Hopefully the next time we love, it will be forever.

Thank you Lance Burson from My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog for hosting the 100 Word Song story prompt.

(He… She…)

I miss you so much.

If you did, you’d tell her the truth.

I can’t, you know that.

I know nothing, but what is between you and me. Tell her that you love me.

I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life.

Do you believe in the strength of that love?

Yes.

Then tell her the truth. I am not the reason you faltered, I was merely the catalyst.

What would you have me do?

Tell her that you love me. Own what you feel. Don’t lose me, don’t leave me. Please, don’t let me drown.

 

Robot-Badge

She and Her Subject

“A picture is a secret about a secret, the more it tells you the less you know.” ― Diane Arbus

She looks through the viewfinder at her subject.

What’s in her mind we’ll never know.

She sees beauty where we see monstrosity.

She sees happiness where we see torment.

She looks through her viewfinder at her subject.

What’s in her heart we’ll never know.

She sees life where we see mortality.

She sees freedom where we see shackles.

She looks through the viewfinder at her subject.

What’s in her soul we will never know.

This is her art.

Her passion.

Her life.

With a press of a button.

And click of a shutter.

The secret is captured.

The photograph is a sight to behold.

For when we gaze upon it, she has made sure that we are transformed.

Forever.

Sparks of Madness

Madness.
Proud of it.
Thrive on it.
Live and love it.
Want more.
Need it.
To realize my passion.
To be me.
It’s my spark.
My genius.
My freedom.
I’m free in my Madness.
So free.
My words help me harness it.
Reign it in.
Revel in it.
I love my Madness.
Others see me as crazy.
I find comfort in that fact.
Let them think it.
For I know the truth.
It’s my Madness that gives me my spark; my passion.
I will continue to grow while they spoil.

I’m Not Sure Where I End and She Begins

Meggie said, “Momma, you’re cray cray.”

I told her, “I know that baby girl, but you are just like me, so watch what you say.”

She smiled and said, “I’m glad I’m like you.”

It’s eerie how alike Meggie and I are. She used to loathe it when friends and family would tell her that. Now she embraces it.

Friday, I got the joy of spending  24 hours with her. We took a road trip to Lansing/Charlotte for  Cato, her Husky pup to compete in his first dog show. We turned on Pandora Radio and sang the whole way there. Sara Barielles radio first and then Garth Brooks’ radio. The first lines of Gravity came on:

Something always brings me back to you.
It never takes too long.
No matter what I say or do I’ll still feel you here ’til the moment I’m gone.

Meg and I sing it together while we’re driving down I-96 in the rain. We’re feeding Cato pieces of Twizzlers strawberry licorice. I don’t know why, but the song by Sara Barielles always makes me cry. Meggie tells me I’m a sap, and then we harmonized for the rest of the song. I love singing with her. I miss her, but we get along so much better now that we don’t live together anymore.

She switches to Garth radio and I’m transported back in time to when she was young. Whenever we were on a road trip, didn’t matter the length of time or distance, we always played a Garth cd. The song Unanswered Prayers comes on and she says it reminds her of Daddy. I tell her it does me too, and then I tell her about the time he and I sang it at some bar on karaoke night. She laughed.

Sometimes I thank God, for unanswered prayers
Remember when you’re talkin’ to the man upstairs
That just because he doesn’t answer doesn’t mean he don’t care
Some of God’s greatest gifts, are unanswered prayers.

We talked about life. About her upcoming wedding, school, and work. She also told me that she didn’t want to hear about my writing all the time. She knew it made me happy, that I was good at it, that it was my passion, but it got annoying to hear about it all the time. I said, excuse me? You’re the one that has to tell me all about the stupid raw food diet that you give your dogs. And you have to tell me about how smart your dogs are. And the fact that you’re going to learn everything there is about showing Cato because you want him to be a champion. That’s the thing about us, when we’re passionate about something, we talk about it incessantly. It annoys the fuck out of everyone around us. But we really don’t care.

We grabbed food at the Cracker Barrel before heading to our hotel. We figured what the hell, we might as well eat good food that was bad for us. Take out of course because of Cato Potato. We couldn’t leave him in the car. Meg was like a worried momma, she had to keep looking out the window of the restaurant to make sure he was okay. We had fun shopping while waiting for our food to be prepared. Finally with the food packaged up and paid for we headed to the car. I said look Cato is sitting there being a good boy. As I opened the car door I realized why Cato was being so good. He had opened the bucket of Twizzlers and was chowing down. Meg and I laughed hysterically. It was so fun to be with my girl and laugh about her silly dog.

We didn’t get much sleep because Cato was anxious and wouldn’t settle down. Me being the good momma, got out of bed and took him outside every half hour while Meggie slept. He finally settled and cuddled up with me on my bed. I got about four hours of sleep but figured I’d sleep when I’m dead. It was a big day for Meg and Cato.

She and I got ready without killing each other. It was nothing like when she was a teenager. It’s a wonder we didn’t beat the shit out of each other when she was a kid.

All in all we had a great day. Cato did well and I got to see Megan feeding her passion. She did great and so did he. A friend of mine from high school is mentoring her and teaching everything she knows about showing dogs. I hadn’t seen Linda in 28 years. It was good to reconnect and see her interacting so well with Megan. Linda treated Meg like a daughter. That made me so very proud.

Meg told me thank you for all the help and that she loved me. Said it was so great to spend time with me. She missed her “Mommy” time because now she’s so damn busy. We loaded up the car and the exhausted Cato dog and headed home. We turned on Pandora and listened to Garth radio again. Sang songs all the way home and then laughed our asses off when I picked up my ice tea and proceeded to spill then entire cup into my purse. I spilled it on my pants too. She looked at me, laughed and said I look like peed on myself. I was laughing so hard I told her I might have, but I couldn’t be sure because of all the fucking ice tea everywhere.

