Love is a strange master, and human nature is still stranger.
——Edgar Rice Burroughs

Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized, Writing

Miranda – Science Fiction Short Story

He entered the rocket ship determined to make his mark on the world. He tried not to think of the future, or the past. What is gone, is gone, and can never be again.


A melancholy settled over her as she recalled his youthful figure stepping into the entryway. The large metal door sealing shut; shutting him away from her life forever.

Some told her that he didn’t really love her. If he did, he wouldn’t go. She knew this was important to him. This trip into space was always his goal. She was the unforeseen unplanned accident. And while she liked to think he may give up his dream for her, she also knew she didn’t have the strength to ask it of him. He might resent her, loath her even. She might feel guilty every time she saw his gaze wander aimlessly, searching for the stars.

Instead, she chose to suffer. He might come back early. It was possible. Of course, life on earth would move as it always had. But for him? Everything would be preserved, and prolonged. Would he still want her?, she wondered.


He strapped himself in the cryogenic chamber carefully. To study the nearest solar system even from a distance would require a long sleep. Miranda was dead to him. He had to think of her that way. There was a chance he could come back in her lifetime, but he felt that he should prepare for the worst case scenario. He locked the hood which would fill his sarcophagus-style bed with cold. He would sleep a while, unless an accident happened to the craft, whereas he would be awakened. Assuming, that was in working order.

He knew the dangers. Being an explorer has always been fraught with disaster and near-death. It was this that made up part of the appeal for him. Even if he wasn’t frozen, time would be slowed for him compared to the frenzy upon the earth. Freezing him just gave him more years to get into the proper position.

The craft was designed to send signals to earth once a year to relay its progress, and to remind the earth that it was there and would return.


At first the days were long, and filled with loneliness. She missed him, and life became a matter of routine. One ate because that was expected. One worked to help fill the hours. And the nights were for dreaming, her favorite time of day.


He was awakened by the sensation of warmth spreading through him. He felt like he just laid down and now was cheated of a decent night’s rest. He was beyond sleep, more like the eternal sleep of the dead, and now he was resurrected to serve his purpose.

He glanced out the port window and gasped at the apparent closeness of the binary star system. Two suns sharing power equally over what looked like an expanse of nothing. He panned the lenses further away and verified the few planets. They were rocky and small in appearance. He guessed there may be a gas giant further out, much like his own system. He didn’t see the paradise of water and clouds, but then he hadn’t been expecting to. One sun was too hot, and the other too cool.

This mission didn’t have to be manned. He knew that, but he wanted to be the one t o see it with his own eyes. He had to know that space travel, albeit limited, was still possible. Strange, a thought of Miranda’s smile crept into his mind. He dismissed it easily. He felt he had only said “Good Bye” yesterday. He knew this wasn’t correct, but his body’s system of time couldn’t mourn her yet.

He took many pictures, and sent probes to gather samples of soil from the planetoids. He requested that one be named Miranda, then destroyed the request. This was larger than any unqualified sentimental feeling. He never meant for her to get that close. He never meant to hurt her. He shifted the guilty feeling away. She knew of his plans. She knew how important this was to him. He calmly waited.


The day came when she couldn’t quite remember what his voice sounded like. She couldn’t cry anymore. It all seemed so vague, like it had happened to someone else. She looked at photos in an attempt to refresh her memory, but she could no longer conjure up a scene, or see the glint in his eye which she had suffered so much for. Sometimes he haunted her dreams, but in the dream nothing had changed. She knew it was all ready too late.


He returned earlier than expected. His rocket was carefully received. He had sent the information back and the earth got it shortly before his own arrival. The last ten years or so for him felt like little more than a week. He knew that more than ten years of time had passed here. The people dressed differently, looked at him with boredom and disinterest despite his long journey. The crowd was small, mostly comprised of scientific minded academics. He stepped off the launch pad in a state of fear. It was as if he had landed on an alien planet.

No one knew him, no one cared about his achievement. They had  mathematically deduced the location of the planets around the binary system he had viewed. The pictures were nice, but the people had seen artists’ renderings which were more stunning.

He had no real home, and no friends. He thought of Miranda. One of the more zealous academics had arranged a hotel room for him, and he gladly accepted. He slept as if he hadn’t slept in years. The rest of the dead doesn’t have the satisfactory drowsiness, only an emptiness and lack of dreams.

