Pictures, Music, and New Challenges

"I begin a book with imagery, more than I do with an idea or a character.  Some kind of poetic image."  - Rachel Kushner

I wonder.... if you take a black and white picture of a black cat, is it really a color photo?

Talk about random.

Just something I've been working on.  Okay, to be honest, my husband tagged me in one of those Facebook challenges.  This one is the "Seven days. Seven black and white photos of my life. No people. No explanation. Challenge someone every day."  For day four, I considered a close-up picture of one of my cats, who is black, and considered using it for a challenge.  When I made it black and white, nothing changed.  I was tempted to submit the color photo to see who would notice.  Since I was rechallenged by the last person I challenged, maybe I should do the color photo just to see what would happen?

When it came to finding these pictures, it made me think, more like grumble, a lot.  The ideas I had from the beginning, the first challenge, were predictable; my cats, the dog, tea, my computer, possibly that tree over there.  See?  Pre-dict-a-ble.  And I have another challenge to do!  Either my life is boring or I'm terrible at this.  Too bad it wasn't a music challenge.  I would have blown that away!  I listen to music every day without fail.  My playlists rotate and I am currently listening to "Writer's Block Too" for obvious reasons.  This particular playlist was genius.  I mixed it up and went a little more alternative, rock, and a tad darker than normal.  What?  I need inspiration for my third Lost Gun book and last I checked, the series was not all daisies and fluffy unicorns.  So I tapped into music's darker side, with some fun stuff mixed in.  Cue the dance music!

Oh? So did this magical playlist spark any inspiration?

Actually, yes.  One song, Mad Hatter by Melanie Martinez, struck a chord for a new character.  Once again it is the wrong story, but it was something new and I ran with it!  One stanza, in particular, stuck out: "I'm peeling the skin off my face, 'Cause I really hate being safe, The normals, they make me afraid, The crazies, they make me feel sane".  Now, the story I am working on is a simple vampires versus witches and vampire hunters.  Alright, a quick summary: there is this one witch that was killed by her vampire which sent shockwaves through the tiny witch community.  To make matters worse, the vampire became overpowered by the magic in the witch's blood and goes off to find more.  Bringing us to our main character and her issues with her newly discovered power and the love triangle between her vampire and another.  (If you know me, I cannot write a story without some sort of emotional turmoil.)  During a battle between the main characters and this power-hungry baddie vampire, I froze.  I didn't know how this was supposed to play out.  I toyed with the idea of another witch giving her power to the main girl and one of the vampires personally knowing the big bad but still, nothing felt right.  Hearing this song, this stanza multiple times, I began to see her.  A new character, a witch, the same witch who's blood triggered the madness, makes her appearance after being driven mad by how her vampire manipulated her.  Her mind was shattered, creating personalities to fit her trauma and odd habits, such as constantly chewing on her fingers and grumbling about hating how she had been used in the fight against vampires, to add to her insane demeanor.  A once perfectly sane witch that snapped and did the unthinkable, gave her blood to a vampire causing the unrest that sets my story in motion.  Yes, dark, but considering the story, a perfect catalyst for growth.  My main had become stagnant.  Her development halted by fear.  This little push could be enough for her to blossom into the protector I envisioned her to be.

Okay, I guess it worked then.  What about another song?  Any other brilliantly insane characters?

No need to be sarcastic.  I know the character I just mentioned needs a lot of work but remember, she's hardly on paper yet.  So chill.  But yes, another song is helping me, E.T. by Katy Perry.  Something about this song always gets my romance side working.  It's forbidden love, taboo, and great writing fuel.  Every time I hear E.T., my mind wanders as I sing along.  The story that comes to my mind is a simple girl meets boy, but what else would you envision?  Katy Perry basically gives you a play-by-play. 

Wow, so, lovey-dovey.  You're  a hopeless romantic, aren't you?

I very well might be!  But you can't say anything because it helps me write.  Right?

I can see that.  But how are you going to keep pushing yourself?  It seems that you've become stagnant as well.

Oh my God!  You're right!  What can I do?  *paces nervously*  There has to be something, anything.  But what?  Hold on....  There is something!

Oh no, I sense a bad idea coming.

Not a totally bad idea.  A while back, a writer friend of mine had stalled in her writing.  So I created a little challenge for her.  I called it the "Media Inspired Short Stories" challenge!  MISS for short.

*slow clap*  Absolutely brilliant.

Well, that's the name and I'm gonna stick with it!  The idea is that you take a song or a picture a write a little story to go with it.  Kinda like E.T. with me, but fleshed out.  It's brilliant I tell you!  Brilliant, brilliant, BRILLIANT!!  (Props to those who get the reference!) 

So that's what I'm going to do, expand this blog with short stories!  I'll listen to a song, any song, you can suggest stuff to me too, and in couple weeks, I'll post a story with the song and/or picture attached.  Try it with me too!  If you feel the inclination to write, do it!  Fuel the dormant imagination within and create!  Now I feel like I'm trying to sell inspiration insurance....  I'll do it.  Then you can tell me if you like my stories.  Critique my creations!

A Few Character Tidbits

"Your life is like a play with several acts.  Some of the characters who enter have short roles to play, others, much larger.  Some are villians, others are good guys.  But all of them are necessary; otherwise, they wouldn't be in the play.  Embrace them all, and move on to the next act."  - Wayne Dyer

*scribble, scribble, scribble*

Whatcha' doin'?  Writing I hope.

Uh, yeah.  Sure.  *looks down at pen scratches*  Well, kinda.  I have a few notes in my notebook and on my phone, but when I thought I had an idea, it floated away.  Plus, it doesn't help that while I've been productive with writing, it's been on the wrong book!

Harsh.  How many books do you plan on writing anyway?

As many as I can.  You know that I find writing relaxing so I'll keep going until I get tired of it.  Which can be tomorrow or never.

At least you're somewhat productive.  But I have a question.

Yes?

Can I ask you and one of your characters some things?  I'm kinda curious.

Uh, yeah.  What do you want to know?

Well, what about your first character?  You've mentioned her and I want to get to know her.

Kali?  Wow, it's been a while since I last spoke with her.  What I have shared about her is that, not only is she my first character, she is one of the main characters in the first story I ever wrote.  That story, Blood from Another, helped me through some difficult times, both personally and educationally.  If you read my work, you can probably tell how I was feeling as I was typing up a scene.  There are happy moments, but Blood from Another is mostly conflict; confrontations, demons, overall bad luck. I didn't make it easy for any of them.  People had been forced into their situations.  Greater powers influenced the world and twisted an individual's views on others.  I went big with this story.

I have a question for Kali.  Can you get her?

Hold on, let me find her.  Kali!  *wanders away*

Wait, did you really leave?  Get back here!

Fine.  Found her though!  Kali, say hi.

- Hello.  How long is this going to take?

Not very.  Go on, the stage is yours!

- *swallows*  Okay.

She's a little shy so go easy on her.

Alright.  So Kali, what are you?

-I am a vampire.  I was turned when I was twenty-six.  It was against my will, but in the end, I can't complain.  I found someone whom I love immensely and Dwyer can be quite the charmer when he tries.  And before you ask, he is a vampire too, an Ancient to be exact.  He is one of the originals but unlike his siblings, he has only turned three people, myself included.  My situation was one where he pitied me and wanted to give me a second chance, but his brother, Kieran, decided to take me away and turn me against Dwyer.  It worked for a couple decades, but I came around.  Kieran was an asshole, still is.

