I'll Always Remember You Young

This song has been playing on the radio a lot lately. It catches my ear, but I seldom hear all of the words simply because I'm lost in my own thoughts most days. However, the other day was a rough one. 

Christmas is always tough time, but this was the first one without my partner in crime, my rock, my best friend...my beautiful boy, Diesel. My heart has been a bit heavier this year. I've been missing my grandparents, my dad, Diesel, my cousin (and now his partner) and my mind has traveled across the ethereal plane, wondering if they are all okay.

The first time I remember asking my grandma how old she was, she answered, "I'm 53." She wasn't much older then than I am now. I cannot imagine Grandma coloring her hair wild colors and wearing the clothes I wear. But in my mind, she is forever 53. Playing ball with us kids, making date candy into dog turd shapes to give to her baby brother, and playing Chinese checkers on rainy Saturdays.

My grandpa is frozen in time as a younger man. Reminding me to hold my silverware like a lady, to not wear my cap so far down on my ears cuz "ladies don't have cauliflower ears", and buying his only granddaughter plastic collectible ponies for Christmas.

My parents will be forever in their thirties. Back when they were happy. Back before Dad's PTSD took over his life. Back when we were still a family.

My cousin will always be 18 (and I can hear him laughing). I remember his smile...god, how I loved him. Driving to town with him to pick up his paycheck, Billy Idol blasting on the radio, no cares in the world. 

I know my cousin, Beth, will laugh, but to me, she'll always be 16. Rimming my waterline with black eyeliner while Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons rocked out on the television in her parents' living room. She is the closest thing to a big sister I've ever had.

And my darling Diesel will forever be the puppy who loved to be carried to bed, sung "Baby Mine", and was the best friend a girl could ask for.

 

My friends are forever frozen in time at 18. When our futures were bright, life was simple, and the world was ours for the taking.

The other day, someone asked me what I was like when I was younger. I paused a moment or two and let my mind travel back in time. I wasn't much different than I am now. Ballsy. Full of sass. Full of spirit. I was the girl who hung out with the guys with jacked-up trucks on Main Street on Friday night, her best friend by her side. Driving backroads with the windows down and the music up loud. Seeing just how much trouble we could find. My nose wasn't always in a book, but pretty damn often. I dreamed of getting out of the one horse town and being someone special. I had big dreams and lofty aspirations. 

I've often wondered how people remember me. If they remember me at all. I'm sure I'm the bad guy to some, wounded to others, beautiful with an ugly heart/ugly with a beautiful heart, unlovable, untouchable, and I'm sure the list goes on. I just hope someone somewhere remembers me fondly as someone who gave her all. And always remembers me young!

Yes, You Can!

The other day I posted a blog about the day you became the person you are now. I had something happen this morning that made me realize exactly where I am going! And trust me, it was a bit of a revelation *G*

How many times in your life have you been told that you can't do something? Not the kind of "NO!" that is for your own safety, but the kind where someone doesn't believe you are smart enough, strong enough, or simply enough. I've encountered this more times than I care to count.

I was sent this last night. If you know me, you'll know that my faith is a mishmash of a lot of various faiths. However, this one spoke to my heart to the point that I was beyond words. 

When I wanted to be a veterinarian, I was told I couldn't because a) there wasn't enough money for college (financial aid wasn't what it is now) and b) my heart was too soft. When I wanted to be a nanny, I was told that I'd never be able to be too far from my family. (That one was sort of true!) When I decided maybe I'd give college a try, I was told that I wasn't ready. I had too many things on my plate and I'd fail. When I actually did start college, I was told that I'd never follow through. I was told that an English degree was a waste of money and I'd never be able to find a decent job. When I wrote, I was told I'd never continue. (I will someday, but right now, it just isn't the right time.) And this morning, I was told that it was interesting that I was still pursuing an English major because I was neither a good writer nor a strong one. 

Well, guess what? I am still here. I'm on the downhill slide to a number I'm not comfortable admitting just yet, but I'm not giving up! I'm still busting my ass and I WILL succeed! I'm a good writer. I'm a strong writer. I'm intelligent and I will accomplish the things I want in this life! I can only get better with all the incredible people who are teaching me, showing me, and guiding me. And guess what? I don't need your approval!

And neither do you! If I can do this, you can, too. Get out there and make your dreams come true! I'll believe in you, if you need me to! 

