Writing Prompt #1

On May 16, 2021 By hopelessstargazzerIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Write a paragraph that starts with a color and ends with a sound, or vice versa.

Red. The color of passion. It ignites everything it touches. From the sky that encompasses the world to the water that erodes the earth away. Red brings life to those who wear it and death to those who abuse it. It is strong enough to be picked out of a crowd, yet quiet enough to get lost in the moment. In the end, it doesn’t matter how it looks. It only matter on how it feels. Red ends like all great colors end. Together in the silence of the night. Not a murmur to its name. Just a hush.

You have a paragraph of your own? Link me!!! I would love to read your prompt!!! 🙂 Until next we meet… may your days be full of joy and your nights nothing but rest. You are love and you are loved. Be well.

Stories of Childhoods long past~1

On July 25, 2019 By hopelessstargazzerIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

So, I’m writing this book and need to do some warm up writing exercises. You know. To get the brain working. So instead of a word vomit, I’m trying something different. A story. Come along!

This is a tale of a boy. A boy in a rural town. Now, this particular story is not how the boy was abandoned by his mother at a young age or the rough childhood he had growing up. No, this tale it about a boy free from beatings and terrorizing cousins. This tale starts after he turned 13, but before he was a man.

This boy was out on his Step-Father’s farm with his trusty farm dog, Buck the Wonder Dog. This dog was infamous in the county for reasons that do not pertain to this particular tale. But few things he was famous for was the following: being a hunter, a chaser and a fighter. The dog, though small in stature, could jump a six foot fence no problem. He was Buck: The Wonder Dog! And he was mighty.

Now, back to the boy. He was out in the field with Buck, fixing a tractor when he heard barking. That in of itself was not unusual. It was the duration of the manic barking that concern the lad. So, he wanders over to the tree stump Buck was preoccupied with. The tiny blue heeler was jumping all around the ancient wood, looking for something. So the boy, naturally curious, looks into the hole that was there. He couldn’t see anything, but he knew that there was something there. After all, Buck wouldn’t stop barking.

So the boy did what he considered was the next logical step to asserning what was in the tree. He reached in the dark, damp, rotten hole with his bare hand. Much to his astonishment, something bit him! The boy was very upset that a mysterious critter had the audacity to bite his hand. He was going to teach it a lesson.

To the surprise and horror of the boy, whatever was hiding deep within the trunk of the tree did indeed bite him and bit so hard that it punctured the work gloves he had put on. The boy, with a shout loud enough to startled Buck, pulled his arm forth from the mouth of the wooden creature to reveal his advorsary and criminal of bites…. a woodchuck.

This critter was longer than his forearm and stronger than anything he had wrestled with before. The sharp teeth pierced the tender spot between thumb and forefinger deeply. He attempted to swing the beastie off his hand, but the rodent refused to let go. Whether it was due to the boy disturbing it’s home and wishing to punish him, or because Buck was excitedly jumping up and around with snapping jaws, the woodchuck would not let go.

The boy, frustrated and flustered, tried to get the dog to calm down long enough pry the jaws off his hand. Yet, Buck refused to be placated. He had other ideas. Using his tiny legs, he used his human companion as a springboard and only let up once the boy began to threaten to strike him.

Finally, the boy was able to swing his arm hard enough to dislodge the rodent from his hand. The massive woodchuck flew up into the air like a firework. Underneath it danced the one and only Buck. Shimming to the left. Then shuffling to the right. Only to return to the left just to get the perfect angle on the flying quarry. The boy stood to the side, mesmerized at the show before him.

Much too soon for the woodchuck and not soon enough for the dog, the rodent hit the highest point in it’s arc. Then time stood still for the boy. He watch in horrid fascination as the animal began its descent to earth just as Buck leapt up into the air. As the boy would later describe to his daughters in the future, the sound from the two animals colliding in the air was akin to screeching tires on the freeway. Then Buck dropped harder than a meteor strike as he reaffirmed that he was a born hunter.

From here, you can use your imagination. As long as it ends in one satisfied dog, a dead rodent, and a boy who learned a valuable lesson on the farm. Don’t stick your arm down random holes, no matter how much your dog barks at it. Nothing good will come from it.

if you made this far, allow me to tell you that this is a true story from my father’s childhood. it never fails to make me laugh when he tells it.

Word Vomit #3

On July 24, 2019 By hopelessstargazzerIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Been way too long. Really need to get back into this thing. Okay, so what’s on my mind today? Well, it’s July?