Do you wish that you had more time in the book?

-I am already all over this thing.  It is exhausting really.  The chapters where I am not the main focus are quite relieving.

Why is it exhausting?

-Well, Kieran is a control freak, Dwyer is over-protective, and I keep being dragged into the middle of their sibling rivalry.  Then after I was awakened, *sigh* there is a war between humans and vampires.  The Sunrise Corporation decided to take it upon themselves to combat the vampire threat. *grumbles*  They also decided to categorize vampires based on threat level.  I was nicknamed Reaper and categorized a Still Morte, silent death, until they realized I was a Grand, an awakened vampire.  Fitting if you knew how we fought.  It worked in my favor and I was good at my job.  Call it luck, but I found out that Damien, the ace Hunter of my enemy, was my blood.  *blushes while picking at fingers*  It's still weird for me to think that I used to enjoy bloodshed.

What's your favorite part of the story?  It's basically your life, right?

-You can say it is but it is difficult to tell you what my favorite part of my life has been.  However, if I had to narrow it down, it would be either falling in love with Dwyer, seeing Liam overcome his bloodlust, or Azrael.  *blush deepens*  Not that I can have a favorite, I mean, um, when you live as long as I have and you experience just as much, you would understand what I mean.  *hides face behind hands*  Oh, this is embarrassing.  I am so glad Dwyer is not here.  *looks over her shoulder*  Though I have a feeling Azrael might be.  *glares*  He does not understand boundaries very well.

You alright?

-*blinks* Huh?  Oh, yeah.  I'm fine.

If you want, Kali, you can go back to your life now.  I have a few more questions for Lindsey.

-Thank you.  It was a pleasure to speak with you. *innocent smile*

What do you think of Kali?

Seems interesting.  Maybe we could bring her out again later?

Maybe, but not today.  I think she has something stuff to do.

No problem because I have some questions for you.

Alright.  Shoot.

In your "Lost Gun"  series we meet Samuel.  How did you come up with him?  And why in the hell is he so cocky?

Haha!  To be honest, he just happened to be that way.  The more I wrote Samuel, the more distinct his personality became.  He was originally supposed to be comic relief, but him teasing everyone was too much fun.  Samuel is direct, blunt, lives for pleasure, and, in Bartender, mostly has a one track mind.  I couldn't write him any differently if I tried.  He's a cocky asshole and that's the way he should be.  Something about Samuel just screams arrogance which was something my main character, Ghost, needed.  Ghost is quiet so when he became friends with Samuel, he was pushed out of his comfort zone and developed more as a human being.  Samuel's cockiness comes from his teenage years.  I mention in one chapter of Bartender his past before he came to the White's household.  He thought he was invincible, women came to him, he was hot stuff, and no one could tell him otherwise.  Samuel liked his life until he had to flee.  Leaving his family behind was difficult and he ended up drowning himself in women and drinking during his hours off work.  Total player.  It was Kim White who helped bring him around.  While Samuel's ego didn't deflate, he found a purpose, a meaning behind his existence.  He would never admit it, but despite loving to hit the clubs, Samuel secretly enjoys lazing around at home in his underwear, sipping a beer, watching a movie.

 Seems like you dove into the deep end of the pool for him.  How are you able to focus on a character to create depth and a backstory?

Not totally sure.  I just enjoy thinking about my characters.  I throw them into "what-if" situations and watch them react.  As for their backgrounds, my mind has this uncanny knack to fill in holes.  If something does not make sense, I have to figure it out; which is how Bartender came about.  But when it comes to sitting down and writing, I always have music playing.  I have a few playlists that I rotate through.  Or songs that I put on repeat.  For example, Samuel, his song is Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time by Panic at the Disco.  If I'm struggling to write while staring at my screen, music is what usually gives me that extra little push.

Music connects you to a character?  Then which character are you most connected to?

Hmm.... good question.  I'll get back to you on that.

Not fair!  At least give me a name!

*shrug*  Sorry.  Got nothing off the top of my head.

Liar.

What are you gonna do about it?

*grumble*  Give you a different question....  Do you have a character that relates back to you?

To be honest, Mia from the Lost Gun series is the one that I can see standing beside me.  Not because she reminds me of me, but because, unlike most my other characters, I wrote her based off someone that I know personally.  The girl and Mia are pretty close with their histories, but Mia evolves and becomes someone better.  Someone that I hope her inspiration can become.  So I guess Mia is my wish for the girl.  I'll admit, it's been a long journey for the real girl, but I'm still unsure of how she'll become.

Stress Overload

"In times of great stress or adversity, it's always best to keep busy, to plow your anger and energy into something productive." - Lee Iacocca

Who has ever needed to save themselves from suffocating in their emotions? I'm pretty sure everyone has at some point in their life. Unless you're some emotionless man then I might need to interview you for a story of mine.

Okay, this feels like another touchy-feely post. Where are you going with this?

Sigh. Well, I've had a lot on my mind this past week and to be honest, it is sent me into a depression.  It's nothing work or writing related but more personal. Lately, I've been forced to think about some painful things in my past. I have been dealing with some stressful things in my present. I'm worried about things in the future. Ug, things! I somehow managed to stress myself out over the course of twenty-four hours. It's difficult because I can talk to one or two people about it, but those I really need to talk to one of two things happen. One, they don't want to listen. Two, I open my mouth and I choke. So all my thoughts end up stuck in my head, bouncing around without answers. With my overactive mind, I have to find a way to clear my head. Lord knows that a few bottles of beer would help me talk, but I don't want to be that person.

Should I even ask?

I'm not sure. How do you feel when you're depressed? I get lethargic, mopey, sleepy, can't sleep, and in the middle of the night, I'll be typing scenes that aren't exactly on the happy side of the scale. I'm knee deep in that now. I need tea....

Continue to tie it into writing cause, you know, that’s what you do.

Okay, then let's try this, a couple days ago, I caught myself trying to hide in bed under my covers (as if sleeping until 1pm wasn't a clue). Then the following day, similar situation: slept as late as possible, rolled over and turned on the tv, cats jumped on the bed to make my leg a pillow, then I told myself to do laundry and grabbed my laptop. The story I chose to work on was a borderline writer's block situation so I added a chapter to fill in a time jump and that helped take my mind off things.

Back to writing then.

When I discovered writing, I was in a depressed state. I used it to express myself and sort out my thoughts. I'll not go into it since this post goes a bit more in-depth about why I write. Still, the point is the same, it helps. I still have a ton of unanswered questions but the deluge of emotions I've been experiencing (frustration, anger, uselessness, failure, fear, etc.) have lessened some. The walking on eggshells feeling is back, but what else can I do?

Any ideas?

Actually, yes, I have an idea. I opened up my original story, the first one I ever wrote, read a chapter that I had written when I was in pain. While I can't remember why I was upset, I can still feel the emotion. It angers me that I felt this horrible in the past. It angers me now that I am feeling it creep back. It makes me happy because my best writing is done when I am emotional. It's complicated, very. And I hate it. Though, while reading that story, my editing side emerged. It was written in a different style than what I favor now (third-person vs. first), there are times where it is difficult to understand who is speaking, there are grammar errors. *fingers twitch* I must edit. Still have not done so because once I do, I'll be on it for at least a week.