He awoke and was handed some artificial tasting coffee by a sudden robotic arm. He had clothes in the new free flowing style laid out for him on the bed. Perhaps by another robotic arm or an apologetic maid who carefully avoided waking him from his deep slumber?

The academic waited for him in the lobby with an old woman, who looked ill. The academic stared at him like a child in a museum filled with dinosaur bones. He stood, and cleared his throat noisily. “I would like to introduce you to someone. She has given most generously to the scientific community, through endowments and organizing some awareness of your particular program.”

The woman looked about to faint, and not at all pleased to be making his acquaintance. Her eyes stared in horror, as if his visage was that of a monster, or a ghost. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but he couldn’t place it.

“Miranda,” the academic was the only one smiling now, “Derrick.” It all made sense in a horrible sort of way. He had known this might happen, but he had hoped she would be dead. He wanted to remember her beautiful. He didn’t know this lady. She had her hand on her heart, and slipped to the floor. The academic ran to get help, while Derrick stood dumbfounded. Her hand reached out toward him. He backed away from it like it was some sort of sentient lizard groping toward him.

“I don’t know you. You aren’t her.” His mind swirled in confusion. Hadn’t it been only days since he saw her radiant young face? He knew this would happen, yet there was no preparing for this moment.


She felt her tears slide down her tired face. The pain in her chest returned. This young man before her, looking at her in disgust and fear appeared the same as when she last saw him. His face brought back the dim memories. The lack of recognition caused her long dry well of tears to miraculously renew. She had been dead inside all the years he was away, and now that he was back she had forgotten how painful life was. He looked ready to bolt from the room, yet he didn’t move. She reached out with the strength left in her, and he yelled at her some words that her mind could no longer translate.

This act of dying was long overdue, and the kind professor did all he could to save her. What the doctor and the professor, and all the nurses and robots didn’t know was that she didn’t want to be saved. She didn’t want to picture that awful look on his youthful face.

She wished the professor had let her remain anonymous, yet seeing Derrick one last time was something she had to do. He had ceased to be a real person to her, but more of a dream. A loving, kind dream. The reality of the strange boy was all it took to bring back the pain, and the loss.


They named the first verified planetoid of the binary system Miranda in her honor year’s before. Her name would always come up in discussions about the expedition, and he would be reminded of the frightened old woman instead of the Miranda he wanted to remember.

He tried to live life as normally as he could, but he felt he hadn’t ever quite made it home. Too much had changed while he did not. He was isolated in this foreign alien world.


The professor thought he would give Derrick a long overdue visit. No one answered, so he knocked louder. Finally, getting concerned, he called the police to open the door. They found him seated at an old fashioned wooden desk, with an antique gun in one hand, and his bloodied head on the desk, laying sideways as if he was taking a much needed  nap from some taxing academic endeavor. He had been dead for some time, but not having any close friends or loved ones no one thought to stop by until the professor.


Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized, Writing

The Dagger — A Fantasy Short Story

Her eyes searched the night sky for answers to questions that she dare not ask aloud. The Gods blew their cruel breath down on her full force, billowing her long dark hair behind her like the flag of some long lost nation. Her eyes moved from the tiny twinkling stars onto the large round luminous moon, noticing the craters of some disaster from the first days while her mind remained numb to the world.

Her love, her one and only in a long lifetime of waiting, was dying somewhere down below her. There was nothing that could be done and the helplessness forced her to retreat into silence while the night continued unabated.

The cruel twist of the dagger could be felt through her own flesh, despite the fact that it hadn’t happened to her at all. It was the bane of her people, this intense empathic connection to others. It was more painful because of who was dying. She made no noise, only listened to the music of the wind as it poured through the nearby trees.

She sat on the grass slowly, and watched the moon. She saw the approach of the others, some heavily bandaged from the recent battle, some unscathed. They nodded at her, but she all ready knew what they were going to say.

He was gone, the Gods had claimed him and she could still feel the dagger being removed. She could feel the last painful breath as it left his lungs. She could feel his eyesight darken, and the cold, cold wind on his skin.

She nodded in return. A kind elder placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You may stay with me tonight. It is cold out here. We will take care of you. It will be all right. There will come a day of vengeance. But, first you must rest.”

