Something New

I joined a challenge to write everyday for the month of May. So far, on day 3, I have written once – twice if you count this very moment. During the midst of signing up for the challenge, I was accepted to write for a company called Chanillo . I submitted a query for a novel that’s been brewing in my head for over 5 years. I did not think they would accept it and I was certain I was right after waiting over a month to hear back. I was wrong. Now, I have promised to write a chapter each month, and now my novel, which would have never happened, and seemed more like fun time, is now work.

That’s good, right? I have such anxiety over the entire thing. I have started writing and had written previously for the novel (*for* as if I work for it – haha), so I am trying to organize those thoughts and write my beginning preface.

I am excited to have been accepted. Especially since I do not always think I am any good at writing as a whole. Sometimes I think I am amazing, and sometimes I think I stink. I suppose all writers feel the same way at some point.

So today marks the beginning of something that could be great. I am excited, scared, and might take up drinking copious amounts of wine to cope. (That’s like two drinks a week for me – watch out, I’m a wild one).

If you would like to check out my future endeavor, as I cannot post any writing to my blog related to the novel, you can check it out HERE. It’s upcoming, so I have not posted my first piece yet. I still have some details to work out.

Thank you all so much. This counts as my 10 minutes, right?


Broken Dreams

It’s the adults who ruin it for you. They take your dreams and shatter them. They explode with a force. The shards enter your body to stay with you forever as a constant reminded of what could have been. Imagine what life would have been if your ambitions were nurtured, tended like a precious garden – tilled, weeded, replaced with only the best soil. What a beautiful soul you would have become. Instead you walk around with scars and the painful memories of the broken dreams you carry with you until you dream no more.

Finding A Lost Dream

Today started like any other. I woke, prepared for the day, went to my vehicle, and opened the gate to leave. As I unhooked the chain, my thoughts transcended to that burning, perplexing question, What am I doing? 

I’m going to work. I’m slaving away. I don’t like what I’m doing and I have to change it. I had a vision of waking early, but it wasn’t to pay the man. It was to feed the horses, play with the dog, and write. 

I want to write. Instead, I am focused on making a dollar. I thought about all the excuses I make for not putting pen to paper. I thought of all the famous writers who made time. They made it happen. It wouldn’t just happen for me, I had to make sure it happened for me. 

I’ve had enough of wanting. I had to want it so bad it became a necessity. 

As the day wore on, my mind changed once again. Just because I wasn’t fond of my current job, didn’t mean I had to purposefully make it miserable in order to justify, or rather co-sign, my own bullshit. I had to make my current situation just as wonderful as the thought of my proposed future situation. 

Not only do I have to make changes so I am able to fulfill my dreams of raising a horse, playing with a dog, and writing for a living, I have to make a change within my mind so I don’t sabotage my current situation. 

Who cares if it sucks. And does it really suck? No. No it doesn’t. I just think it does. I make it suck. 

So as I continue to learn and grow, I let today’s revelation transform me. I tell myself to work harder at perusing your dreams. It will never just “fall in your lap”. 

I tell myself to stop making current situations horrible. Even though it isn’t what I want, it’s what I have and I must make the best of it. 

Let this be the year we strive harder, live more, and follow our dreams with the wildest of ambitions combined with a strong desire to see it through because no one knows exactally how to make them true but yourself. 

I’m A Writer. What’s Your Dream? 

If you’ve ever had a dream, you should follow it, no matter how crazy you think it is. 

That sounds corny, doesn’t it. It is – sorta. It may be the corniest statement you ever read. However, all the successful people utter those words consistently. They preach them when ever they can. So why shouldn’t you? 

My life is a serious of tragedies. One more pathetic than the next. 

That has to be the worst statement ever written. However, the ones without a dream in the world, utter this like clockwork everyday. They preach it. The negativity spews like lava from a boiling volcano. 

I progress everyday. Not a moment goes by where I don’t think about what I really want. Every second I wonder how I can achieve my goal. I always have a plan. I always have an option. I even make plans when all is going wrong and my luck is like a butterfly I try to catch with my broken fingers. 

I never stop pondering how, what, when, where, and why. When people ask what I want to be when I grow up, I tell them the same story. 

It’s the things I do in between my time as a person working toward my goal to the person living my dream. Those moments in between help foster the stories I long to tell. They help me grow. So I’ll take whatever experience I can get. In the mean time, I stay driven for my one, true purpose; to become what I’ve always dreamed. 

So what will it be? Will you have a dream or will you ooze negativity? 

The Sacrifice

It’s a sacrifice. The things we commit to. They drain our every being and we keep going, thinking it will all work out in the end – it will all be worth it. When it’s over, we are broken. Our spirits are damaged, possibly beyond repair. We give up the things we love. We put our dreams on hold.

It was foretold to me – one day I would have it all. The best job and my paychecks would take away all my troubles. They lied.

I gave up everything I wanted for them. I cut ties with priorities. I severed my relationships. I did it for them.

I look back on the things I lost and the things I demolished. It wasn’t worth the sacrifice, the drain, or the sanity I desperately need.

It will be over soon. The struggle still continues, but the finale is on its way.

I lost sight of what I really love – family, writing, and art. I would dabble in its pool from time to time, but I would never fully submerse. It saddens me.

I often feel I can have it all, but my one true flaw is not knowing how to juggle everything I want without losing bits and pieces of myself.