My Grown-Up Letter...

Dear Santa,
     There are people in the world who would say that I'm too old to be writing a letter to you, however, Grandma always told me I was never too old to believe. (My grandma was a smart woman :)) And I just don't give a shit about the world's opinion.
     I'm usually pretty snarky about these "Dear Santa" things. But here I am, being sincere and all. I have quite a list for you and all it comes from the deepest depths of my heart.
       I have a few things I want for myself, but first, I want to get the big stuff out of the way.
     Santa, I know most of this is big stuff and for most people it would be impossible, but I believe that if anyone can do it, you can.
     1) I want all of our soldiers to come home, safe and sound. So, I guess what I'm asking for is Peace on Earth. Our men and women in the military deserve so much more than we, as a nation, give them.
     2) I want every child of the world to know what it is to feel safe, secure, and loved. No child asks to be brought into this world and so often, we forget that.
     3) I also would like every animal to know they are loved and cherished members of the family. We tend to forget that their care, too, was given to us by their Creator.
     4) I would love to have every homeless veteran to have a home, the medical attention they deserve, and the financial help owed to them from an often ungrateful nation.
     I could be selfish and ask for so many things that only money can buy for myself, but, in all truthfulness, Santa, I've gotten older and maybe a bit wiser. I've learned Christmas isn't about stuff or things. Christmas is about love, laughter, friends and family, and joy. So for myself I ask for the following things:
     1) May my friends and family know how dearly loved they are and may the new year bring them all the happiness their hearts will allow. May they be blessed this holiday and all year through!
     2) I've worked hard this year. I've studied until I can study no more. I've typed, added, edited, divided, read, learned, and tested until my eyes and brain hurt. Please, Santa, let me get passing grades in all of my classes!
     3) The next two I will not give words to, however, I was always told that you know what's in my heart. I don't ask for perfection, Santa, but you know my sincerest desires and what lies in the cold black depths of my heart.
     I know this is short notice and some of these things are next to impossible, but it weighed on my heart and mind tonight. 
     I still believe in you, Santa, and I hope you still believe in me, too!
     With love,
     Gemma
P.S. Diesel would like to add Nudges and squeaky toys to the list.

     

Step into the Mind of an Overthinker...

I had a blogpost all set to go entitled "It's Not Easy Being Me...", then I put it aside and thought about it. Okay, I overthought about it and pressed the delete button.

This is my problem: I tend to overthink. Every. Single. Thing. I'm talking about things that happened back in high school. Things that happened 10 years, 10 months, 10 weeks, 10 days, 10 hours, 10 minutes, 10 seconds ago. I replay every little detail and pick it apart, telling myself that I am an idiot for the things that I've done or said.

Truthfully, very few people from high school remember me and those who do only remember the quiet girl who always had her nose in a book. If I knew you 10 years ago, then I am a much different person than I was then. I behaved much differently and was more unhappy than I have ever been. I know people rarely think of the things I've said or done, but the introvert in me believes she is the most awkward person out there.

Let me give you a shining example of my awkwardness: Mr. Charismatic Smile (from my math class?) sat beside me one day and said "I'm not getting this." It was a pretty basic algebra problem so I attempted to explain it. Now, I could have said simply "What you do to one side, you have to do to the other", then showed him the way to do it. Instead, what came out of my mouth haunts me to this day. I said, "Think of the problem as a menage a trois. What you do to one, you have to do to the other." Yup, that's me! Don't ya just love it?

This is what led to this blogpost. I'm an overthinker. I tend to second guess every move I make until the moment has passed. (Now, I can tell you that the above explanation led to a very interesting conversation that went WAY off the algebra trail and probably told Mr. Charismatic Smile more about me than he needed to know, however, I keep thinking that he had to have thought I was an idiot. He didn't, for the record, but still...) 

I have received the rights back to both of the books in the Cedar River series. I've been re-designing the covers myself. (Are they good enough? You aren't talented enough! You're an idiot!) I've been re-reading the books, deciding what needs to be fixed/added/removed. (You're a hack! You'll never make it as an author! Give up the dream!) With the books being removed from the various online book sellers, the reviews have come down. (No one will ever want to review those pieces of trash again. You're lucky they reviewed them the first time! HACK!) I had some very lovely reviews written about these books. I've had one horrible one. Care to guess which one I dwell on? Bingo! The horrible one!