“No. My days are done; there is no need for vengeance. I feel nothing. There is no reason to go on. Nothing to live for.”

“Nonsense. There will be others. You will live. It is what he would have wanted for you.”

“No.” She was dragged by a kind wise woman whose strength remained within her old bones despite her fragile appearance. She was rushed past the men who were digging a long trench for the bodies of the dead. There were too many to bury in the proper ritualistic fashion, it had to be a shared grave for all.

She found her knees bending with the old woman’s and she followed, all the time thinking, “no.” None of this could be happening. She was at home, cooking a simple soup when she saw him in her mind. She saw the brute stab him in the heart with a sharp dagger, felt it being twisted in his gut, to make sure the wound would be fatal. She saw his friend kill the enemy while the dagger continued to twist. Agonizing pain swept through her. She felt her feet shift out of underneath her, felt her breath grow faint, and she fell. She fell onto the hard kitchen floor, the sound of her bubbling soup long forgotten.

In a daze she left her home, and walked up the hill, to look at the moon and feel the pain, waiting, as she had waited for many nights. Waiting for news of the most recent battle. News of victory. Now, she needn’t wait. She knew all ready. The morning found her much the same. She said no when the woman spoon fed her oatmeal, but that was all she would say. Everyone expected her to snap out of it, to one day breath life again, to look at the sun instead of the moon.

She found herself being moved with the rest of the village. They lost the battle and had to flee their homes. The information entered her mind and left again. She said nothing. No one talked to her anymore, but they talked around her much like adults do around children who are deemed too young to understand. She knew, but no longer cared. She still felt the dagger, and the twisting, and the pain. She couldn’t sleep, yet she couldn’t awaken. She waited for the Gods to claim her, but they were indeed cruel, and did not.


The old woman was placing her belongings into a makeshift hut, a temporary home near the fort of an ally tribe. They would be well protected here. Life would continue as it always did. The land may not be the same, but the people were, and the people always managed to make themselves at home.

This wasn’t their first relocation, nor would it be their last, she knew. Her charge lay near the fire, not saying a word. Her eyes remained open to the world and her breathing was regular, but if anything went on inside that head, no one knew of it. The old woman sighed.

It was the next day when she went to feed her and found her lying on her stomach. She gently turned her over and found somehow, a sharp dagger had been shoved hard into her breastbone, and the life was gone from her large vacant eyes.

The wise woman closed them, uttered a prayer and took the pale fingers off the handle grasped so tightly by cold hands. The old woman’s tears fell onto the dirt floor, causing a small puddle of mud to appear. She carefully removed the dagger, and examined it closely. Odd, it was the same style as the one that killed the young woman’s husband. The very same style, the crude bone hilt and the slight curve of the blade.

How could it have gotten here? The old woman certainly hadn’t kept it, and how did she not hear the killer enter? Why would anyone want to kill the silent woman? Nothing made any sense. If the woman had killed herself, how did she come upon this blade?


It was over now, the waiting, the wind was no longer cold. It would no longer blow her hair around wildly. And it no longer bothered her at all.



Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized, Writing

Excerpt of a scene from my fantasy novel

This scene is one of my favorites from my novel, because part of me loves sadness, and I find it moving. I’ve been thinking of just pulling scenes out and re writing the rest of it. It is such a massive mess, over 250,000 words written many years ago, 2001 to be precise.

Still Telmishei is one of my favorite characters. I tortured this poor guy in a couple novels actually, I seem fond of torturing him. I almost feel bad. Actually, I added clips of several scenes just for some context. There is another chapter I’d like to find, and excerpt here because I doubt it will actually make it into the final draft. Tertiary characters at best, but it has some philosophical discussion that I like, but, otherwise is too much of an outlier unfortunately.

So hear goes..

“You mean to you, Telmishei. Our time was years ago. I’m flattered you still remember. I found you, not much different from Diamtur. In a family that would have killed you as a child had they known. I have never met a family that hated magic more than the Razshai’s. Your first talent was the portal of worlds, was it not? How old were you, Telmishei? Maybe seventeen, sixteen?”

“How old were you, that was the question. I remember. I offered to marry you, and you turned me down. A rude awakening for a boy heir.”