Cato slept the whole way back to Livonia, Meggie and I sang and talked. She told me to stop drinking so much coffee because it was going to give me wrinkles, and that I had to re-hydrate my skin every day. I told her to shut the fuck up. She then got on Google found an article about it and gave me hell. I told her I would only drink 40 oz. of coffee a day instead of 80 oz. She just shook her head at me and told me to wear moisturizer. The she said, Mom you’re beautiful and you have no wrinkles, you want to stay wrinkle free for as long as you can. I looked at her and asked, how the hell did you get so smart? She said, Google Mom. Google is Goodle. I told her she was a dork.

We got back to Livonia in record time. Unpacked, hugged, kissed and said our goodbyes. Had to give hugs and kisses to Cato and Delilah the Wonder Huskies too.

After I dropped her off and headed back to Tecumseh I realized that she was one of the best things I’d ever done in my life. I thought back to the day she was born and was laid on my stomach. I was scared to death of what kind of mother I would be, but by God I was going to do my very best to love and raise her up right. I remember the feel of her in my arms that first time I held her. I remember Roger Darling carrying her around the delivery room and calling her his little girl. And then I snapped back to the present and realized that I got my wish. That I did raise her up right. That she may be quite a bit like me but she ultimately is her own woman.

Practical Magic or Practical Love, What Can We Do to Fill That Hole Inside of Us?

“Sometimes I feel like there’s a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn. I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean. The moon tonight, there’s a circle around it. Sign of trouble not far behind. I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing… I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen. I don’t know. Maybe I had my happiness. I don’t want to believe it but, there is no man, Gilly. Only that moon.“-Practical Magic

It has been so long since I’ve seen this movie, but this quote moved me to tears this morning. I know I have love, but I still feel this void inside of me. Every day. Why? I have no idea. But I wish there was some way for me to fill it. Maybe that’s why I write. Who knows. Maybe that’s why I share with you the emptiness I feel in my soul. Today, I shared it with my friend, someone I haven’t seen in 30 years. But it felt normal to share it with her. I have no idea why.  I just did. As I talked to my friend, I’ll call her the Singing Siren. I was reminded that we all have this hole in us. We want to fill it. I asked her, why do we have this hole that needs to be filled?

I mean we love, we are loved, we have children, and we lead full lives. For some reason, we want more. We women, who have made it to this stage in our lives crave more. We are NOT our mothers. We are not content to sit back and grow old. I am sure  it’s why I write. I still burn. I may be almost at middle age but I still burn. I write because I am not dead yet. I will not die. And when I do, you will remember me. My words, my passion, my life written on these pages will make you remember me. It will also make you remember the stories that I’ve told and the people that I’ve made you meet. I told Rory today that I will not go silently into that good night. I will go out kicking and screaming. Fighting ever damn step of the way.

I told the Singing Siren’s friend, that we all have that hole. No matter how fulfilled we are, we all have it in us. It could be from a lost love, a great what if, or a life wasted. We all have that hole we are trying to fill. I told her to find a passion, and fill it up. But who am I? I’m just a girl with a big mouth that likes to talk a lot. What advice I give really has no bearing on anyone that I come in contact with.

My friend, the Raven Haired Angel, gave a sad status update today. It was: I used to be so positive about life and encouraged others. My life was awesome. I have a wonderful husband who puts up with the crazy and psycotic depending which day it is. I have great friends, wonderful children, great employers, and cuddle pups. So why is it I can still encourage others while I’m drowning in myself? I am so blessed and so thankful, and yet feel stupid and unworthy and incapable of anything! I awake crying for no reason, I hurt from head to toe, I stumble,I forget , I’m hot, I’m cold, and I can’t open a damn jar anymore! If this is midlife it sucks!!!!!

I told the Raven Haired Angel that a good friend gave me the subject to write about today. All from a simple quote from a sweet, sad movie called, Practical Magic. I told her she was beautiful, that she’s still viable. That she is loved and lovely. That the crazy and the psychotic we feel is normal. We’re normal. It’s okay to feel the way we feel. It makes us yearn to be more, and to do more. It means that we are not about to be complacent. I told her do NOT become so. I told her to find a passion and pursue it. I signed off telling her that I had much love to give her and if at anytime she needed to be told how normal and necessary she was, she could call me.

I’m still trying to find a way to fill that hole in me. I feel I do every day I write. Every post I make. It fills my hole and makes me whole. Makes me better. Makes my friends, readers, and followers better. It makes me realize we are not alone. We are not. And here, here we find a way to become better. To find that Practical Magic, and that Practical Love.

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!

To write is to live, to live is to write

I live to write. To put pen to paper and make the words come alive. To make you feel my stories with such intensity they make you weep, hope, hate, love, feel. Everything. If I die right now, thats okay. To die with my pen painting a vivid story would be the only way to go. It has not been easy these last few weeks. The pain in the left side of my body has been intense. There’s weakness, aches, creaking and cracking. The nerves in my back and arm are inflamed and pinched. It angers me to be weak. This girl wants to write, run, and swing a hammer. I can’t do anything because my body is rebelling. I’m angry because I feel old. I don’t want to be old. I fear it. The slowing down. The wrinkling. The withering of the mind and body. I do not want it!!! And yet I know it is inevitable. I always thought I’d live fast and die young. Turns out I’m a middle aged writer wannabe. But then I guess it’s always better than the alternative. Death.