Gosh that’s horrible. Okay. Okay. Let’s try again. /deep breath in\ What’s on my mind? ….

Yep, nothing much. But isn’t that how it goes? You have this grandiose idea about how things should be and how they should land and you come up with nothing. The shoulds and woulds and coulds plague your mind in a thousand ways, more than even media could possible plague it. But there you are. Sitting on your bed, staring at the wall or ceiling or window and have thousands of images of what you should be, or would be, if XYZ didn’t happen.

And you know what? In the end, that means less than nothing. All those what ifs. All those I shoulds. All those I have toos. They all equal to nothing.

I guess that’s not quite right either. They don’t equal to nothing. What they can equal too is a great number of negatives. Low self-esteem. High anxiety. Massive amount of depression. Lack of confidence.

But, if you sit to think about that, even that equal to nothing. Hear me out. In order to have any of those problems, you have to have standards. Standards that you are not meeting. These standards, whatever they may be, are higher than what you believe that you can achieve. But! BUT! You have met them before. You have looked in a mirror and been proud of what you saw. The reason you don’t like what you see anymore is because it is no longer the same thing you saw before. You must have been thin, or smart, or witty, or plump, or talented, or….ect. ect.

Sit there and argue, but you know what I type is right. You might think, “but I’ve never been XYZ.” Ah! That is the standard I am speaking of. We could go thru them all, but I’m tired and want a nap, so let’s move this thought train on. Unless your doctor is concerned for you life and you refuse to help yourself/your body out by doing what is nessecary to move, you are not too fat. Unless you epically fail at breathing and walking at the same time and have to remind you eyes to blink, you are not stupid. Unless you have never crack a smile in your life, you are witty/funny. So on and so forth.

If you find yourself in the mirror downgrading yourself, face that demon. Look that demon in the eye and see what that demon sees. Then point out something different. Do you like your eyes? I think that human eyes are the prettiest things I have ever seen. They sparkle more than stars in the sky. They shine brighter than the sun. They have more diverse colors than all the shades on the earth. They express themselves better than words. I can promise you that your eyes are stunning. They are beautiful. They are worthy.

They are worth to see and be seen. They shine with a light that is so unique and special it takes a breath away. Do you like your eyes? Because I do.

Focus on that. Focus on the beauty that is your gaze. If you don’t like your eyes (my heart breaks, but I understand), then do you like your smile? Your laugh? Your hearing? Your feelings (this one is hard to do)? How about the sensation of touch? Taste? Sleep? Dreams? Friends? Family? Sunlight? Darkness? Cool air? Warm air? Blankets? Fans?

Find that one thing. One thing is all you need. And that one thing fills that void. It will fill what depression, anxiety, and fear take from you. Let it become your new standard of beauty. Of faith. Of hope.

Yep, and if that won’t do it for you, try a goal. It doesn’t have to be a goal of “saving all the dying kittens in the world!” Which sounds exhausting if I’m going to be perfectly honest. But it could be, smile at least once today. Take a shower. Touch something soft. Little things

The more little things you do and praise yourself for, the better. Did you replace the toilet roll right away? You did great! You pick up your clothes on the ground and put them in the washer? Fantastic! You went on a walk with your family dog? Be proud of that!

A thousand little things mean more than one great big thing. So you didn’t find the cure for cancer? Whatever, you took your medicine. You aren’t making over $50,000 a year like everyone else in your family? Can you afford a $2 burger every now and then? That’s good.

We made never change the entire world. But we can change OUR entire world by one little thing. A shower. A walk. A smile. A joke. That is all it take to change nothingness into somethingness.

And that something is worth thinking about. So, what’s on your mind today? Nothingness? Or did you find a little thing to fill the void for a moment in time?

Poem

On July 24, 2019 By hopelessstargazzerIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

So, I wrote this poem because of a prompt I read online. Enjoy! 🙂

Friends that go boo in the night

On July 24, 2019 By hopelessstargazzerIn TheresaLeave a comment

Original story by me inspired by a prompt I found online. Enjoy! 🙂

I honestly couldn’t say when it started. I think Volf was the first to walk into my bar. There was only myself and a buddy in the room when he asked for a drink. I do recall my human friend pissing his pants at the sight of a werewolf asking for a gin and tonic. I just chuckled. After that night, more and more night-stalkers wandered in. I developed a reputation in the community for my laid-back attitude toward non-humans. What they didn’t seem to realize is that I just didn’t care what they were. I had seen the worst of life in the war and when humanity is drunk off their asses. Monsters and demons aren’t so scary after those kind of reality checks.

