Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Let’s say that you love someone so much that
you don’t even want to think about
not having them in your life. There comes a day when you’re both arguing a lot,
but you still cannot think of life without him. You think to yourself, “If I
were a friend of mine and I asked me for advice, I would say it’s time to
leave.” Yet, you can’t bear the thought because the thought alone breaks your
heart and makes you almost cry. You wish instead that maybe you’d just die.
Mainly, though, really, you wish that it would all go back to how it was, that
this bad period would end.
One day, however, with your heart breaking,
you decide that you have to step out there and either lose him (which is
killing you even thinking that) or that he’ll wake up and see that there is a
problem and since he also cannot even fathom
life without you, he’ll help you work through this.
You know that this could break you but you’re
heart’s already breaking so, really, what more can you do to your already
breaking heart? It’s bruised and battered as it is, you’re merely trying a radical
surgical procedure.
You start off a conversation one night,
putting how you feel out there for him to see. This is my blood; drink this in
memory of me. Then you tell him that you might have to move out on your own in
order stop feeling 5,000 miles away when he’s sitting next to you on the couch.
He, of course (it’s only human), get’s pissed
off and tells you your being dramatic, not realizing that the wine he’s
drinking really is the life’s blood that pumps your heart.
It’s breaking.
So, with that conversation done and another
day of your heart cracking, you decided to go and hunt out apartments for you.
All the while you’re feeling ill when you think of what furniture is yours and
what you might have to buy for your new apartment because the way it’s looking,
he very well might call your bluff.
After a few days of this, you’ve actually
staunched the bleeding of the broken heart and kept the crack from getting any
bigger and, most importantly, stopped it from splitting your heart in two.
Also, you’ve found an apartment that you can afford that will accept your
flawed credit history.
So on your way home, with the application in
hand, you think of how you’re going to broach the subject and most importantly,
when. This allows your heart to crack infinitesimally more. You think you might
throw up.
That evening, when he gets home from work,
you show him the papers and you say, “I found an apartment. Now, either I’m
going to move or, if you want to take a look at the place and you prefer it to
this one, you can move there.”
He looks at you like you’ve grown a second
head.
You blink, take in a breath and say, “I told
you that I would not be just an object in your life. If we’re going to live
like we’re just friends, albeit not one of my best friends ‘cause living with
them was actually fun, then I want my own place. I can’t take this anymore.”
For once (ha!) he looks at you like you’re
not only serious, but like that's a gun in your hand and you’re actually mugging
him. Even better, he knows that you are
mugging him, except it’s yourself that you’re stealing away from him and he
just can’t believe it.
This is really happening, you say.
Something about that look he gives you gives
you a little strength. Something stops the bleeding crack in your heart. You
swallow and with a little less shake in your voice, and what feels like a
little more saliva in your mouth, you tell him, “I said, you can stay here or
you can take a look at this apartment (you shake the papers in your hand…brazen!)
and if you like it, you can move there.”
“You’re serious,” he says finally finding his
voice.
“I told you. You didn’t listen.”
You start speaking in shorter sentences,
becoming less expository because, well, you rather like the feeling of this.
There is only a little part of you now,
that’s whispering out of the crack that’s now permanently cemented in your
heart, “I didn’t want to do this; I had to.”
Then, just like that, your world is different and
you learn that that love is gone and
you can live without him, or will one day if you have to.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
© Shima Eleven on bbc.co.uk
So that's it for 2011.
If you read the posts flying about on Facebook, it seems many a soul had a horrible year and there are prayers for better in the year to come.
*shrugs*
I dunno. I had a pretty good year, all told.
What I hope for is more learning, growing and accomplishing. Oh and dreaming! I want to do more of that... and London... and Paris... Yes. That.
Happy new year friends o' mine! Try not to break yourselves tonight. I can't guarantee that I won't...