And that's a bad thing?

Yes and no. I'll have no life because I'll sequester myself under my rock. I'll be semi-productive, writing-wise. I'll lose sleep. I'll dive into a fantasy world. I'll become anti-social. I'll forget to eat, change clothes, and shower. I'll leave it to you to decide which is good and which is not.

Doesn't seem so bad. Hiding under rock sounds quite nice.

Of course, you'd enjoy it.

That a problem?  *smiles*

*rolls eyes* Not at all.  Alrighty then. If I were to listen to you, I would write, right?

Duh.

Why?

You're asking me a question? Quit trying to do a role-reversal! That's just laziness on your part.

It's just a question.

*grumble* Fine, but you might not like my answer.

Why?

Because you already answered it yourself. See? 

"The point, however, remains the same: that I write to escape the stranglehold that my emotions trapped me within. Writing, focusing my energy on something productive, cleared my head. I was able to think and address my problems through a different point-of-view other than my own."  Emotions Turned into Fuel, 8-17-2017

It's the same link you added earlier in this post. Even you recognize that you need this.

You have a valid point…. And you're right, I don't like your answer. Mostly because it tells me that I'm stuck in a circular rut. Geez, if you had said that writing meant I would get red bean buns then I would have been all over it without a second thought.

Okay. You'll get red bean buns.

Smartass.

*smirk*

Folks, this is what happens when I lose to my inner voice.

But it has a point. The answer to settling my thoughts has been writing. Since college, it has always been writing. Writing has helped me through my worst lows. When I'm enjoying life, I'm out taking in what I can and writing kinda slips to the side. I'll try to edit, but my creative side falls asleep. This is just the swift kick in the ass I needed!

Good. Go grab your headphones.

I'm already wearing them. You know that. I think what you mean is "go open a story and get crackin’!" I have a few different stories that want attention so I might as well use my stress-induced energy productively.

I'm wondering, though, if you don't mind me asking, what do you do to relieve stress? Any tips or tricks you're willing to share?

Frustration and Sparks

Wow, I just realized how far behind I am on posting. So much for once a week…. A lot has happened over the past few weeks that I got side tracked. First, Hurricane Harvey. Second, helping my community. Third, life in general. Fourth, husband's birthday (yay)! Fifth, my own personal hell. Sixth, health issues (not mine). Seventh, went on a trip. Wow, I suddenly feel super busy now that I've listed some of the things out. Happily, hell is gone! Yay! Which is both a good and bad thing because it means some quiet, finally, but she always returns. Dun, dun, duuuunnnn!

Hell?

Let me clarify first. My personal hell takes the form of a now twenty-year-old girl. Not my child, not related to me, not family, just a poor child that we have helped over the past few years. Because of her, my life has been a roller coaster. As if my own issues weren't enough, she came in like a wrecking ball. It is hard to look at someone that has problems like hers and not want to help. Her life is difficult, challenging, unfair, and stressful, but if she embraced the opportunity, she could escape that horrible life. We offered that opportunity. It's been years since I met her, some days she would be good, others, incredibly frustrating. This past month, a whirlwind isn't sufficient enough description. It was exhausting. I could say more, but I feel like I shouldn't. Let's just say that it takes a lot to piss me off and she hit that point and beyond.

I think you're venting….

Sigh. I am and I apologize. Thanks for stopping me. I'm pretty sure I can go on for hours about the misery this child brings, but I won't subject you to that torture. However, on the bright side, she is a wealth on inspiration. In my Lost Gun series, one girl is inspired by her (though I will never give this child the satisfaction of know that). Of course, the character has a questionable history but she takes the opportunities handed to her to improve in life.

What else have you been up to since, you know, you abandoned us.

I did not abandon you! It has been busy and my internet isn't exactly the best.

Uh huh, right. Then why did you go on a trip?

Okay, it was only for a few days. My sister, let's call her K, had a horse show in Ohio and I was able to go! What? It's Ohio, my home away from home, of course I’m gonna go if I’m invited! The air is cleaner, the leaves were changing colors, the weather was wonderfully cool, I was in heaven. I missed Ohio. It was exactly what I needed to help clear my head. As for why I went, my sister did well. Her horses were amazing, as always. Not to brag, but I have a pretty kickass sister. If you saw K ride, you would understand. She has this funny talent of taking a horse and turning them into a champion. I still remember the little white pony when we were younger. K took that pony and made her a national champion. And that is only one of K's superpowers.

What else?

Well, my husband's birthday was near the end of September. I had a blast planning stuff for him! Failed for a couple surprises because somebody kept taking the initiative and jumping too far ahead. Not kidding! I had to ask K about using her apartment for grilling and on my way to lunch with her, she calls saying my husband was asking about the grill! Ug, any future surprise parties are going to be impossible.... But I managed to get his gift wrapped and hidden. He loved the shirts, computer tool kit, and other trinkets he got from me and the family.  It totally didn't help that at the end of the night, he hd been able to see friends that he had not been able to hang out with for years (and maybe one or two of them paid for a few shots).  He was a very happy guy!

Did you do anything worthwhile over the past few weeks?

Yes! I think. Beside what I've already mentioned, I have been brainstorming for the next book in Lost Gun. Hit a wall a few months back and haven’t been able to break through. Instead, I would work on other projects and try to gather inspiration from those, but alas, all has failed. It was depressing. Not even my favorite cup of tea helped. When problem child popped up, frustration built, tension grew, and I hit my head against the door frame, literally. It sucked, a lot. Then a tiny little spark flickered in the back of my head. Grasping on it, I have been vigilantly nurturing it, praying that it will grow into an idea that will allow me to charge through this story. The biggest problem is simple, I have a idea of how I want the story to end, a vague idea of how to get there, and an even vaguer idea of what needs to happen. I'm pretty sure I may be introducing more of a family which could throw a wrench into my plans or be the frame to something magnificent! I guess I'll figure that out when I hit the keyboard again.

Aren’t you technically hitting the keyboard now?

Oh hush. You know what I mean. I have a couple more things to do before I’m able to sit and write for a day.

Excuses. Excuses. Shame on you.

Ug, I know! Procrastination! It's evil! Other than that, the only other thing that's been preventing my creativity is hell. She's back and already on my nerves. Which is a good thing for my writing. I tend to stay up later when she's here and to kill time, I write. Which is exactly what I did last night. So, I'm kinda being productive. Guess I need to start blasting my "Writer's Block" playlist, huh?   Here's one of my favorite songs in that list: Machine by MisterWives

Houston Will Rock You Like a Hurricane

"The easiest period in a crisis situation is actually the battle itself.  The most difficult is the period of indecision -- whether to fight or run away.  And the most dangerous period is the aftermath.  It is then, with all his resources spent and his guard down, that an individual must watch out for dulled reactions and faulty judgments."  - Richard Nixon

I'm sure you have seen Houston on the news.  We're all over it.  It's strange.  Seeing my city plastered all over the news like a show pony.  A hurricane hit, it was catastrophic, "unprecedented" (a word that has been thrown around a lot down here), and record-breaking.  I was one of the lucky ones.  My home was spared.  I still have power and air conditioning and a bed to sleep in at night.  The news is not wrong.  They are not hiding the truth.  A lot of Houstonians are suffering.