My ability to overthink everything has me second-guessing every move I make, every word I say, and every path I take. I'm beginning to think of this particular "gift" as a talent. I know people who overthink, but to this degree? This has to be a special talent in and of itself.

I try my usual tricks when I can't shut my brain down. I meditate. I burn candles. I light incense. I walk barefoot in the yard (which is dangerous with an English Mastiff). I attempt to write, then delete every word because it isn't good enough. I cry. I rage. I decide to never write again. I open my journal and write it all down, then I cry some more.

Commiserate with me! Are you an overthinker? How do you cope? Any secrets? Better yet...wanna share your awkward moments with me? Let me know that I'm not alone? You can even email them to me. I won't tell a soul, I promise!

He Saw Her

To get back into the rhythm of writing, I've been writing short pieces based on writing prompts that get my muse up and running. This particular prompt was "Write about someone that most people wouldn't notice."

It made me think about myself and how I have tried so hard to blend into the background. I never wanted to be the center of attention. Then, one day, this man with a charming smile walked in with this energy that coaxed me out of my shell. I've been told by boys throughout my life that I'm beautiful. Gorgeous boys who are almost half my age (some even more so). And they get me to halfway believe that they are telling the truth. But there was something different about this guy with the amazing smile. He isn't your standard issue college guy. He's special. There is nothing boy about him. He's the first man I've actually spent time getting to know. And he actually made me believe that I was beautiful.

So...here's a little writing piece for you:

She was nondescript in so many ways. She blended into the scenery and crowd. She was seldom noticed by anyone. She carried herself in a way that drew no attention. There was no wiggle in her walk. She walked with her shoulders back and her eyes on the crowd in front of her. She stared blindly in front of her, not noticing anyone. Her jeans and t-shirt or sweater attire made her look like every other college girls. Her body was hidden by her baggy clothing. She was full-figured with curves, but she didn’t accentuate her curves. She felt better hiding them away in a sea of sexy co-eds. The only thing that stood out immediately was her hair. It was blue-black with rainbows of color showing. Pinks, purples, blues, and greens drew the eye to the fact that she was no ordinary woman.

She sat in the back of the class and kept her nose in her book, earbuds in her ears. She avoided eye contact with anyone. Her eyes held pain and insecurities. She would diligently take notes and paid attention to the professor’s instructions. She never volunteered answers or asked questions; after all she couldn’t risk the chance of sounding stupid.

One day, a man walked into class. He caught the eyes of the quiet woman and smiled at her. Then, the woman who nobody saw did something that made her beautiful. She smiled at him. He decided in that moment to make it his mission to make her smile every chance he got. Because where no one else saw the beauty of this woman who attempted to blend into the background, her smile lit up his day. He made a point of telling her that her smile was something he missed when he wasn’t in class which only made her smile brighter. Her eyes danced with mischief and her laughter came easier each time. For an entire year, he made her smile, laugh, and her impish side came out to play.

He learned more about her than most people knew. She was easy to talk to and her teasing manner was fun to play with. She knew how to take a joke and could hand it right back to him. He opened up to her and let her into his world. He was the first person to initiate physical contact with the woman and, while it scared the hell out of her, she relaxed more and more in his presence until it felt normal for the touching to occur.

He knew someone had been unkind to her and made her feel as if she was less than she was. It raised his ire, but he continued to show the woman kindness. She opened her heart slightly and allowed him a glimpse at the sheer beauty of her. It wasn’t the clothes she wore or the way she styled her hair. It wasn’t her make-up or her shoes. It was the way her brain worked and the way he could make her smile like no one had before. It was the way her hand felt in his. It was the way she trembled when he touched her knee. It was the way her body fit against his when he took the chance to hug her. It was the way she sighed against his cheek as he held on longer than she expected. It was the way her hair tickled his nose and her scent lingered in his memory. It was the way he caught her watching him when he turned his head to look at her. It was the way she challenged him and made him question things. It was the confident way she gave him her phone number and encouraged him to use it. It was the way she was his personal cheerleader and believed he could do anything. It was the way their beliefs coincided. It was the similar ways they had grown up. It was so many things that made her beautiful. It was just the fact that everyone hadn’t seen her for what she really was…beautiful. What everyone else overlooked as a simple stone was actually an iridescent opal filled with color and fire if only it was held up to the sunlight and allowed to shine. 