Besides, they are all a bunch of soft-hearted romantics once you get to know them. And busy know-it-alls with their damnable noses in everything to boot. But their caring attitudes is the real reason I even landed my wife.

She was completely out of my league being the owner of Halo-For-Days fashion empire and a descendant of Archangel Gabriel. I knew there wasn’t even a chance in hell that I could ever catch her eye. I was just a lowly human that ran a bar for thugs and veterans. There was no way on God’s green earth that I was good enough for an angel. But my boys wouldn’t take no for an answer. They had all schemed one night to get the woman of my dreams. No matter what they say, I still think it was just a ploy to get free booze out of me.

So, Carl, the demi-demon, cornered her one night outside my bar on her way home under the pretense of being the “big bad wolf.” I could have killed the man at the time. Being oblivious to their plans, I had no idea why the normally gentle giant was snarling right outside my door. God almighty, he was making such a racket. The poor brownies were quacking in their boots thinking the snarling was legitimate. It was clearer than day that he was just huffing and puffing, but it still sounded like the gates of hell were being ripped open.

I remember her beautiful face when I came out, cussing his name to his mother and back as I threw an empty bottle at his head. Or at least, where I thought his head should have been. The green glass shattered on the wall above his head. I stared at my friend curled up on the ground in front of the angel. I honestly couldn’t tell you who was more surprised. Me, who was stunned by the vision the demon completely black and blue from getting smacked around by a designer’s purse curled up on the ground, or my-wife-to-be sporting a beautifully shocked face, as I laughed my ass off at my friend’s misery. Eventually, I moved to pick his sorry self of the ground. Once he limped inside, I recall flashing my pearly whites as I offered her a drink to ease the torment my buddy caused her.

Her stunned expression was completely endearing, but I was spared from the butterflies that attempted to escape my mouth when she took me up on the offer. She came in with her designer dress and fit right in. I officially fell in love with her when she made a snarky remark about getting a doctor for Carl because he HAD to be mentally impaired if a demon thought he stood a chance against an angel. Throughout the night, she teased the guys, laughed with the harpies, and bested the leprechauns at drinking. After that night, I figured I would never see her again, but the next night she rolled in only to become a regular. Then she surprised the living hell out of me a few weeks later when she proposed me. The boys were whooping for joy as she dropped that ring in my tip jar with the naughtiest smirk ever to grace an angel’s face. Carl had to strut around the bar for a month after our ceremony, stupidly proud of himself for setting us up. I thank the heavens that Audre only thought he was cute.

Every once in a while in the ten years of our marriage, she’ll tease me saying the only reason she married me was because I had to be an impressive human to keep vampires and warlocks in line after jello-shots.

But I digress, like I said before, the monsters that visit my bar aren’t all that bad. Even the humans learned to like them after finding out they shared something in common. The love of sports. No matter what your pedigree is, there is just something cathartic about watching a MMA fight after a hell of a week. On this particular night, an Orc was battling against the reigning champion, “The Troll Crusher.” (who is an actually troll if you didn’t get the hint from the oh so subtle name) The boys were all wandering in from the cool October night, eagerly talking about bets and odds. I was wiping the bar down as usual when my back pocket started to buzz. Frowning, I pulled out my phone to see my wife’s beautiful picture on it.

“Ooh!” cawed Traymore, the resident fire dragon, “wifey missing you already?” The room chuckled as I flipped the ass off.

“Hello, love of my life! What’s up?” I grinned. Carl whistled at me and I threw his beer at him.

“They took them,” came a strangled choke from the other end. Her voice was so strained it didn’t sound like my laughing angel. “I wasn’t here to stop them. Oh, Kai, what are we going to do? What if we can’t find them? What if they kill them? Kai…”

I grabbed the sink in front of me. “Audre, calm down, baby. Who took who? What’s going on?”