“To the most powerful clan in the land. Yes, that was sweet. This is no different, only I am the one getting turned down.”

“How old are you?”

“It is rude to ask a lady her age, Telmishei. Didn’t your mother teach you anything?”

“Don’t tease me anymore, or I might show Lorune how it is done.” With this he laughed, for he and Jannhilae had known each other for so long.

He kissed her lightly on her soft chocolate colored hair and went to his horse. He’d kept the King waiting too long as it was.


“Good night, Telmishei. We will meet again tomorrow night.” Shaih left with the King, Diamtur left in the other direction. Telmishei turned to Jannhilae.

“My offer still stands. Give Lorune a break. I am all alone here, and I miss you. There is no one here, not even Shaih.”

“Telmishei, you had no interest in me until a few days ago. Are you really that simple? Find another girl, you’ve never had trouble before.”

“I took you as a given, and for that I am sorry. We have always been there for each other. Spare him this night, and we can remember old times.” He saw she was tempted despite herself. What woman didn’t dream of having men fight over her? Lorune didn’t want her, but Telmishei did. In the end she turned away.

“Telmsihei, I like you this way. Perhaps I will consider your offer some other time. I wouldn’t want you to take me as a given.” Telmishei watched her leave reluctantly. Maybe he was still the boy to her, thinking that being a lord was enough to get the girl.


“Jannhilae, come with me to my tent. I would like to speak with you.”

“Why, my lord, of course. Excuse me, Lady Orshei.” Jannhilae stood up slowly and walked to the exit toward Telmishei.

Once they both were in Lord Razhshai’s tent she glared at him.

“How did you know Arousei was Lorune’s?”

“His thoughts aren’t guarded. He was always obsessing over Daemia, who hadn’t loved him.”

“Ah, the tainted blood, and so on. So, why were you with him, Jannhilae?”

“Oh, Telmishei, do you not have sight behind those violet eyes of yours? Aren’t I more lovely than you remember?”

“And, Lorune has aged considerably. He is always tired.”

“Yes, he hasn’t noticed at all, but when he is with me, he feels young, but after he is older I’m afraid.”

“The secret of your youth? How much have you stolen from me, I wonder?”

“Telmishei, you are one of us. Stealing from you, would only hurt us. I have from time to time, not meaning to, really.”

“Yes, I am not much older than Lorune, yet I look much older. He does seem to be catching up to me, though. I ask again, how old are you Jannhilae? You seemed the same twenty something maid when I was sixteen.”

“I was a little older than you are now, perhaps. Now, I am older still, and it takes more energy to keep up my  maintenance than it used to.”

“Lorune isn’t here. I have realized that I love you, because you are like me. Others fear me, you understand me.”

“Would you still, if you saw my true age, Telmishei? Would you have still loved me at sixteen, if I looked older, with grey in my hair?” Telmishei had to admit to himself, that he wouldn’t have. Not at sixteen. He wouldn’t have seen her that way.

“That was then, we are here now.”

“Very well,” she reached out, and took his hand. He felt the energy course from her into him, and he saw her age speedily. Her hair lost its curl, turned grey and thin. Her skin grew taut and stretched tightly over her bones. She looked like a worn wooden doll ready to break apart with the smallest breeze.  Her teeth were long and yellow.

Instinct made him want to recoil from her, and tear her hand away from his, but he resisted.  Instead, he bent over her, and kissed her on the mouth. He felt the energy start to course in the other direction and felt her lips plump and her cheeks soften. When he pulled away, she was beautiful again, perhaps even more so.

He heard someone shout outside his tent. ‘They will go away,’ he hoped but they did not. “The King summons you, Razshai.”

“I must go, but please wait for me. I will be back soon.”


He entered his tent to find it empty. Hadn’t he told her to wait? he walked over to the women’s tent. “Jannhilae, I thought you were going to wait for me.”

“I will return soon, Lady Orshei. Good bye, Kalowen.” Jannhilae stood reluctantly it seemed, and went to the exit of the tent.

“Telmishei, I am sorry. Shaih has told me  of my doom. Years ago, understand, I made a pact with Keltorill, the God of Death. I may retain my life and youth through others’ life force. If I didn’t now, I would surely die in moments. You saw how I was. There is a price for everything, Telmishei.”