Tell me what you think! Tell me about the man in your life! Tell me about how you find ways to stand out! Talk to me :)

Little Girl, Big Dreams Lost

My mom sent me this the other day:

I cried because I feel like I'm letting the little girl, who had such big dreams, down. She was determined to get out of that "one horse town" and become somebody. She was going to make a name for herself and change the world. I wanted to make a difference and I'm feeling like I haven't done half of what that young girl hoped for. Her dreams were so big...she wanted to write books and make a name for herself...to be her own woman, independent and strong. She didn't want to need people. She wanted people to be in her life because she wanted them there, not because she had to rely on others.

It's funny how Life can take our hopes and dreams, twist them around, and make them seem impossible. I mean, c'mon, I don't remember wanting to be a princess. I wanted to marry a man just like my dad. I was gonna be a woman just like my mom, except with the addition of the writing thing. I was going to have a big house in the woods with 5 kids and 20 dogs. My author name was going to be HUGE! 

And this is where I feel like I'm disappointing that little girl in the big farmhouse who had dreams of making her way in this world. My muse has left me and I have no idea how to start writing again. I'm afraid I will never write another word in any of my works in progress. And if I do finish a book, publish it, etc., no one will ever want to read it. My anxiety and fear take over and I can't catch my breath.

A while back I wrote a quick poem/story about searching for the little girl who was still inside, suffocating on the lack of dreams the adult version refused to believe in. I cried as I wrote it because I had laid all of my dreams aside for others. I pushed everything aside in order to make sure others got to pursue their dreams.

 I do remember her: she splashed in mud puddles, danced in the rain, played in the fields, sat under a willow tree and dreamed of the future. I still see her idealistic idea of what love and relationships looked like and how they lasted forever.

The adult version is so far off from that little girl's dream. The craziness and monotony of life has a way of stripping away the rose hue that colors our world as children.

Maybe it is time to go dance in the rain again, splash through a mud puddle without worrying about ruining my shoes, and believe in that forever love. (I'm told it exists!) And get back to dreaming those BIG dreams again! Maybe even make a few come true!

This Crazy Thing Called "Life"

As you can tell Life has been a little nuts. I've been working as much as I can, studying and going to class, and taking time to play...well, not as often as I should.

This new job isn't my dream career by any means. It helps pay the bills which is all I need at the moment. I'm in school for my dream career. Between that and my writing, I figure my life will be all that I want it to be.

I have met some amazing people with my job though. I find myself looking forward to my 2-3 hour shift with them simply because they are the most incredible human beings. I am so touched by some of these clients. They warm my cold, black heart and touch my soul with their love for life. It is funny, but I was just thinking about a particular client and I got a phone call from my company. They got a request for ME this weekend which makes me smile. The client and I had so much fun teasing each other and watching movies. He's a prankster and had me in tears with some of his stories.

School is winding down. Only a few more weeks left and I'm out for the summer. I'm not doing bad in my classes. I know I should study harder, but the sickness from last month is hanging on by it's fingernails. I wake up with a headache. I go to bed with a headache. My chest, head, and nose are constantly stuffy. I just finished up a few assignments for a final project and a research paper that I knocked out fairly easily. AND I have my classes scheduled for next semester already.

Still looking to move closer to school, but that will come when it is supposed to. I've gotten ahold of a couple of different places and moving out of this place seems to be on the horizon. Because of my job, I can transfer to the new city which will be nice. It's the moving part that I'm not looking forward to. I've spent the last 2 months living out of boxes. LOL

Like I said, not much time for play. I get together with my favorite couple once a week or so. I do socialize, just not much. I did get out for a night of fun with one of my favorite guys and his brother. Much fun was had, but it was the talking and catching up on each other's lives that made the night one of my favorites. When you can spend time talking all night with someone, watch the sun come up, and still not want the time to end, you know it was a good one. I made it 36 hours with no sleep before I had to nap, but damn was it worth it.

Plus I started writing again...I had put it aside for a bit while I dealt with one crisis after another, however, after a night of hanging out with my best friend (thanks again by the way!), I opened the file and started to type. The story was still there. It was just patiently waiting for me to write it out.

I shared this on my personal FB page the other day and I just feel the lyrics so much at this point. I hope you enjoy it, too.