Have you seen the damage?

Wednesday (8/30), I went to a friend's home, not ten minutes from me.  They were flooded.  They lost everything.  The good news for them is that they had moved so their belongings were safe.  But the new floor that was just installed two weeks prior was gone.  It pained me to see a pretty wood floor go to waste.  As I helped clean, I could see the disappointment in my friend's eyes.  They had gone through this last year, 2016, during the Memorial Day Flood.  Twice they had been flooded, unheard of in our area.  Compared to the overall damage, myself and them got off easy.  I could only imagine what happened south of me.

Then, is the news accurate?

When I watch the news, I hear reports from downtown, Meyerland, Katy, I-45, Winnie, Crosby, and so many other places that it is genuinely shocking that a disaster of this magnitude would strike where I live.  The amount of flooding is unheard of.  The number of evacuations and rescues is astonishing.  You would hear things on the news, like the tornado Super Outbreaks of 2011 and 1974 (which destroyed Xenia, Ohio) or Superstorm Sandy, and you can think to yourself that it will never happen to you, but the awful truth is that it can.  Mother Nature does not discriminate.  I have lived in Houston most of my life and I understand that hurricanes happen and have been hit by them.  This one, as a local I cannot emphasize this enough, I have never seen this level of flooding or destruction.

Locals, long-time residents who have experienced this were prepared but preparation does not always work.  Where I live, we have quite a few transplants.  People have moved in, most from California, and when the threat of a tropical storm was broadcasted, they panicked.  It's like they've never been in the rain before.  As a local and someone who has been through a few hurricanes, plenty of tropical storms, and a couple tornadoes ripping through the backyard, I found their paranoia mildly amusing and incredibly annoying.  But it was expected.

What makes you say that?

Early on, when the storm warnings started, I had to venture out of my house a few times and each time I encountered people who were either panicked or the definition of rude.  There's no water anywhere, the grocery stores have been stripped bare, and I get it, you want gas, but do not cut me off, almost having me crashing into your passenger door when I am leaving the pump.  During the beginning of a potential disaster, panic rules the majority.  You have to be level-headed to sufficiently and effectively prepare.  Even then, the unexpected can still creep in the front door.  The storm strengthened rapidly.  The water rose quicker than we expected.  The amount of water that fell was enormous, Sunday (8/27), it was an estimated nine trillion gallons of water.  In my previous Hurricane Harvey post, I told you my rules for disasters.  Don't panic and keep calm was number one.  It will always be number one because the moment panic sets in, mistakes are made.  Mistakes were made during Harvey and some people paid the ultimate price, their lives.  But it is also when disasters hit that you see the heart of the people living there.

What is the heart of Houston?

We were rocked by a hurricane carrying one hell of rain soaked grudge.  Whatever Harvey had against Houston, we were left to deal with its aftermath.  Flood waters will not stop our people from helping others.  Boats, jet skis, volunteers, shelters, donations all appeared before the storm was over.  People risked their lives to save others.  No one cared who you were.  No one cares about the color your skin or your sexual orientation or your political affiliation, all we see is someone in need of help.  Our hands were outstretched to those in need to save them.  People were banding together for rescues, clean-up, and comfort.  We are doing what we can to help others, even if we have suffered ourselves.  That is Houston.  We may be assholes on the road, but a disaster brings out the best of men.  Strangers become heroes.  Strangers become friends.  We become united by bonds deeper than a handshake.  Most rescued may never see the man on the boat again, but they know that someone took their time to help.  Peoples lives were saved because others refused to let Harvey control them.  People, not only local but also from the rest of this country, have proven that when others need help, Americans will step up in times of need.  Houston makes me proud to be a Texan.

It is a time of panic and unity in Houston.  We are grateful for the huge amount of support the rest of the country has shown.  It is incredibly touching.  Thank you.  Thank you so very, very much.

An Impromptu Post - Hurricane Harvey

"Reports of hurricanes are unfounded." - Michael Fish   

Woohoo!  I got my wish, rain!  And lots of it!!

You jerk....

Crap, uh, you want to kill me because of that.  Don't you?

*glares

That would be a yes.  Sooo, I'll get back on topic, Hurricane Harvey!

There are plenty of jokes going around about Texas, but my current favorites are that we Texans are rockin' out to "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and "Rock You Like a Hurricane."  As a fellow rock lover, I approve!  After all, everything is bigger in Texas, including the need to party!  Ok, that might be a little bit of an overstatement considering Hurricane Harvey.  My phone started giving me those Tropical Storm warnings and weather watches since Tuesday (8/22).  Nothing like your phone blowing up in the middle of the night to help you sleep.  Now, I've been under the outer bands for a while and I love the rain.  It’s so relaxing, hurricane or not.

*glare intensifies

*clears throat*  Right, sorry.  Time to focus!  I'm here to give you updates!  But only for Houston, cause, that's what I know.

The area in red shows the potential path of the center of Harvey

Good.  Continue, please.

Harvey made landfall as a Cat 4 hurricane by Corpus Christi on Friday (8/25) night.  Since then, it has dumped buckets upon buckets of rain along the Gulf coast, Houston included.

Reports show that the creeks and bayous are going to go into major flooding stages.  There have also been tornado sightings.  One over a dear friend of mine!  The news has shown people waiting on rooftops for rescue.  Roads have gone under, major intersections downtown are drowning, suburban streets are lakes and rivers.  The Addicks and Barker reservoirs are having a controlled release done to relieve pressure on the dams.  Flooding is very real.  If watching the news doesn't prove it, look out your window.  We are living through a historic storm.

Rainfall forecast for the coming days

This is a point I hope I don't need to parrot: if you see high water, turn around, don't drown.  There are shelters if you need.  Be smart!  If you think you are in trouble or are going to be, leave.  If you need help, ask.  Call 911 for life-threatening emergencies.  The National Guard has been activated and the Coast Guard is helping.  It is insane out there.

For more updated information, check one of these out:

• ABC13 - Watch Live
• The Weather Channel - Hurricane News
• NOAA - National Hurricane Center

Emergency numbers:

• Police, Firefighters, Ambulance - 911 or 713.884.3131
• City of Houston (Emergencies) - 311 or 713.837.0311
• FEMA (Federal Emergency Management Agency) - 1.800.525.0321
• Harris County - 713.881.3100
• Office of Emergency Management - 713.881.3100
• Houston American Red Cross - 713.526.8300 or 1.866.526.8300
• Flood Control - 713.684.4000
• Non-Emergency Houston - 713.884.3131 or 713.884.3143 or 713.881.3100
• Helicopter Rescue - 832.776.4587
• National Guard (Houston Center) - 713.884.4500
• Coast Guard - 713.578.3000 or 281.464.4854/4855/4856 ext 55

What about you?

It has been raining for a few days.  Today, my husband and I ventured out to see the flooding.  The gulley behind my house is high and if it rises over the bridge on the road next to us, we might be in danger of water getting into the house.  To give us a good idea of the rest of the city, we went to a few hotspots.  The drive north to my mother's house was impassable because of an overflowing creek.  An intersection before town, known for its flooding, was a solid few feet underwater.  Getting to the grocery store near us was relatively easy but the parking lot was half flooded.  Took a mental note that there was plenty of water though, but no gas at that HEB.  Some more driving found flooding in areas that are not normally affected.  It was strange.  Once home, after driving through a foot of water on our street, we settled in for more rain.  That's all it is, rain, rain, and more rain.  When I checked my WeatherBug app, it showed another ten days of this!  That's ten, people!  Double digits!  Houston can't take much more.

