Sunday, December 16, 2012


I doubt I have readers anymore, as I have been absent from my blog for a while. But on the off chance any of you are left..

You may notice a few things missing from my blog. Like about 20 posts. I'm not exactly sure why, but I've decided to revert most of them to draft. Something about trying to focus on the present and future, annot the past. And maybe trying to find an actual direction for my blog to go, rather than just floating around all willy-nilly.

I am going to give you (the maybe two of you that might see this) an update about, well, me. First and foremost, my boys are doing wonderfully. We've been through a lot of turmoil and I was terrified of how they may be affected by it all, but they are thriving. Well, they're still my little demons, hehe. And their doing well is definitely a big part of me doing well myself. I have acquired a job at the Senior Activity Center, and enjoy it there beyond belief. I'm learning to be less closed off, less terrified of people and places. I'm allowing people to enter my life. I'm... Healing. I'm still searching for myself, though, something i think I'll be doing for a good long while yet.

Thank you, those of you who've cared, read my numerous ramblings, and been there for me. And if you're just now stumbling across this blog, I'm sorry it's so dull, but i hope you bare with me for a while, because it may become something great.

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Dresden (part one)

She stares blankly
With cool glass eyes
Red painted lips
And black bow ties
Satin hair
Down to her knees
A silk corset
Holds in her screams
White porcelain skin
She has no flaws
Pretty pink polish
Hiding razor sharp claws

She never cries
She never laughs
She sits alone
The hours pass

A little girl
No more than six
Enters the shop
To take her pick
Her eyes light up
She's made her choice
"Time to go home,"
Her mother's voice

And as the girl straps her new doll in
Red painted lips begin to grin

I'm not sure what to call this one. (another poem)

This first one is very powerful, so um.. I don't know, be prepared or whatever. (this is me, being wordy :\ )

Daddy's standing in the kitchen
A cruel look upon his face
Yelling, oh so loudly
Features distorted with rage
I watch him hit my momma
See her crumple to the floor
Then he kicks her in the ribs
And she slams into the door

He tells her to get up right now
Says she doesn't even know
The pain he has in store for her
And he deals another blow

As I sit on the stairs and cry
I know there's nothing I can do
For this happens every day
It surely isn't new

But now there's something wrong
Something different than before
My momma just will not get up
She's lying still upon the floor
I curl myself into a ball
And tears roll down my face
I know that if I make a sound
I will take my momma's place

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Random music videos! Yay!

In the mood for some awesome music? Why, so am I!
So here are some random AWESOME songs by random awesome artists.

Liquor Store - Devil Doll
Folsom Prison Blues - Johnny Cash
Momma Knows Best - Jessie J
Sexy Silk - Jessie J
Johnny's Got a Boom Boom - Imelda May
Jump, Jive an Wail - Brian Setzer Orchestra
Give Me More - Apartment 26

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Nearing 22.. about to pass up my sister.

On February 21st of 2007, while sitting  in our living room on a seemingly normal day, my mother and I got one of the most devastating calls of our lives. My sister, Tiffany, just a month shy of turning 22, was dead.

Our family wasn't notified of much more than that, just that she had fallen off of a train in California, landed in a marshy area, and drowned (my sister was a train hopper). We immediately started making calls and checking into stuff, but had our heads butted by police at seemingly every turn. The story we ended up with was very fishy. Initially the circumstances were supposedly that my sister was in a car with only one other rider. He was completely unharmed, and gave the police a statement. He said that my sister was drunk off her rocker, and simply fell from the train. The since they were transients, I guess the police decided it's not exactly a death that requires much looking-into. Who cares about a transient, right? Anyway, then we got the tox reports. My sister's blood alcohol level was zero. No alcohol, no drugs. So this dude's story didn't check out. But, the police had already let him go, and gave ZERO follow-up.We also found out that there was, indeed, another person on the train with them. The police still didn't give a hoot.
My mother today still believes that my sister was murdered, and is still missing out on the closure one should get when your eldest child dies. I'm not convinced she was murdered, but I am absolutely sure the guy she was with is a dodgy sort, and should have been looked into further. Something happened, and we deserve to know what it was.

So my 22nd birthday is at the end of this month. I am about to be older than my sister. Birthdays have never been exactly a happy time for me, but this one seems just.. so absolutely wrong. I don't WANT to be older than my sister. I shouldn't have to be. My sister should be living her life, flourishing like she always has.
My sister is probably the most amazing person I have ever met. I feel cheated that she isn't here to be an aunt to my children. A sister to myself, a daughter to my mother. And she should always, always be my OLDER sister.
I hate this.

This is a link to the only page I could find that still had a copy of the article from her death (note what some asses are saying - that helps the healing SO much :/)

And this is my beautiful, amazing sister, who's life got cut short and we'll probably never know why

Monday, December 5, 2011

Author Photos are Ruining My Books.

Okay, maybe I'm really shallow. It's definitely a possibility. But I'm seriously starting up a movement to have author photos removed from books.

