BitterSweet

Bittersweet symphony
Coffee with cream and sugar
Comfy couch with dog hair
Chocolate chip cookie
Man and woman
Marriage
People
Bitter
Sweet
Love
Hate
Life

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Making People

Each of these people
Were made by two parents.
Molded and shaped
By opinions, thoughts and variants.

These two people
Made four more humans.
They didn’t do it perfectly.
In fact, our family’s in ruins.

Their legacy was not premeditated.
Their good intentions paved the way,
To Hell and back and there again–
Four lanes without delay.

This kiss and marriage caught some place
Between Heaven and Hell.
A dark, rock-hard place between their love
Is where my childhood fell.

Like a photograph that floats down
Behind a dresser, trapped by wall.
Forgotten with time, buried by dust.
Neglected, unseen by all.

But.

Their love made me.
Shouldn’t I be thankful for this?
I couldn’t think of something more lovely
Than a passionate wedding kiss.

Thankful to be here. No matter what.

Murder Mystery Spa Party!

Would you buy this roleplay manual on Amazon?

Excerpt:

“Get ready to relax, kick back, laugh and have a grand old time with your
best galfriends! This party is so fun and easy to throw. Every woman already
has all the props in her bathroom! The host does need to read the entire set of instructions, lists and scripts to prepare and understand game play. The party is even more fun if you’re serving cocktails, not just water. Like cucumber martinis for those tired ladies with a cucumber garnish for those tired lady eyes! You’re trying to solve a murder, but you’re also trying to relax and pamper yourself. Might as well, you’re at a spa! So. There’s been a murder! Obvs!

Barbera Bouffant, the salon owner of the Updo Salon and Spa, was found in the tanning booth…fried! She’s been murdered. Someone tampered with the bed and she’s toast. She’s dead, but her tan looks amazing. She’ll be the prettiest corpse at the funeral home. Madge, the manager, finds her first. The back door was closed but unlocked. However, Barbera could have accidentally forgotten to lock up. She did that often. You and your guests have to figure out who the killer is. Some of you work at the salon and some of you are clients, but you’re all suspects. Everyone had a motive and opportunity to kill Babs. Dun-dun-dun!”

Available now! Click here to check it out. Really low price, as low as I could make it-$2.99.

And starting tomorrow, you can download my other book for free! FREE! Limited time only. Please check it out, it’s a quick read and you can’t beat the price. 🙂 It’s quite a departure from the game above, but it’s some of the best writing I’ve done IMO.

Oh, and I graduated today! I finally have my associate degree in graphic design! Great day for me! I hope for you, too. Hit me up if you need a design or logo. 😉 If it’s for a good cause, I usually volunteer.

What Is It To Be a Woman?

Men will never know
The painful joy of giving birth.
Thank God for that providence
Or we would have an empty Earth!

Men will always know
The advantage of being male.
They can’t understand
The privilege of that tale.

Men will never know
What it’s like to be preyed.
Simply take my “No.”
We live constantly afraid.

Men will never know
What it’s like to FEEL free.
I feel sorry for them.
They can’t be a woman like me.

Princess

Broken, unspoken

Battered and shattered

Beat up—written off

Abused, confused

I wander this world

Rebuked and refused

Men make advances

Fathers take advantage

The world crushes the weak

On the wheels of progress.

Women take control

Mother, don’t lose hope

The world can’t exist without us.

Unfailing

Like the ship on a sea,
My body is Home.
You always have rest
Wherever you roam.

To know true Peace
We must struggle and wrestle.
Our cargo is Honesty
Carried far in a vessel.

Don’t give up, please,
Holding through the night.
Words and wisdom will come.
Keep praying for the light.

Like sun in the morning,
Your smile is Life.
Want is not need.
Sacrifice is a Wife.

Dog with a Blog

So. I had a tiny come-to-Jesus moment the other night. I proverbially, threw my hands up in the air and said these words, “I just want to write, I have to write. And I don’t care any more if anyone reads my stuff or even likes it.”

You see. I’ve been worried, for a very long time, that my work is not work unless it has a price tag dangling from the corner. One or more of my graphic design teachers (when I went to a 2-year community college for art less than 10 years ago) told me never to do any work for free. Which is funny, because every other entry-level graphic design position in KC seems to be an internship. Unpaid. Ha!

So I decided to harness my art skills, writing skills and any other skills I had by writing a book. I had big dreams of book signings and elbow rubbings. And everything started to make sense. I thought I had found my calling (132nd calling, to be exact, but who’s counting? Stop counting!). But writing books takes years and I can’t seem to get past short-story status.

When book writing didn’t pan out, I figured blogging was where I might find my stride. Short, little bursts of wisdom and creativity with creative media on every post. Perfect! I was made for that. My skills line up with that like 2nd graders going to extra recess. But everyone has a blog. I even know a dog with a blog. And several babies. Pretty sure.

So. Being creative sucks. It’s hard to find an outlet. One that pays anyway. And you’re competing with a bunch of talented and untalented creatives, alike. Ones that have gone to school for journalism, English majors, natural-born Hemingways or Picassos. And the other heaps of craft and Christian blogs that fill the ocean of online literature. How can I ever hope to keep my head above the waves in a sea of blogs?

But in my come-to-Jesus moment, with tears, I realized. Who are you doing this for?

Through some pretty painful thoughts, my epiphany rose. Your writing is the voice you always wanted. And you just want to be heard because you felt like you never were. Same with acting, art, anything. Your hands and mouth and mind won’t stop, even if you tried. They’ve had their freedom. You were the 4th child of a crazy family who wasn’t big on sharing, feelings or truth. Your voice was lost on that sea of insanity. You don’t want to be ignored. You have something to say.

But, it has to be more than that. Because everyone has that story. What God is leading me to is this.

GOD: If I gave you a voice, it was to use for me. Not to heal your broken heart. Not to sermonize. Not to exorcise your demons. Not to psychoanalyze your issues. But to work for me. And I have taken care of you. I will continue to do that. You show my power in your weakness. Stop worrying about money. I will not let your voice drown. Like the boat that I was in and kept tall on the waves that I stilled, I will raise your voice for those that need to hear it.

After having my moment, I received an email the very next day. It might have been spam, but God can even use spam I think. Here’s what it read:

Hi There,
I came across your artwork and absolutely love it. 🙂

Probably spam. But it was an offer for artists to send in their designs and earn a percentage on what they sell. They probably saw my art because I started working on customizedgirl.com to sell my art on t-shirts and bags. This email featured a site that was very similar to customizedgirl, just an upscale version of the same concept. And they claim to be socially conscious. Of course they do.

But whatever. It was simply a reminder. Keep doing what you love. It doesn’t matter where your art goes. It goes.

And. I saw a blogger post a blog post (one they had not written) on Facebook, liked by another blogger. The blog post was about an amateur blogger asking advice from a successful blogger. That’s like 4-blogger deep. Not kidding. “That’s like Inception in the blog-o-sphere.” (joke credit: Guy C. Maggio)

Great article. It opened my eyes. Her advice was stop worrying about your writing. Just let it speak for itself. I saw this after my meltdown. I mean, moment of clarity. Ha! It was a confirmation of what I already decided. God was showing me that. Affirming that. Assuring me.

Every time I have reached a meltdown-able moment in my life about anything. Love, work, school, parenting. I have to reach a point of clarity from exhaustion. I’m fairly hard-headed and I love beating that big, hard head against the wall. I usually try to force my agenda/dreams/choices through some narrow, attractive door of opportunity. Until I see for myself, it just won’t go. Then I can let go and walk away because I have no pushback left.

And then I usually walk by an open window. Usually. 🙂