They entered his tent, she seemed uncertain. “Telmishei, I am sorry. My price was that I could use others, but not truly love them.”

“Does it matter? One more time, for the years we’ve had.” He saw that she was crying, and he had never seen her cry before. “Oh, Telmishei, but I do love you. You kissed me, as I was when I thought no one would. If only I..”

They were on his blankets, and he loved her. He kissed her, and had her, and when he was done, he noticed she was quiet. He moved away from her to see what was wrong, when he saw that her hair was grey and brittle. It was coming off in his hands in clumps. Her skin was like clay, and crumbled when he touched her. Before his eyes her bones cracked and broke into a fine grey powder. Where she had been was nothing.

He kept trying to find her in the powder, calling her name over and over. “No, where are you? Jannhilae! Jannhilae. Come back, come back. Where are you?”

He frantically searched his tent, and found her clothes. They still had her scent on them, and he hugged them to him in a tight embrace. The tears wouldn’t stop. She had tried to warn him, had avoided him for quite some time. Shaih had known. Had told him to stay away in fact. Told him, that it was his flaw. If only she had told him, but she had. And it was too late.

Time passed, and yet he just stayed where she had been, not knowing what else to do. He saw light coming from the bottom of the tent flap. It was day and he would have to move, but he didn’t want to.

“Telmishei, Telmishei, we had best be going. We cannot keep the King any longer.” It was Shaih. He didn’t know what to say. He took down his wards so that Shaih could enter his tent unharmed.

Shaih entered, and didn’t seem too surprised. He had probably been expecting it. “Telmishei, let me have a look at you. Jannhilae made a pact with Keltorill, sooner or later he claims all.  She only put off the inevitable.”

“I loved her, I killed her. Why hadn’t you told me?”

“You wanted to decide your own fate. You didn’t want to know, and I did hope I was wrong. We could have used her in the war. Come over here, Telmishei. I could see what she saw in you, now. She has given you a parting gift.  You don’t look a day over sixteen, my lord. Like when she met you, I’ll bet. She was a little sentimental it seems. All that energy has to go somewhere. That does leave us with some explaining, I’m afraid.”

“What are you talking about? Nothing matters anymore.”

“Now, that isn’t the proud lord I remember. Telmishei, wake up. Look at your hands. Your hair is thick and black, you are a very pretty boy. It’s too bad you like women.”

Telmishei did look at his hands. They were young, and his voice was smoother, and he knew it was true. Many men would have loved a second youth, but Telmishei would have traded it all for Jannhilae.

“What will we do, Shaih?”

“Let’s make up something. You can be one of your bastards, and we’ll say Jannhilae ran off with Lord Razshai.”

“The King is bound to  look for Lord Razshai.”

“The King will know the truth tonight, Telmishei. I’ll even give you your own horse. And, we’ll call you Telmishei. Common enough for a mistress to curry favor with her lord by naming her brat after him.”

“As you say.”



Posted in Life, Uncategorized

Giving Thanks

As I recover from over eating and begin to think about this holiday of Thanksgiving, which was made a national holiday by Abraham Lincoln in an attempt to heal a fractured nation, I ask did it work? I’m not sure, but I do like the essence of this holiday regardless.

I believe gratitude is important and giving thanks is one way of expressing gratitude which I try to do for at least a few minutes each day. I think it is very important to stop and take stock of what you have, why you have it, and to remind ourselves that we are blessed.

That no matter how little material things you may have, the fact that you can read this, that you most likely have electricity and access to the internet, that hopefully you had food in your belly and water to drink is in fact something wondrous. Something as simple as being able to breathe can be taken for granted, but it is something we unconsciously do thousands and thousands of times each day.

Even if we are more privileged than this basic level, if we have a job, and an income, a vehicle or the ability to support a family, that is significant. There is someone out there who wishes they could do this or had that, that is just a dream of theirs but a reality for some.  Others are even more blessed and have a surplus income and what seems like a dream life.

Whether they are happy or not only they can know. I do not have this blessing. Sometimes I wish I had more money because I feel the stress of paycheck to paycheck survival and no matter if I get a raise or a windfall, something seems to always happen where these reserves are suddenly needed and therefore need to be used up.

Life does have a funny way of working out, and I truly believe if you practice gratitude every day you are less likely to take your life for granted, are more likely to appreciate what you have, and are more likely to be happy with your life because you know how lucky you are, or how things could always be worse.