Thursday, December 8, 2011
I trudge through halls of my high school clutching my hall pass waiting to shove it under the nose of anyone who might dare to question why I’m not in class. I clutch the strap to my ruck sack hoping it doesn’t break for the umpteenth time under the strain of a few (but heavy) books that will get me through the last few periods of the day. I won’t make it, so why do I expect my ruck to? I clutch my tears to my eyes hoping to god that I make it to the counselor’s office, the only place that I can shed them and unload the heavy ruck, the heavy thoughts and my body which seems to weigh more than anyone could imagine.
I don’t always remember what it is that I have to say to Anne. I don’t even remember to call her Miss Spinner because to me she’s just Anne. I sometimes have to wonder, how does she have the infinite patience to deal with all this, with the heaviness that I unload here in her office?
I remember the outside of her office very clearly because it was the place that I had to sit to wait while she had a conference with my parents. It was torture and I memorized every bit of it that one time that I had to sit outside of it because I couldn’t cry there, it was too public. The tears could only be allowed to spill when I crossed the threshold of her office. From time to time I could hear terms like “over dramatic” and “typical teenager” come through on my parents’ voices. From Anne I heard the “maybe you should”s and the “perhaps she would benefit”s come through.
Mainly I tried to tune it out. I didn’t want to hear what she tried to convey to my parents. I had already tried and they would not be budged. They didn’t want to hear about how brilliant I was and or that there were miracles that happened every day in the rising and setting of the sun.
Hell, it’s a catholic school so I rolled my eyes at what I thought was catastrophic and remembered there were children starving somewhere in some war torn country. I felt a little bad that what I couldn’t live through was simply one full day in class in high school.
I wondered what was wrong with me that I couldn’t get through a day without gasping my way to Anne’s office to unload and feel like I never wanted to leave it, my sanctuary. All I knew was that I couldn’t.The difference was that unlike a couple of my cousins, I didn’t want to end it all, just the parts that made me cry.
There was nothing wrong with me, I was just having a hard time getting through the day… and I don’t know why. My mom said it was just nerves and it happened to her all the time so she would ask me if perhaps some wine would help and pour me a glass.
“Sometimes I get like that,” she would say, placing the glass in front of me. “I’ll have a glass of wine and it takes out the tension, let’s me relax a little. Sometimes that’s all you need.”
I’d take the glass gladly, feeling the lethargy flow through me after a few sips. Maybe it was the ballet company and the AP classes and my choir that made it all so heavy - so many commitments. Once the wine hit all I could remember was the lightness of it all. I smile easily and I think about what it is that keeps me trying to get through those times when it’s not the books that are the heaviest things that I’m carrying.
There’s never enough wine, though. I’m amazed I’ve never tried to put any in the thermos. I blame the fact that it’s way too early as I try to make it to 0 period chemistry. I am not a morning person and I remember one day I put 2 different shoes from 2 different pairs of black 3 holed shoes together. In the dark, like it is when I’m trying to get ready for school at stupid o’clock in the morning, they look the same. Once the sun comes out, though, it’s very apparent that they are two VERY different shoes, including the fact that they are half an inch different in height.
I’d like to add that the new added contacts make me have to wake up super early. Yes, where vanity never succeeded before, I am now stuck waking up at least an hour early so that I have enough time to try and try and try until I get my contacts in my eyes. Vanity 1, Me 0. Fuck the glasses! I didn’t have to wear them before and I didn’t want to wear them now, so I will take the time to make sure that I can get these fuckers in my eyes.
This must be what it’s like to be one of those girls that so desperately needed to get their hair just right and their make up flawless.It’s a good thing that I didn’t have that need.
Here’s the way I see makeup: if you need that to enhance who you are, then you have issues. There is nothing wrong with the way I look and everyone looks a bit clownish at 16 with makeup. That's just my opinion, though. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll throw some on if I’m off to a show or something but it’s definitely more for theatrics than to make myself look prettier. In my opinion, I'm fine as is.