My personal experience with this storm, not as exciting.  I look outside, see rain, some wind, maybe lightning.  It is fairly quiet where I live.  I'm fortunate to be this lucky.  There are others not as lucky (if you have seen the news, you would know why).  While the waters are still rising, I believe my location is my salvation.  I live north of Houston (from what I have seen on the news. it feels like the worst is on the south, southeast side of town).  My home is on higher ground.  Crossing my fingers and keeping optimistic may have helped, but I have lived here for twenty years and I have never seen this amount of water dumped this fast.  And it is not over!  While the weather was still good on Saturday, my husband and I made a trip to Huntsville to visit family (they are still okay, though the water is close to getting inside their home).  The worst at my home has had is water getting in the living room. Some flashing was blown off the side of the house last night which gave water the opportunity to creep in.  Other negatives would be the cat freaking out and the fact that grocery stores have been stripped bare. *grumble*  But, I have marshmallows so I can't complain.

Wait, marshmallows?

Yeah!  I have a few rules I follow for disastrous situations such as Harvey.

1. Don't panic, stay calm
2. Be prepared
3. No need to be a jerk, unless someone asks for it
4. Be optimistic
5. If power goes out, roast marshmallows

Those rules have been helpful for the past twenty plus years.  Even made pizza before Ike in 2008.  Ate cold pizza for almost week before the power came back on.  Was a stroke of genius I tell you!  Genius!

You're crazy.

All fun and games aside, I understand the seriousness of the situation, thus being prepared and remaining calm.  The worst thing you can do in insane situations is panic.  Panicking only causes problems.  You cannot go get water without running into the same two things: lack of water and people shoving their way past you to get the last bottles.  Water is important, yes, but going about preparations calmly makes for an easier day.  Be optimistic that you will find what you need.  If your store does not have water, gas, and/or dry goods, you can find them elsewhere.  Don't panic.  Remember, confrontation is inevitable.  Be it in the form of pushing and shoving or someone cutting you off (both of which have happened to me within the past few days).  Simply explain that they should be patient because everyone is in the same boat but, in some cases, someone will be a jerk and you'll need to knock them down a few notches.  If the power does go out, have a campfire.  Roasting marshmallows always lighten the mood.  Plus, marshmallows!  Who wouldn't want some?  Give me mine with extra chocolate!

Breaking the Grey Wall, Again

"Your preparation for the real world is not in the answers you've learned, but in the questions you've learned how to ask yourself."  – Bill Watterson

Before I get to my post, I wanted to thank you for taking the time to click on the link to my blog and reading my thoughts.  I cannot say enough how much I truly, honestly, and really do appreciate it!

Okay, for the main reason for this post, the Grey Wall!

What "Grey Wall"?  Are you making a really bad Game of Thrones reference?

Actually, no, and, uh, I don't really follow Game of Thrones....  Please don't send Drogon after me!

As to the "Grey Wall," it is what I have renamed the fourth wall.  What is the grey wall?  Simple.  To me, you are on the other side of this post, the other side of this blog, on the side of the internet in my grey zone out of my reach.  You reside in this world beyond my own in a twilight zone of sorts.  Because I cannot see you and we are communicating through a bunch of 1's and 0's, you are a grey face, a person I know exists, but cannot physically interact with.  I would have to somehow dive into my computer to break down this grey wall with a virtual hammer which we all know can’t happen until science pulls some sort of sci-fi magic.

Are you trying to be Thor?

Not at all.  I'm not going to Hulk Smash through the grey wall either.  Besides, I'm a Loki fan!  I just want to install a window!  I want you to see me as more than 1's and 0's.  So let’s break the ice with an Author Interview!  Now, every good author does an interview, or so I’ve been told.  However, I do not want to come up with my own questions to make myself look amazing.  Nor do I want to find a generic list of questions to choose from.  Instead, I am tossing myself into the winds of fate and handing the questions to you, the readers, viewers, friends, and passersby.  Whatever questions you ask, whatever you want to know about me, my writing, what weather I like, or what I daydream about, I shall answer as truthfully as I can.  

You want us to give you an interview?  What are we supposed to ask?

Of course!  I'm more interested in what my audience wants to know about me than what I think y'all want.  Probably because I'm terrible at guessing.  For those who would like to read my original interviews, here's the short list:

• Smashwords Interview
• Author Interview #1

How will we give you our questions?

First place is on my blog.  Leave a comment or send me a message!  Next option is to through my Facebook page, or even through Twitter.  Don't worry about asking the same questions or repeating something from a previous interview.  Time has passed and things have changed.  Most answers will change.  You'll only find out if you ask!

When will we have answers?

Once I have gathered all these new and interesting questions.  I will have the Interview up quickly, that is if you consider “in a few weeks” quick.  I’m trying to not be a grey face hiding on the internet trying to sell my books, though I am going to keep promoting my work and inform my readers of new releases, updates, sales, and events.  After all, that is kind of one of the reasons why my blog is here, right

Emotions Turned into Fuel

"I don’t want to be at the mercy of my emotions.  I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them."  – Oscar Wilde

What is the best motivator for a story?  Is it that the main character has a goal he must accomplish?  Is it that the author gets his message across?  Is it to kill time while sitting in a waiting room?  Personally, I write because of emotion.  Emotion is my great motivator.  I want to feel something from a story.  It is difficult to make me cry, but if I smile while reading, that’s a win.  It is more than simply engaging me, it is making me feel.  Very few books have really tugged at my heartstrings.

Why emotion?

Why not emotion?  Are you not fueled by how you feel?  Do you sing from happiness or joy?  Do you push yourself forward by sadness or anger?  Emotion is a constant yet it fluctuates like a living being breathing in the world around us and exhaling how your environment, family, friends, situation, life affected you.  In my case, emotion had dug its claws deep and refused to let go.  It would become too much and I would shut down.  There were times when I tried hard not to feel.  I started writing because I needed an escape.  My emotions were transformed into words and poured onto the page.  Every time I needed a way to sort through my emotions, I wrote.  If you read my old work, you could tell how I was feeling when I wrote a scene.  By doing this one little exercise, I overcame my internal struggles.  If you have read a previous post of mine, you would know that I struggled with myself.  While I never saw a psychologist, was never diagnosed, I believe that I suffered from depression for a few years.  It wasn’t until after I discovered writing that my self-diagnosed depression began to disappear.  It was a surprising change.  I never asked for it and was not expecting anything.  I felt good.  Even today I return to writing when my emotions begin to pile up.  If there is nowhere to turn to, it is my happy place.  

Why not turn stress into motivation?

Stress did not grant me an outlet.  Throughout college, I dealt with more personal problems and with that stacked onto my school work, at times I felt like I was suffocating.  I tried to play soccer, as I had done in high school, though I felt sorry for our goalie when we warmed up and he tried to block my shots (let’s just say that my kick grew stronger and, without trying, my aim was, um, accurate).  After a while, my usual stress relievers didn’t do the trick.  Our recreational team was co-ed (both boys and girls) and we were always short on girls which meant that I would play a whole game without a break.  It was tiring.  It eventually became that I preferred to write my papers over go out. 