“The girls. The girls were kidnapped.” She sobbed. My world shattered. I couldn’t hear anything but my wife’s story of how one of her competitors got angry at the successful of her current line was at the last show in France and how he swore vengeance with a passion. I fell to my knees as she described what her parents’ flat looked like when she went to pick up my girls to spend time with them this weekend. I felt hands pull me up as she sobbed about the state of my perfect angels’ room, the bruises on her parents’ faces, and the fear she could taste in the air. My back was hit when I forgot how to breathe after she told me the cops had no idea who took them and refused to go after the all powerful Jacques who had threaten this because they didn’t have “proof”. My vision went dark as tears poured down my face while my beautiful and strong wife broke over the phone. I was proud that my voice stayed steady as I calmed my wife down. I told her to stay inside, do as the police said, and that I was coming home. She hung up on a hiccup.

I tried to standed up. However, my knees had a different idea. I fell forward and expect to hit my nasty floor. Instead, I landed on someone’s shoulder. It registered that it was Sean’s, the resident kelpie, body that caught me. I stared unseeing for a moment before I pushed off.

“Kai, what happen bro?”

I looked into the black pits that Zack called eyes. Then I looked around the room. My friends…no, my brothers and sisters looked back at me with such gentle concern. The match forgotten. The drinks were all but thrown to the floor. Every race in this pathetic world surrounded me with strength. In that strength, I found my voice.

“Some assholes took my babies.”

The room went dead. Everyone, from the brownies on the table to the harpies in my rafters stared at me.

“Audre thinks it was Jacques Heathervien, her rival. The cops won’t do anything. I need to go home to be with her.”

A hand hit my back. I looked up at Froyo, my Sasquatch friend. He smiled down at me.

“Go home, my friend. I’ll lock up for ya.” Murmurs went around the bar in that sounded like they all agreed with him. I softly punched him in the arm.

“Don’t go drinking all my vodka, you jerk. You still owe me for the last time.” He chuckled at my poor attempt at humor.

“Go, we’ll handle it all.”

“We?” I asked, not really caring but noticing his odd choice of words.

“Just go home. Audre needs you right now.”

I nodded and stumbled to my car. The drive home was a blur. Cops surround our little suburban home. I stumbled into the door only to hold my sobbing wife to my chest. I carried her to the loveseat and answered every question the officers asked. I stoically looked at the Orc before me as he explained for the upteenth time why he couldn’t go after the damnable shapeshifter that took my reasons for breathing away. I know I was intimidating him. He had heard about my establishment and who I serve. He KNEW I was not going to take this bullshit for much longer.

But my priority was my wife and her comfort. So I sat there, wanting to deck the lights out of the officer in front of me, rubbing her back. After a few wasted hours, they finally left. Audre was sleeping on the couch with her head in my lap. I ran my fingers threw her curly blonde hair as I nursed my glass of whiskey. The ceiling was dancing with shadows. My mind turned with images of nightmare my little ones were going through. The glass creaked as my hand tightened. A soft moan escaped my love’s mouth which forced me to relax. A heavy sigh came out of me.

Then a light flashed through our bay windows. I squinted at the intrusion. Tinkling laughter of the highest quality seeped into my soul causing me to shout. Audre blinked up at me, but froze when she heard it too. We shot off the couch and into the yard.

“Careful, my man,” Carl laughed, “you’ll have to replace the sheetrock there behind the poor door after that stunt.”

I ignored him as I swung my baby girl into the air with a cry of joy. My babies were home and safe. Audre had Elizabeth in a death grip as the two cried. I cuddled my little princess as I stared at the five men who stood in the yard. Words were beyond me as Anastasia clung to my neck giggling as my stubble tickled her nose. All I could do was nodded to each of them.

Carl, Traymore, Zack, Volf and Froyo nodded back to me in understanding. They headed to the truck that was parked on the street. I saw one of the regulars in the driver’s seat wave at me. I knew she was a succubus, but she didn’t cause trouble so I let her drink at my place. I nodded my thanks to her as well.

I watched my friends drive away with the warmth of gratefulness. I herded my precious girls inside and thanked every diety I ever heard about for friends of the night.

The next morning, I was watching the news as my girls gave each other manicures while I made breakfast. I wasn’t really paying attention until the asshole’s name came up. The anchor-woman was calmly explaining that the famed Jacques Heathervien was found dead in his condo in Paris. She was describing the desecration to his body and home as if it was a simple horror movie scene. My lips curled upwards as pictures with horribly blurred blood stains flicked on and off the screen. Whatever had killed him had done a messy job and made sure he was in the most pain of his life.