So the sacrifice continues, but at a lower speed. I am hoping to repair all the things I destroyed. I don’t have a plan – I rarely do, but I have a slight ounce of determination. It may be all I have. It is a struggle to maintain. It fights me with claws and fangs dripping with doubt.

I write this today not to dig for self-pity, but to release part of the burdens holding me down. This demon that wants to see me perish under my own right. I write this to purge the putrid in my veins. If I am lucky, I will stop smothering my flame and bring it much needed oxygen – for we all have something worth fighting.

We may not find it in the near future, but the future awaits for us to continue our journey.

Look on your life and ask yourself if the sacrifices are worth it. Truly take a personal inventory. If the cons outweigh the pros, take back your life. It is only one life and the time ticks away.

Dream Big

Nobody needs a reminder of what today is. To many of you, it is the dreaded Monday. For me, it is another day of the week where I try to keep busy so I don’t lose what’s left of my escaping sanity, for now.

Until I resume my regular life of complete chaos, I have other things to work on – like my dog’s dwindling behavior.

However, here’s a shot of a decent moment where he browses the dog store in search of the perfect object in which he will destroy. He had his eyes on this bad boy. I chose a much smaller, less messier bone. Sorry, Einstein. But keep dreaming about big bones, stuffed animals with endless amounts of stuffing and squeakers, and your favorite cookies.

Happy Monday, people! Take a cue from my dog and keep your head in the clouds and dream big.


My Pretty Pink Knife


                This piece is an actual  dream I had. Where the story begins, is also where my dream began. My husband did buy me a knife. He said he searched a long time to find me a knife with a pink handle. For some reason, I had this crazy dream about it. So, I thought I would share my dream with everyone. Enjoy.

I knew something was wrong when the two men wouldn’t stop staring at me. Their harsh glares made my heart sink into my stomach, but I just kept walking. I tried not to turn and look to see if they had started following me. However, my head wouldn’t stop looking in their direction. They were looking at me and then they looked at each other. It was clear what their next step was and in no time I started to run. I couldn’t believe that this was happening to me. I searched my surroundings for an exit point. There was nothing. I was in some open space behind a building. It was filled with sand or dirt of some kind. There were no roads or witnesses. I looked behind me while in full sprint and I saw them getting closer. Each had slight smirks on their faces. Both of them knew that they would get a piece of me without much of a fight.

I suddenly fell on the slick dirt. One of the attackers was right behind me. Without really thinking of my next move, I threw the loose dirt in his eyes. This really pissed him off. He had long, bushy hair, with a beard to match. His face was bitter and wrinkly. This made him look old, but if I had to guess, I would say he was only around 40. His friend however, was much younger. He was at least 25 and got very angry when he saw what I did to his friend, who was still digging dirt out of his eyes.

I started kicking and screaming. In my attempts to fight and not really making sense of where I was aiming, I managed to kick up all the dirt around me. It left the men in quite a panic. I must tell you that I knew why they couldn‘t see, but for some reason I could see very well. It was almost like a bubble was surrounding me and I was impervious to the sand, dirt, or any debris. So, I stood up and tried to escape.

The older guy, in his attempt to find me while sifting through the dirt, grabbed my arm, and threw me on the ground. I hit the earth with a hard thud and this caught the attention of the second man. With one arm free, I remembered that I had a knife in my pocket. It was a pretty pink knife given to me by my husband. I’m sure it was meant to open boxes or remove clothing tags, but today I was going to use it to save my life. I pulled it out and clutched the pretty pink handle with everything I had. Which, to my astonishment, was a lot at the moment. The dust was still not settled and for some reason I could still see. I maneuvered the knife to revile the shiny blade. I heard the older man start to laugh. Then the younger one chimed in. “What are you going to do with that?”
I glared at him and kicked him in the stomach. I guess it was pretty hard because he went down and started crying like a baby. This made me laugh a little inside. His older friend didn’t like the fact that I had kicked his buddy and he started to lunge at me. The knife, I had still clenched in my hand, was very sharp. It maintained its sharpness because I had never used it. Even though it didn’t look like much it was about to wreak havoc on these two jerks. So, aiming as best as I could, I took the knife to his throat and cut the right side of his neck. He looked at me in shock as I knew he could feel the blood pouring from his fresh wound. I was in a little shock too.

I really psyched myself up, praying that this knife would save the day. Never did I think the knife would do any damage. After the shock wore off, my confidence really soared and I quickly took the knife and slashed the other side of his neck. I was extremely excited and a little frightened that I could do such a thing. Now that this prick was out of the picture I only had the other guy to fight off.
The dirt had settled by now, but to my surprise he was nowhere in sight. I searched all around me, the knife in hand ready to keep slashing. I had to know where he was. My life was on the line here. I was confused. I could have sworn that just seconds before I cut the other side of his friends neck, I could still hear him on the ground, crying like a baby. Maybe he saw what I was capable of and decided that death by a knife was not the way he wanted to end his life. It was then, when I decided to walk towards where I had come from and contact the police.

I never saw the second guy again. It wasn’t until a few weeks later, when I had got a phone call from the police saying that they found my second attacker. I wanted to hear he had died in a knife fight, but I knew that was a long shot. Apparently, he had been dealing with some major stomach problems. He was hemorrhaging from the kick to the stomach and had died shortly after being admitted to the hospital. I’m not sure I have too much remorse for him or for his friend that he left behind. When this gets out on the news, that some girl with a 3 inch knife fended off two attackers, then maybe the world will become a little safer. Until that happens, (which we all know will be never), I will give that day to my 3 inch, pink knife, and my brush of pure luck.