However, I did pick up reading again.  For some reason, when I was little, I enjoyed reading, then I just stopped. And hated to read.  Because of that, I have no idea how I graduated high school (especially considering all the reading material for my dual-credit English classes).  Funny enough, I was organizing those books on my bookshelf last night and when I held Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens in my hand, I laughed at how thick the book was.  No, I never completed the book, didn’t make it halfway, instead, I cheated and watched the movie (which was surprisingly close considering book to movie adaptations are not always accurate).  Anyhow, reading became a begrudged pastime for me.  I tried my first year of college, but after finishing a book and a half, I gave up.  Reading was annoying and the stress of failing my classes, amongst others, sucked the life out of me.  Books were just shelf filler for the next few years.  Then, third-year, living in my apartment, I found the book I had half-finished and thought to myself “Might as well,” so I finished it.  After that, oddly, I wanted to complete the series, which I did.  Then I went to a Borders closing and grabbed a few more books.  I kept reading.  My dad picked up on this and got me a Barnes & Noble Nook Color for my birthday that year.  I still have it and it still works.  It became my favorite possession.  I went everywhere with that thing.  I would read while waiting for class to start.  I would use it as a bible while at a church thing.  I loved that thing.  Reading was no longer annoying, but relaxing.  I still remember during Spring and Fall, I would grab a book, a drink, and a towel and go to the parking garage roof to read when the weather was nice.  Then I would remember the paper I was supposed to be writing and read for another hour.

During that time, my friend had asked me to help her with a club she had started on campus.  I agreed on one condition, that I would be allowed to work on my homework.  She agreed, which was a relief because I did nothing but writing papers and sleep.  Then the Character Creation Contest came around and that was where I stumbled into this world of writing.  Because of the bonus points for a background story, I started writing and would not stop.  I created my own world.  I had my characters experience trials and tribulations that I created.  I used them to tackle the monsters that were gnawing at the edges of my subconscious.  It helped me breathe.   

How did you decide that emotion was your motivation?

Recently, my curiosity got to me and I opened that first story.  Generally, it is a mess.  It bounces all over the place, but considering I had no idea what I was doing, it was alright.  I read over a few chapters and shook my head.  My grammar was amazing.  I wrote from a third-person point-of-view, which I somehow now dislike, and it worked.  I cringe at the story overall, but there are a few scenes that I am proud of.  The emotion that I felt as I read made me smile.  It was a hard time in my life, my characters suffered because of it, but the words were calming.  I felt my anger, my confusion, my tension from when I originally burned a hole on my keyboard.  Other stories had followed, each channeling a different emotion.  Most are incomplete.  Most will never be finished.  One, I have no idea what I was thinking when I started writing (it kind of leads nowhere).  The point, however, remains the same: that I write to escape the stranglehold that my emotions trapped me within.  Writing, focusing my energy on something productive, cleared my head.  I was able to think and address my problems through a different point-of-view other than my own.  I could ask my characters what they would do in certain situations and how their different personalities changed the outcome.  The more passive the character, the more accepting they were.  The more aggressive, the more confrontational.  One of my characters, Kali, started as an incredibly passive, accepting girl.  Over time, she developed, realized what was going on around her and why she was in that situation in the first place.  When presented with the opportunity to gain what was viciously ripped away, she was hesitant, but soon saw the good in the change.  Kali started following her own path instead of being dragged along by others.  She was the character that I channeled myself through the most and wished that I could idolize.  I wanted to grow myself.  I wanted to do my own thing and not be told what I had to do.  I knew that I had to view my world differently.  It took effort, but I managed to force myself to see the positive.  All the underlying emotions, they needed an escape and I gave it to them through my pen.

Did it help?

I accepted the challenge of changing.  From my first quarter at college, I had been struggling, fighting to rebuild my GPA.  Due to circumstances out of my control, my grades plummeted.  I didn’t think it was possible to have a GPA below a 1.  That’s right, it happened.  So, every day since the end of that first quarter, I struggled, fought to regain my academic stability.  By the beginning of my fourth year, I had managed to get it up.  I also changed majors twice, but I landed in a place where I was happy.  My major involved a lot of papers, which I did not mind.  I researched.  I wrote.  I actually enjoyed it.  Weird, I know, but who are you to tell me otherwise?  I was doing my thing!  I was doing well in school.  My social life had suffered, but I didn’t care.  I had a few good friends and I was happy.  I don’t need a crowd of people around me.  A friend to sit beside and study and eat seven-layer dip and joke with was all I needed.  Still, I dealt with my emotional demons, but I was content.  I wrote or read during my free time, whatever little I had.  I had become a happier person.  So, I kept writing.  Challenges still bombarded me after college and I kept my head low to avoid confrontation, but it was unavoidable.  My sanity slipped and what little joy I had grasped slid through my fingers which lead to me diving into my writing when I could.  The little space that I created revived me.  In those moments where I could sit and create, I found what I wanted, quiet.  It was a place where I could break the rules, be who I wanted to be, and bend the laws of nature.  I eventually got out of a negative situation and moved, but my love of writing never left.  Happy, sad, angry, or depressed, my pen has always given me a way to sort through the confusion.

An Empathatic Response to Simple Words

"First and foremost, we meet as human beings who have much in common: a heart, a face, a voice; the presence of a soul, fears, hope, the ability to trust, the capacity for compassion and understanding, the kinship of being human."  - Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel

It seems oddly appropriate that it has been raining the past few days.  A couple days ago, I went to a memorial for a friend's grandmother.  He and his brother were surrounded by family and friends who had come together for respect and support.  It was a nice service.  The dearly departed would have been proud to see her family together like that.  However, to be honest, I couldn't understand most of the service because, well, I only speak English.  High school Spanish has failed me!  But it is not the occasion of death that I wish to write to you about, it is what I felt when I sat there listening.  As I said, I could not understand the service.  Why?  Because I cannot understand Spanish, not very well at least.  I could tell you my name or ask for the bathroom, but a full conversation and I will end up staring at you like an idiot.  Words were nothing to me that day.  Why should I care if I could not understand?  No, I did not understand the words, but there was more, something deeper that I did understand.  I know two of the grandsons.  I know how much they loved their grandmother.  I saw the people who came to pay their respects.  While I knew next to nothing of her, I understood the love everyone had for this woman.  I wish I knew her better.  When her family stood and spoke about their lives with her, while being unable to understand, I saw the tears, the smiles, the flashes of memories behind their eyes.  It was beautiful.  I would pick up a word or three during their speeches and put together from their actions what they were saying.  The two words I understood the most were "Lord" and "heart."  This woman was loved.  She loved her family.  She loved the Lord.  She was a true matriarch.  

After the service, I met up with my friends.  Tears were still fresh in their eyes.  As men, I am convinced they were trying to hide their pain, but everyone knew how influential their grandmother was to them.  She was essentially a mother to those boys.  The pain they feel was mixed with acceptance, love, joy, and sadness.  I say joy because, just like their grandmother, my friends have a connection with the Lord.  Their grandmother was in a good place and they felt comfort in that thought.  From what I heard, she was where she belonged.

Aren't you just being sympathetic, not empathetic?