I reached for my phone as she continued to explain that Mr. Heathervien had criminal evidence that linked him to some terrorist groups in the LA area in his residence. As the lovely anchor continued to make my day better and better with detailed descriptions of known terrorist leaders and other member’s heads being strung up like christmas lights in downtown with nasty little warnings not to touch innocent babes, I read all the notifications from Twitter.

Amazing fight last night. Pity the outcome was predictable. ~Carl~

Nothing like a coward’s blood and piss to make a night memorable. ~Zack~

Ya’ll lost that bet. Time to pay the piper. He only lasted five minutes. ~Traymore~

Tell the angels that no monster will ever be as scary as their big brothers from daddy’s work. ~Volf~

Kai, you are never alone. Remember that. ~Froyo~

The posts on my feed choked me up. There were hundreds after that. All equally cryptic to the casual reader, but clear as day to me. Roses waifed up to my nose as Audre curled up under my arm.

“The girls are cleaning up. I just don’t understand, Kai. How did the boys-” she fell off as she watched the news. We were silent for some time. Then she read her notifications.

“Why do I feel like they are NOT talking about the fight that was streaming last night?”

I shrugged and laughed at a particularly good jap at wimpy fashion kings and their lack of night-stalker status.

“They do know they could go to jail for this if they are caught.”

I grunted. Texting the boys, I told them first round was on me.

“They really do love us, don’t they.” She whispered. I smiled down at her.

“Yeah, too bad they’re still asshole and fuckers.”

Proud of myself!

On March 8, 2019 By hopelessstargazzerIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Hahahahahahahaha! I am so proud of myself! Finally, I have completed the first draft of what I would consider a novel. As of yesterday, 3/7/19 I did what I wanted to do for the new year! I completed my novel! Is it still rough? Of course. Do I still want to polish it? Yes. But I did it! I wrote something that was other than a short story with a dynamic plot that has to span to another novel.

I know that if someone comes across this will have no clue why I’m so excited. So let me just briefly explain. I was never really encouraged to write. It was the one thing that I struggled with as a child. Everything I brought to the table was dissected and scrutinized until writing was never a joy for me. Yet, there was this drive to read and created. I could never really hold it in. So I wrote little blurbs of scenes floating inside my head and most of them had full length stories burning in my head, but I never felt motivated to write them.

Well, until about two years ago. While I was a courier, I had a ton of down time inside the van driving for eight to ten hours every day. Soooooo…. I had way too much thinking time and these worlds that I had created screamed to the surface demanding attention. They got so loud that finally I bought a notebook and started to write them down. Of course, it couldn’t had been content to fill up two notebooks, but it wanted to be typed as well. I was reluctant and slow, but it just burned.

It continued to nag at me until I stumbled across someone on Tumblr. I really admire how this woman portrayed characters as real life people and respected the growth of relationships so much. When I read that she had lost her greatest fan, her mother, to a sudden accident, I grabbed my social anxiety by the reigns and reached out to her. She was/is so warm and friendly that I became even more in awe of her. She inspired me to continue on something that I had no encouragement to complete. And today I did it!

Of course, there is another that is brewing in my mind and the companion to this story is cooking somewhere deep in my consciousness. But I think that is going to be my life now. With this achievement, I beginning to feel like that creative writing is okay to delve into, even when you aren’t too hot at it.

About me #2 (work)

On December 11, 2018 By hopelessstargazzerIn TheresaLeave a comment

So this is a little background about my work experience. Just so that when I start writing my stories down, other can have some context.

I began my working career young. I started out in my karate dojo as an assistant teacher at the tender age of 13. By the time I was 19, I was the lead instructor for three different belt levels all ranging in ages from 4yrs old to 73 yrs old.

In my twenties, I worked for Dollar Tree. Within a year, I was promoted to assistant manager and then to Store Manager. The had four years of my life.

The next place I landed was for Barnes and Noble. I might have only worked for them for a year, but in that year I became Lead Cashier and one of the lead trainers for the store. When they closed their location, I had to move on.

The next place I landed was a courier for a small company. I got the job because one of students in my volunteer programs father was the hiring manager. Once again, I was only with them for a year, but I became a lead trainer once more and the first shift supervisor.

We come to the current job. I work as a teller for a small community bank. I have only been with them for a year, but I am active where I can. I was the leader for our branch for a massive fundraiser and decorate the office. It’s nice to have little things to work on in a relatively stress-free environment.