We are all survivors of our own maze which is customized specifically for our trials and tribulations. One person’s journey will not be like another’s, so even if someone lives in a mansion and seems happily married and seems to have everything going for them, it is important to know you do not know their journey, you can’t know what they are going through or where they came from or where they will be in the future. Someone that is begging on the streets may actually be happier and appreciate the sandwich in their hand at that very moment from a kind stranger, whereas the person in the mansion could be a prisoner  of a debilitating depression.

I believe true wisdom comes from learning from our mistakes and withholding judgment. Knowing our own journey, and being the best we can be every day. Doing the right thing even if it isn’t the easy thing, and always thinking of the consequences of our actions and who they might effect and how. But withholding judgment of another’s actions while we refocus on our own.

So what am I grateful for? I am grateful for a family that loves me even when I make a poor choice. They may berate me or roll their eyes, but I know when I am broken down someplace they will answer their phones and help me out in a moment’s notice. Not everyone has that.

I am grateful for a healthy, wonderful ,smart son, even though he can be a challenge but there are some who have not been as lucky. I am blessed that he is healthy. I can only imagine the pain of parents who aren’t as fortunate.

I am grateful that I have a roof over my head with heat and light, a working fridge and food to eat, water to drink, a working car, a decent job, and the ability to write words. And an audience willing to read these words.

I am grateful for my health, for still feeling young at heart, for being able to still love and be loved. I know I am capable of it and able to accept it which is something. I have not been hardened or jaded by the past. Not everyone can say that. I am alive. Every day is a gift. I will try harder not to waste this gift because it is precious and not something which can be replaced.


*Hugs to all. And Happy Thanksgiving!*







Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized, Writing

Writing prompt 6, a poem (ps im not a poet)

Alphabet Poem

Write a 26-line poem using all the letters of the alphabet. Have the first line start with the

letter “A,” the second “B,” the third “C,” etc.


Admiring the view of the sunrise, red star in bloom

Basking in the sunshine and rays of love caressing the skin

Casually examining the mountains reaching for the heavens with icy fingers

Dealing with the absence of a lover feeling the love of the freedom that comes with distance

Effortless beauty of blue skies and blue eyes

Finishing a cup of coffee slowly savoring the bitter taste of being alive

Gazing at the mountain tops examining the white tops of forever

Higher than the tallest trees but oh so far away from me

If only they were nearer I could climb higher and lift myself to a higher place

Journey of the mind’s eye into a paradise where sun meets moon and dances the night away

Knocking on heaven’s door and waiting to be let in

Leaving too soon and back to earth in a rocket ship of my own making

Moon in full glory shining down upon me but oh where has my sunshine gone?

Nowhere and no one to witness this pain of separation of something so simple and true

Only one view at a time cannot have heaven and hell on earth, only one rocket to the moon

Passionately awaiting the sun with its rays of warmth to fill my cold heart

Questioning existence and the point of it all, what if this is all there is?

Reveling in the aroma of coffee mixed with flowers blooming and the endless possibilities of an unwritten future

Striving for equilibrium and security but yearning for passionate adventure

True to ourselves first, others second place which will finish first?

Universal abundance and glory can be had in dreams easily enough

Vitality like sunshine and moonbeams combined to fill my being with true love and eternal hope

Wonder at the beauty of the world and how I could be a part of it all, one piece of a million to make up a whole dream

Existence based on love and loving others while being true to the self

Yelling at society and the rules imposed on the unwilling, individuals over the group can feel the world instead of suppression

Zealous in adventure and life and living and doing and being the sun and the moon



Posted in Life

I am still Among the Living…

Just wanted to reassure any passersby that I am still around, still kicking, still thinking, writing, and living.

Been internalizing some thoughts, and just taking things day by day. Sometimes it is easy to get caught into the routine of things and I have to make myself stop and think about where I am at, and where I want to go. Figure out what I need to do to get where I would like to be. And now my son factors into any decision short or long-term that I make, because it directly impacts him in many ways. I need to look beyond myself and what I want, and think about the future and what I want for him.

Sometimes life gets complicated, and sometimes things are really simpler than they seem, or don’t have to be as complicated as they are. I think sometimes we can choose to be happy, and choose to be unhappy. I think taking a moment and being grateful for what we have is important, and  I know I need to be reminded to do that now and again.