It is easy to see how I am sympathetic, which I was, but I also felt a sense of empathy toward them.  First, we need to see that there is a difference between sympathy and empathy.  Where sympathy is feelings of pity and sorrow of another's misfortune, empathy is a different animal.  Empathy is the ability to understand/recognize and share the feelings of another, just like stepping into the other's shoes.  Some people often confuse these two words.  I get it.  Before I figured them out, I used them interchangeably, just like anxious and anxiety (it took me long enough to figure these two out; it was embarrassing).  If you want to know more, here is an interesting Empathy Vs Sympathy article I found.  It even touches on compassion which is one step further than empathy.

"The great gift of human beings is that we have the power of empathy, we can all sense a mysterious connection to one another."  - Meryl Streep

Why do you think you're empathetic?

It was an emotional day for that family.  I understood that and felt sympathy.  However, I had recently lost my grandfather and had gone through this exact scenario within the past few months.  I know the pain they feel.  I know how their hearts feel like they are being ripped in two.  I get the tears they are shedding.  I know that losing my grandfather is not the same to them.  While I refuse to compare my grandfather's memorial/funeral with my friend's grandmother, the similarities from the emotion in the air tasted familiar.  It was the same as when I shed my tears.  It was heavy.  It was filled with the emotional tug-of-war of acceptance and the question of why.  The day I went to my grandfather's memorial, I cried, a lot, which is unusual for me.  Since high school, I somehow managed to shut off the urge to cry and would only do so under extreme circumstances.  I simply refused to shed tears.  But that day, the tears came.  It told me how much I loved my grandfather and how much I missed him.  My tears showed others how much I valued my relationship with him.  While there was tension at the memorial (as mentioned in a previous post), I can soundly say that, for at least an hour, my family was on the same page.  Once it was over, certain people went back to their "holier than thou" ways.  I still remember talking to a relative and her telling me "I have been so strong through all this."  Sigh.  Okay, this is going to sound a little cold but to be honest, those words mean absolutely nothing to me.  Who cares how strong you have been?  I know you and I know that you are not strong and that you are putting on a mask to make me sympathetic toward you.  It was an act.  I knew what she was doing.  I hated her for it, but my respect for my grandfather tipped my emotional scale enough so I wouldn't open my mouth.  That moment in the bathroom I know I will never forget because of what I felt; a mixture of sadness, hatred, anger, pity, loss, regret, a whole list of other emotions that could probably fill this article.  The one that sticks out above the rest, respect.  Respect for my grandfather.  If he had been standing there and I cussed this girl out, what would he have said?  What would he have thought of me?  Would I have disappointed him?  The entire process from his death to his burial was stressful and filled with anger.  It is sad if you look at it from the outside.  Yet, it was through this experience that I not only sympathized with my friends, I empathized with them by remembering my loss.  Stepping into the chapel, my mind went back to my grandfather and his memorial.  I remembered how it stung to see the casket.  I remembered how i had hoped it was a lie and my grandfather was playing another joke on us.  I remembered how the words spoken during the service affected me.  I remembered how touched I was to see who came to the service.  I could only imagine how my friends were feeling.  I would guess that our pain was similar, though vastly different.  They have a close, tight-knit family, unlike me, and I envy them for that but it doesn't matter.  I envy everyone who has a close, happy family (it is a flaw of mine that I have long since accepted).

Again, I understood none of their words during the speeches this past weekend.  I was one of the few white people in that chapel and one of the fewer who couldn't speak another language.  The race difference did not bother me.  Surprise, I'm used to being a minority.  I live in a city where, while white is the dominant race, the group of people I have chosen to associate myself, while it is majority Asian, there is a good mix of people from all over under one roof.  Yes, there is a language barrier at times, but we always manage to find a way around it.  It was strange at first, but once seeing who these people are, I became comfortable.  It was through this group that I met these friends.  We all have experienced the language barrier.  I know I experience it often with Chinese and it doesn't scare me anymore.  While I may joke with my bilingual friends that they could probably get me to agree to anything if they ask me in another language (cause I will smile and nod), at least one thing you should learn by stepping out of your comfort zone is that there is another level to conversation that transcends words.  A level that goes past a simple sentence and into the intention, the heart of the speaker.  The memorial was a perfect example.  I couldn't trust my ears because I couldn't understand, but I could trust my heart if I listened deeper.  I had to read past letters and words on the program.  Watching the family speak was all I had to do.

Emotion, like golf, is a universal language.

It is amusing how words could mean nothing, but the emotion, the passion behind them conveys the raw emotion within a person's heart.  Everyone has the capability to understand this when it comes to another human being.  When it came to the memorial, emotion was heavy in the air.  You could tell they all wanted to hold her one last time, to tell her that they loved her and that they did not want her to leave yet.  It is an unfortunate pain that we all experience at one point in our lives.  We all want more time with our loved ones.  Death is the only thing that tears us apart.  It breaks a piece of our heart and reminds us that it is a natural part of life.  We have to accept it, even if we do so resentfully.  It is a sensation that transcends words.  Transcends what is spoken and escapes as tears or anger or as an action that one cannot explain.  Emotion is that powerful.  That day, any lack of understanding languages was meaningless.  You understood.  It didn't matter that we came from different backgrounds.  It didn't matter if words were unable to convey the message to those listening.  We knew why we were there.  We understood what was happening.  I still feel sorry for them and I do wish they had a little more time with her.  I am glad that I was able to be a part of that memorial.  I believe that the grandmother is proud of her legacy because even through the tears and choked sobs, you understood the love and respect they had for their matriarch.

Everything is Fine

"Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose, or paint can manage to escape the madness, melancholia, the panic, and fear which is inherent in a human situation."  - Graham Greene

Have you ever hit a point where you tell yourself that everything is fine?

Well, I'm finally back at that point.  You see, when I started this blog, I had planned to publish a post once every week or so.  Clearly, that hasn't been the case.  Everything was fine, then life happened.  The unexpected hit and everything was flipped upside down.

Sigh.

I'll start my little tangent from the top.  There have been a few medical emergencies within my family.  If you know me, my family is my top priority.  I will drop everything for them.  So when I realized that something was wrong, life was put on hold.  My father has been in the hospital three times over the past few months.  The first trip, it was sudden.  As in he was fine Monday, then in the ER Saturday.  The doctors were worried.  The things they were asking me made me worry.  But come Tuesday, he was healthy enough to be discharged, but I was still concerned.  He almost died, not joking.  Then the next Saturday, only a few days later, he was back in the ER.  We know why he almost died twice in a week, but we don't know what caused it.  Cue the doctors.  Multiple doctor visits to try to find the cause of this mysterious illness just to have everyone say he was fine, he was healthy.  Me, I'm the one driving him around and listening to all this thinking not fine.  Because of what he has, I'm the designated chauffeur to make sure he gets places safely since one of the issues was him passing out.  Anywho, some time passed, nothing else happened, we breathe again.  Whatever it was had simply vanished.  We were in the clear.  We get a call from our doctor.  She tells us to get him to the ER now because his blood work told her something was severely wrong.  We go.  Now, the closest hospital to us is horrible.  It is a whopping two stars out of five at best, but we go because of, well, reasons and it should have been an easy fix.  Hospital says there's something else and my dad ends up staying for a few days.  It has been a couple weeks since and we are waiting for results and to be able to do more tests.