Now, the real activity comes from my volunteering adventures. I was and am an active member of my church. I teach karate, religious education, serve mass on Sundays, sing in the choir, and thousand of little things. Needless to say, I have a full life.

Word Vomit #2

On December 11, 2018 By hopelessstargazzerIn TheresaLeave a comment

Warning! This particular word vomit took a darker turn than intended, but I will keep it. There are hints of suicidal thoughts from the past and how I overcame them. Please, if these ideas scare you or could harm you in any way, do not read. Though it was a subtle nod to the past, it is still there. Most of this word rant is positive, but I wanted to let you know that it is there.

Let’s see… where to begin? Do you know what ADHD is? Like really know what it is? Do you know the painful joy of just letting your mind wander around in strange patterns, bringing up images and thoughts that would never have accord to “normal” brains? Do you realize it is a constant trip inside? Sometimes you just want to sit back, grab a cup of joe, and just go along with the ride.

One such example is when I’m teaching. Now, allow me to explain. I’m not a classroom teacher. Nor would you classify me as a traditional teacher. What I teach is martial arts. I have been teaching my style of karate for over ten years. I would say I’m good at it. I can get the kids excited for exercise and keep discipline fair and equal across the board. HOWEVER, I would not say I’m the most organized teacher I’ve ever met in the practice.

I’m all over the place, running around the room, talking fast, and overall cannot keep a coherent thought in my mind. I get the designated task done in the time frame, but the way to it is a journey. The entire time I’m explaining foot position, my mind is off in la la land thinking about grass, lawns, houses, food, or how trains work. There is always a logical pathway, but the problem is you don’t have time to look at the thought before another comes into its place. It’s like having a toddler having control over the remote to the TV. The second you think “oh its a crime show” the next thing you know you’re watching the Care Bears, then the news, then Lady Gaga, then movie trailers, and so on and so on.

And God forbid you actually open your mouth while this train wreck in your head is happening! You have no control over what comes out. Just last week I was working with my kids on control and the next thing I know, I’m explaining why pineapples make your tongue tingle. I mean, they learned about the human anatomy, but what the human tongue and immune system have anything to do with kicking people in the groin, I have no idea. The best part was that it wasn’t even a smooth transition. It went from “kick, kick, kick, did you know….?” I confused the living hell out of my kids and myself in one fatal swoop.

And you know what…that’s okay. This is me and it’s okay. Sure, I could take something that would make me able to focus, but it would take away the very thing I like about myself. I love that I spontaneously decide to do something and I do it. I love that my mind wanders around until it finds a gem of an idea and holds it close to it’s center. Some of the gems are nothing more than annoying rocks, but those cracked and broken rock are mine. They are what make me unique.

It is because of that wandering hobbit of a brain of mine that I can empathize with my students. I can say, “I get it, being shy is rough. Speaking loud is hard. I swear to you I get it. But together, we can discover that loud voice in you waiting to be let out.”

It was this mental funk that I went through hell and back as a kid. Shit was real for me as teachers ignored me, children I considered friends shunned me in school but loved me outside of classroom, and I struggled with work. It is because of this wandering head that every day was a fight and a struggle. I had and still have to fight myself. It is an everyday battle of wits to get me to sit in a chair and focus on a single task. Yet, I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Do I wish some things were different? Of course. Do I wish I had found someone to accept me for me before I was almost in my twenties? Do I wish I had a mentor that actively tried to help me with the worst of my symptoms instead of relying on my mother who struggled with her own physical limitations? Do I wish that I can look in a mirror and truthfully say, “yep, you are doing good!”? You bet your bottom dollar I do!

However, I respond to my sad wandering mind with a follow up question. “How can we change it?”

When I was struggling with the demons my mind had created at a young age, I asked myself this question all the time. And every time, I sent my thoughts forth to discover the truth. Only to return with the voices of those who held me down or hurt me. They only fed the demons dancing on my heart. The pain became so intense for my ten year old self to handle, I held a weapon in my hand to end it all with a bang a few days from Christmas. I was ready to escape to a forever sleep.

Now, whether it was divine intervention or my overactive mind finding a new path, I will never truly know. I chose to think that a couple of my guardian angels band together to shove my lost thoughts onto the path that ultimately saved my life.

What of the future? You cannot change the past, but you can change someone’s future. Your pain will become someone’s strength.

That random thought. That random channel the inner toddler flicked on the brain TV shocked me into dropping my means to a very different end. Because it had a point. A point that I still live by. My past cannot be changed. Your past cannot be changed. How you view your past can change. How you treat your past can change. And your past that is painful, horrible, and frightful WILL change someone’s future.