Why, you ask? Well, let me start off by saying I'm not into steamy romance novels (we'll get to why that's relevant in just a second). I actually read urban fantasies.. and a couple mysteries. But it doesn't really seem to matter what genre of book you read - excepting young adult books, and then even some of those - because they all seem to have at least one racy scene in it.. if not a whole lot more.
And this is where my shallow personality comes into play. I care too much who's writing those scenes. When I was roughly 15, I was really getting into Sidney Sheldon books. I was under the impression, for whatever reason, that Sidney was a woman's name. Let me tell you, it's a real shock to the system to be reading a sex scene where the super hot woman is giving a dude a warm-water-in-her-mouth blow job, and find out that THIS guy had the dirty mind to write it:

Or that this woman has the thoughts of fox demon, dragon, and Svartan on witch foursome sex scenes.

Obviously, everyone has a dirty mind at some point, right? And I don't expect all authors to magically look like Scarlett Johansson or Ryan Reynolds. But it doesn't mean I like thinking about 80 year old men writing blow job sex scenes.

It's not just that, either. Authors (for me, at least) are kind of an imagination thing. Just like you picture a character in your head, and you get mad when the person on the cover art just doesn't measure up, the author is the same for me. I picture them looking a certain way, and the actual photo of them never measures up. It's like a kid meeting his favorite super hero - only to find out it's just some drunk in a suit.

So yeah, I'm a horrible, shallow person who only cares about appearances. You got me. Now who wants to join my movement?

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Old Poems? Sure.

So I decided to post some of my old poems, since my best and most wonderful friend says that she's upset that I haven't written anything in forever. They're not great, so feel free to skip over them if you wish, my two or so readers.

It's times like these I cannot seem
To face these fears inside of me.
Haunting me. Daunting me.
Pulling me. Pushing me.
Far beyond my breaking point
I cannot face these fears tonight.
Marred and scarred and pulled apart
You've broken my soul
And ripped out my heart.
I need to forgive but I cannot forget
The pleasure you took
When you made me a wreck.
You ruined my life. You ruined my dreams.
Caused sleepless nights of muffled screams.
I just want all this pain to end.
Want my body, soul, and mind to mend.
But it's times like these I cannot seem
To face these fears inside of me.
So I'll just go on another day
Keeping inside this unending pain.

 Insult to Injury
I cried another tear today when I listened to our song.
I don't understand what happened; I don't understand what went wrong.
Out of all the people I trusted, you're the one who hurt me most.
I don't understand why you did it, or where you got the balls to boast!
I just couldn’t take it any longer living in the hell you put me through.
And yet I'll never know another love like the love I had with you.

I cried another tear today, when I listened to our song.
And now I understand what happened, I know exactly why things went wrong.
You made me love you more than life itself, doting on you every day.
And when tomorrow comes it will be too late, because I'm going to make you pay.
And then you'll know how much it hurt to feel life slowly drain away.
And in your last conscious thought you'll know why I cried when I heard our song today.

And when I look into your eyes
I know I'm happy to be alive..

You saved me from myself, you know
Held on to me and wouldn't let go.
I was on the brink, looming over the edge
But you gave me hope, with all that you said.
I gave you my heart, my soul and my mind
Praying that you wouldn't leave me behind.

You forgave me all my trespasses
and my not-so-gracious past.
Told me everything would be okay
and that forever, our love would last.

You made me want to live again.
Allowed my body, soul, and mind to mend.
You picked up the pieces of my broken heart.
And together, with you, my new life will start.

I'm not the girl I used to be..

Open me up and you will see.
Look down deep inside of me.
Your gaze will linger on my heart.
And this is where it all will start.
Cut me up and tear it out.
Sew my mouth so I won't shout.

Hold my heart bleeding in your hands.
Hear the message that it sends.
It speaks to you of hours past.
Asks if only you will last.
Wonders why you cannot see
These feelings deep inside of me.

Now I'll take you on a journey.
Which will end upon a gurney.
Slipping, sliding, through the past.
Leaving you completely aghast.
This is how I used to be.
And this is what you've done to me.

Another loved one died last night.
He won’t leave me alone.
Won’t stop following, torturing.
He’s after me again, I know.

I can feel him right behind me
As I try to get away.
I know I must if I wish to live
To see another day.

I run faster, climb higher
But I can feel him keeping close.
In this house that has become my prison
Where I am the unwilling host.

At the top of the stairs I reach the attic door.
And I know he’s close behind.
I will myself to open it.
Not knowing what secrets I will find.

Darkness swirling all around me
Encroaching more and more.
The feeling almost suffocating
As I open up the door.
But all I see is a mystic mirror
Standing low upon the floor.

Fearing the answer I shall find
I kneel down upon one knee.
I look into the mirror..
And see the killer..

It is me.

So there you have it. Please keep in mind these were written when I was roughly 15-18 (hence the complaints from said best friend). I actually DO have a couple I've written in the past couple years.. I'll get them on here.. eventually.