During this time, we are dealing with my aunt.  Okay, some quick background.  My grandfather passed away a couple days after Thanksgiving 2016.  He and my dad were very close, even through his dementia.  My aunt, however, had been hiding my grandparents from us for a while and when we manage to find out where they are and what happened, the tension started between my aunt and us. My grandparents love my side of the family.  I was glad that I was able to see my grandfather before he passed.  I am grateful that I was able to tell him that I loved him.  My grandfather was an amazing man.  But my aunt, she's the worst person I have ever met.  Because of her, there was no mourning period for us.  It was straight chaos.  Since my grandfather's passing, we learned of the extent of her greed, her selfishness, her stupidity, her tendency to behave like a toddler.  It takes a lot to piss me off, but this woman has managed to do so plenty of times this past year, including scream at me over the phone then hanging up on me after I call her out on her crap.  It is non-stop with her.  I worry about her caring for my grandmother.  I am convinced that the stress from my aunt is the cause of my father's health problems.  Ug!  It's like talking to a monkey!  A big, stupid monkey named, uh, I'll keep that to myself for privacy's sake (Emperor's New Groove reference, woot woot!).  I hate that we are knocking on the door of legal action.  It is going to create a rift within the family.  All because someone threw a tantrum.

Double sigh.

It's stressful.  We worry, but we have managed to pull through everything so far.

I hate that word now.  Fine.  What's fine anyway?  Living in a state where it could be worse?  Or better?  I want to be comfortable.  I don't want my chronic bad luck to strike five times a year.  I want to not need to worry about if my dad needs to go to the hospital.  I want to be able to enjoy a nice dinner with my husband.  I want to not worry about certain people invading my life.  I want to not want to punch certain people.  I want to live quietly with my husband and build a life with him.  He married into this, into this chaos of a family.  I know my family isn't simple or sane, or completely tolerable, but despite the obvious flaws, he saw me and was still crazy enough to marry me.  I love him so much.  He's such a strong man and has been my rock during all the insanity since our marriage.  Without him, I would be in a million pieces.

It's that word again.  Fine.

But it's more than fine, it's okay.

To get away from my troubles I did what I do and shoved my nose into my writing.  Yeah, yeah, I know it is my answer to everything, but it really does help.  I can shove my worries aside to live in my head.  I can play with my characters and create new situations and problems for them to wrestle their way out of.  That is my idea of fun.  I am still avoiding writing book three because I feel like I'm still in the wrong mindset for it, but my side projects are growing.  One is a collaboration with a friend of mine, he can draw, and I have kinda gone off on it.  Went from two small chapters to six in one day.  Hard to stay away from my usual romance on that one too.  Another project of mine, Infected, has also been receiving love.  It started off as a little idea where I could practice my horror themes, which I am struggling with honestly, and I quickly became attached to the unpredictable nature of the main male character.  That's my problem with writing, I like my characters too much and they tend to hide their life story from me.  Greedy little jerks.  Jerks that I love.  Well, mostly.  There is this one girl that I plan on killing off soon.  She has played her part and she has become annoying.  Or maybe I'm venting my frustration through her?

Besides my writing, I have taken on a couple other projects.  For instance, my sister rides horses.  She asked if I could blackout a picture for her.  For those who don't know, blacking out an image is blacking out everything except your focus.  She had a picture of her on her horse going over a jump so I blacked out everything, background, jump, sky, and left it so you only saw her and her horse.  Easy.  Now I'm being asked by others if I could blackout their pictures as well.  I guess I'm good with Photoshop!

I'm fine.

And that's what I have been.  I have been fine for years.  I had plenty of hardships to fight through and I have always been fine.  The mask I wore hid the grumpy, jealous, bitter, lonely girl I had become.  It took a decade, ten years to fight my way out from under that mask.  Ten years of living in the world of fine where the pain was expected.  No, I was never suicidal but I did have those days where I wanted to crawl under the covers and sleep the day away.  During that time, I learned that no matter what you go through, there will always, always be challenges.  It is how you tackle them that echo your inner self.  I try to avoid trouble.  I don't want to deal with the stress it will bring.  That is what my life has become again, troubled and filled with conflict.  I don't want to hurt anyone, especially myself.  I broke before.  I am still held together by tape, and not the good duct tape either.  I don't show my timid self because I have learned to hide it.  Very few people know what is under my mask.  While that mask still sits on my face, it is off-center, revealing who I am while ready to hide again.  I am fine.

My mask makes everything fine.

That mask, while under it I am safe, I still reach out to find who I am.  Again I return to my writing.  It was through words that I was able to sort through my troubles.  You can tell through my writing, if you look a little deeper, what I was feeling.  The first story I wrote is long.  I worked on it for years by throwing scenes together, writing chapters that didn't connect, venting onto paper.  It became my crutch.  Every so often I return to that world to see how my characters are (they're fine, by the way).  Some of those old scenes I am tempted to use again in another story simply because I love what I wrote.  Then I remember the mask.  I see it staring at me as I reread that first story.  That mask watches me and I smile.  I overcame a depression that I fought to hide from the world.  No one knew that I was struggling.  I never wanted anyone to know.  I liked my mask.  But the mask slipped as I wrote.  It transformed into words that held my pain, joy, sadness, and hope.  Emotions tinted my words.  They still do.  And I'm glad because fine became okay which became good.  Writing helped me out of my funk.

I have adopted an it could be worse attitude.  I have also trained myself to think positively about the situations I encounter.  While I know that train of thought isn't the case for everyone, it works for me.  I have seen how things can be worse.  I know things can always be better, but it is the what-ifs that scare me.  What-if things were worse?  Life would be so much different.  Different how?  Different better?  Worse?  Would I have wanted that difference?  In truth, some things I have considered and wanted for, but with the life that I lead now, I am quite content.  At least it is not a boring one!  Afterall, it could be worse.  I could not have who I have or be where I'm at and I am thankful.  Because without some of the hell I went through, I would have never met some wonderful people.  I may have never found writing.  I may have never found the happiness that puts the smile on my face at night.  While things are stressful now, I know that it could be worse.

While my mask always sits at the ready to tell the world I am fine, it cannot hide me from reality.  The stress and the worry that I know is coming will be suffocating but I cannot idly sit by and watch it run wild.  While I apologize for making this post long and about my personal problems, I do not apologize for the fact that writing this out makes me feel better.  No, I do not keep a journal.  My journal is my writing.  Writing is what keeps me balanced.  Writing makes me better than fine.

Phantom is Live!

I’m sooo excited!  I wanted to say something a week ago, but I wanted to make sure that it was available on multiple platforms first.  Book two of my Lost Gun series is Live!!

Phantom, Lost Gun #2  ($2.99)

Life was simple, until I loved her.

Ghost. The name of a man who is known for his ability to do the impossible. Of course, a hitman of his caliber must know how to keep his emotions in check. Especially to keep his heart closed and remain distant. Doing so made his job easy. Until he accepted a job to kill her. As a hostage, she had climbed his walls and Ghost realized he was no longer truly cold. He fell in love. Something he had sworn would never happen. This could not be him. He is not a good man. He enjoys torture. Enjoys the power of holding someone’s life in his hands. This girl, she gives him what he thought long lost. When he forgets who he is, Ghost stumbles. What to do? Betrayal? Or will he remember what he truly wanted?

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