I know that you meet people that will claim to have a magical pill or a perfect solution to everything. In fact, many will tell you that if you do X Y and Z, you will be okay. I’m not going to lie to you. It won’t.

Their solutions will be for them, my sweets. It will be what works for a general public. Not for everyone. Sure, you can do the basics. Take a shower. Take a walk. Do breathing exercises. All these things are helpful, but it won’t be enough. What you need is that ONE thing for you. Just for you and no one else.

That one thing could be anything. Writing in a journal. Taking a shower. Drawing a picture. Coloring on the wall. Talking to a friend. Making a blog. Doing your nails. Making jokes. Telling jokes. Watching your favorite anime. Playing a video game. Cooking, cleaning, staring at the ceiling. Find one thing.

Do that one thing and allow it to expand. If you like taking a shower, do it! Then experiment with different types of body wash. Smell them. Feel them. Relish them. Don’t try to halt the process. If you want to buy more, then try going to Bath and Body Works and work there. Get the money and relish the thought of having a shower with a new soap. Allow that single thing to grow deep inside your mind. I promise you that it will grow.

We humans want to grow. We want to expand. We want to nourish things we adore. It is in our genes. It is how we survive. It is how I survived. That one thought reminded me that I loved my younger sister more than I love anything in this world. Her future was and is my world. Seeing her grow became my reason to fight the demons. That one smile I loved to see grew into seeing other little ones like her smile. So I went to my dojo to help with children. That feeling grew into my passion for teaching karate to children, no matter who they were or where they came from. It grew and grew until I had started two different karate programs at two different churches that helped hundreds of children and their families with healthy eating and life choices. That piece of advice I received from a single thought lead me to ensure that my pain could help others. It made me come out of my shell and explore life. From that, my spontaneous part of my mind that loved to flitter from topic to topic developed.

And I love it. I can look in a mirror and say “You know when you come up with really random ideas. I love it cause it always makes me and my friends laugh to no end.”

It might not be a fool proof solution. If fact, I know it’s not. There are times when it is a struggle to hold back the demons or tell them to kindly f*** off, but all I need is that one thing. That one reminder that matters to me. And I can do it. I can beat it.

Do you know ADHD? Have you experienced it and all the madness that accompanions it? Well, it’s a little bit like this post. It starts with one thought and divides head long into another completely different topic and ends abruptly.

About me #1

On November 30, 2018 By hopelessstargazzerIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

So, I will try not to be an awkward duck as I delve into what makes me tick. So first thing is first, a name. Theresa. It received this name from my grandmother on my mother’s side. I had the insane honor of knowing her while she was alive. Theresa Morinville was a spitfire of a woman who gave birth to eleven children and ran a farm while her husband held down three other jobs. Though the woman was barely five feet tall, she always felt larger than life. I loved my grandmother beyond all doubt and continue to love her even after she was called back home in 2006.

Now, the name supposedly means “reaper” and “of souls”. So I guess I’m a reaper of souls….I promise I am not that intimidating in real life. Granted, many people have commented that I do care an aura of authority. Perks of walking around with a straight back and your head held up high, I guess. My grandmother was always so keen that her tall grandkids had to have a straight back. I can recall the buries I got whenever she caught me slouching. She would pinch me hard on the butt and hiss “Straight back, girl. Be proud of your height and your beauty!” You always walked away from grandma’s house with a bruise or three. If it wasn’t from her show of love, it was because your cousins dared you to do something stupid.

Word Vomit #1

On November 29, 2018 By hopelessstargazzerIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Have you ever just sat down and vomited whatever came to mind? It’s a cleansing ritual that seems to work for some and not for others, right? But what if it’s doesn’t pan out like you want it too? What if you struggle to get what you’re really feeling across? Then what? What do we do then? Do we hide inside of ourselves until the world explodes and we have nothing more than a trembling mess of nerves and pain? But how is that productive?

So I propose this. To my reader and future self, I’m going to try to weave a tale of adult exploration into her own mind. I’ll try not to be an anxiety-riddled teenager because only God knows how much I don’t miss that time in my life. My word vomit will try to have a purpose or a reason. Whether it is to cleanse the pain in my chest or to carefully plot out my methods, I will have a point to all of this. Or will at least try. That’s what counts right!