Somehow, though, the contacts did it. Pathetic.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
I finished last night with a word count of 50, 080 according to the site once I uploaded my file. I'm a little impressed with myself as I'm usually a little distracted, but I stuck with what I said I was going to do.
:)
It shows me that I should stick to a schedule because it will allow me time to write, even if it's just for practice.
So, what did I win?
I won:
- a few good stories - mostly complete except for editing
- some great ideas to explore
- more proof that I can do anything once I put my mind to it
- a new schedule for my writing
Saturday, November 26, 2011
NaNoWriMo day 26: I'm at 42,027 words from yesterday and I plan on writing at least another 2,000 today. I feel great! I'll be kicking my heels back soon, able to read the stack of books that's been accumulating.
Mainly, it really makes me wonder why I can't do this more often. I think I've got a new inspiration.
In case you hadn't heard, our bean is back. We found her the Saturday after my last post. We got a call at 8:30am from one of our neighbors saying they saw a small light colored fluffy cat behind the store around the corner. I went to check it out and I saw her behind the house across the street. I called in the cavalry (Stephen and his sister-in-law, Mel) and we rounded her up. So our little family is all together again. YAY!
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
NaNoWriMo day 8: I'm at 12,998 words.
I think that's pretty damn marvelous! Who knew I could write so much in these stories of mine?? I find myself in awe a bit of the things that I can accomplish and the way the stories are shaping out. I find that I want to know more about them, explore them more and see what they have to say.
In between last night and this morning, one of our cats got loose. She has a tendency to bolt when we open the door if she's near it to go out and eat some grass. Somehow or other, we missed it this time. The last time this happened, we found her on the steps up to our porch, greeting us with a meow like she had been only been waiting for us to let her in. After a day of not being able to find her, we sit here with the doors open, the lights on and a bowl of food at the door hoping that she finds her way back, hungry or tired... or just done with her adventure.
It's quite gut-wrenching, really. I keep expecting to see her come in or go to the bowl, keep thinking I'll see her any minute and I'm having a hard time knowing she's not here. I don't know what else to do but hope and wait, not wanting to think of any other ending other than she'll find her way home.
Come home Evie Bean, we miss you.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
I've started NaNoWriMo again. This is my 3rd attempt... of which I have a 50% success rate. Lemme tell you, having to work a night job last year, my prime writing time, I totally and utterly failed!
For those of you that don't know, NaNoWriMo takes place in November. It is National Novel Writing Month. In that month, the writers who participate strive to write 50,000 words (the word count that is considered a novel) in those 30 days. The goal is to just write so as not to get caught up in all the second guessing and editing that one can get caught up in when left to one's own devices. You make that push in order to cull something, anything, out of a bunch of words that are spewed onto paper or screen.
The thinking is that in the end, you might not have a finished novel, but you'll have the good beginnings of one.
As a person who favors the short story format, this hasn't been so successful for me. The first year I tried it and determinedly made the goal, I was left with... mush. Really, I still look at it and think... that's an interesting idea... and maybe I can make a short story out of it... but not much else and definitely not a novel. This is why I think I barely even tried last year. I didn't have much direction other than the way I begin any short story I write: a simple idea that might be a paragraph... or might be a few pages.
This year I decided I'd tailor it more to my liking. I'm still pushing for 50,000 words, but I'm aiming for short stories.... 5- 10 at 10,000 to 5,000 words each to be edited after November. The key is to get any idea (10 max) out there and to crank out what could be considered a short story in that time. I like to think of it as making a collection of short stories for me to whittle down and edit.
It's working. I've given myself a daily minimum word count and as long as I can do that, I figure that I'm pretty solid. Yesterday was hard to do (maybe because it was my first day?) but today was pretty freakin' easy. I would still be writing right now if this wasn't already such a tough work week and I knew I needed my sleep after having had little of it since last Thursday... or maybe it was Wednesday... anyway, you get the picture.
I'm excited... more excited than I have been in a long time. Maybe it's because I've finally gotten how to do this on my terms, and maybe it's because I'm just doing it.
;;
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