I am grateful for my health, that I have a job, that I have a roof over my head, that I have a family who loves me, and will be there for me if needed, and for my son, who is a treasure. I am grateful for his health, and the health of my brothers and my parents, and that we are all safe from harm and are lucky to be citizens of the US and live in prosperity. We may not be wealthy, I certainly am not, but we are fortunate to live in a place where for the most part, is safe and sound. Most of my chaos is internal. I can say that I will probably live to see tomorrow, and the next day. That short of a freak occurence, most people I know will be safe and around.

Unfortunately, there have been some occurences in recent times, in my small area, of murders. And it just illustrates to me that we can never be one hundred percent sure of anything. I live in a safer place than some, but anything can happen anywhere. So, be grateful for what you have right now. And love life, because this is the moment. Right now, right here. I do not know what happens after we die, but there may not be a do over. So, don’t live in the past, don’t live in regret, look forward to the future, and plan for now.  I know that is what I plan on doing. Although the best laid plans can and will go awry, the best plans also plan for such things. 🙂

Posted in Life, Uncategorized

It isn’t over til it’s over…or why giving up isn’t as easy as it sounds

I’m sitting in the coffee shop right now thinking and being all existential-like. Life has meaning, I believe this. If  I have faith in anything, it is that things happen for a reason whether we understand the reason or not. If you were to die tomorrow, and see the events of your life, would you be proud of the life you lived? Or would you be filled with regret?

Right now, I look back and feel that I have done a lot of self discovery but still not accomplished much. If I died tomorrow, I would feel like I let myself down in some ways. I didn’t try hard enough to publish my novel, didn’t get my degree, never got to see the world. But, on the other hand, I did have a beautiful son, I had several good love stories with beautiful moments. I know there are people who would miss me everyday. I treasure these memories, and I know that my time on earth hasn’t been a waste. Every experience helps shape who you are and what you will become. Every person you meet impacts you, and affects you.

It is never truly over. Life is a cycle, and even if someone leaves your life, they will come back, perhaps not in the same form, maybe not to fill the same role. But they aren’t gone. They live on in your thoughts, dreams, and wishes.

Giving up on a future, or a dream of where you thought it was all going is so very hard because you felt so sure, so certain of the destination. But, like the cliche says, the “even the best laid plans go awry.”

Nothing worth doing is easy, and giving up on a dream isn’t either. But the fantasy of being with someone isn’t the same as the dream of writing a novel, of getting a master’s degree, of seeing your child get a master’s degree. The dream of being with someone isn’t something you can make happen. It takes the other person to be in the same dream. When two people are living two separate dreams it cannot work.  And, living in a dream world will prevent you from accomplishing things in life, and increase the chance of looking back with regrets. Regret is wasted energy. The past is gone, it isn’t coming back.

I will always look back in the year I had with fondness, without regret. It was beautiful, and I know that next year will be as well. It will  be different, but that can be good. Part of life is change, and how we deal with change. So, live life, sometimes living means giving up on one dream so you can live another. The future is always hopeful, the past is always finished. The present moment is where we find the most joy, and the most lasting fulfillment, so use your time wisely. Enjoy the moments while you have them, nothing lasts forever.

Posted in Life

Love Never Goes Away…Like Energy It Isn’t Created or Destroyed

The object of your affection may leave you, permanently or temporarily but what is going through my mind right now is the feeling you feel doesn’t actually leave you. It stays, maybe dims, maybe gets rerouted to someone new, or someone else. But it doesn’t disappear, even your love for a specific person doesn’t die. You have the memories and the times you spent, they are yours like precious diamonds. No one can take them away from you, nor can any situation,not even the death of the person. Your life with them never truly ends. Your memories live on and give them life.


If  you fall in love again, and you will, your former partner may dim from your life, but down the line you may remember something they said or some kind gesture. They may not be at the fore front of your thoughts, but in a way they never leave you. They are there in the memories. If a loved one dies, they also remain. Those gems are the most precious. You know they loved you and you know they would still love you if they could. Continuing to love them and their memory is giving them life again. They will live on through us and we will live on through our loved ones when our time comes. All is never lost, merely misplaced.