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Everyone has secrets. Some are buried deep within, shared only with others who hold a magic key.  

Other secrets simmer right beneath the surface. They bubble, sizzle, and burn you from the inside. All secrets, or knowledge about past, present or future that you keep private compose  your ‘dark side.’ 

This information may make you whimper, cackle hysterically,  and routinely shove it into deeper compartments of your mind when it threatens to surface.  I have quite a hysterical cackle, you should hear it.

This ‘dark side’ isn’t pretty. It’s the ugliest of all the ugly you could imagine. In the same breath, it’s what makes you beautiful.

You could take the information out, piece by piece and process it with a therapist or loved one, and maybe you already have. Maybe it’s something you though you’d made peace with, only to realize that some kind of hatred or anger for yourself has been born because of your ‘dark side.’  I get the most angry with myself  because of situations completely out of my control.

There’s no turning back the clock, no amount of magic mommy kisses that will ever heal certain boo boos.

It’s funny how the things that eat us alive are the things that we keep hidden deep within ourselves. It’s hard to imagine someone else loving those parts of oursevles when we hate them.  The fear of others judging us, hurting us, and leaving us because of our secrets prevents some people from venturing out at all.

My MC in Free Fall  has a secret shared only with her closest friends. Her secret has started to eat away at the inner lining of her soul, so she does the only thing she can.  She gives up trying to have any control over her life at all. She has clipped the tethers that kept her so completely grounded,  and embarked on her free fall. She may get a few bumps and brusies along the way, but that’s what makes her dark side so loveable.

It’s human to have faults. It’s human to make mistakes. It’s also human to get your heart broken, a very important lesson indeed.

What’s hiding on my dark side? I’ll never tell the whole truth, but  miniscule bits and pieces of my dark side find their way into the lives of my fictional characters. People always say to write what you know.

http://youtu.be/H5ArpRWcGe0

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I like to bribe myself to have a good attitude for being on call for my job.Sometimes I buy myself a new purse, sometimes it’s a pretty dress. This evening’s good on call attitude is due to karaoke with my friend Melissa tomorrow night!

I’ve been in a singing mood for a couple weeks now, but haven’t had a chance to sing for a ‘real’ audience (probably a good thing). I’m in desperate need of some new song ideas. My range is sort of  in between a mezzo-soprano and an alto. Please help! I can’t keep singing Broken Road and I Hope You Dance every single time. I might even allow myself to be taped and upload the video to my next blog. Maybe. No promises or anything. I’m kind of shy in real life.

Karaoke also means people watching, which always provides an excellent dose of inspiration for my writing. I’m still looking for a strong male name for a character. I don’t think he will be fully developed until he finds that name, and I’m verging on desperate.  Perhaps the name will come to me on karaoke Thursday.

Please provide song ideas if you can, or male name ideas…providing me with the perfect name would most definitely inspire me to post something embarrassing of myself in return. Maybe some funny poetry from when I was twelve, like the poem about the punnet square or the size of my feet. It’s healthy to laugh at yourself once in a while. Ohhhh, or if I know you personally, then you should come sing with me! I do love to duet.

I am the Queen…

of procrastination. There are some  intriguing distractions, and then there are the gluttonous distractions that keep sucking up all of my precious time. They keep me from editing, writing, cleaning, and best of all, thinking about things I need to get sorted out.

my ten favorite ways to procrastinate are:

1. snuggling– Doesn’t everyone love a good snuggle? I know Porky the Puggle does. Piper Poozle is master snuggler, and very hard to resist. Zoe likes to snuggle, especially when she’s procrastinating a punishment, bedtime or chores.

2. reading– There are so many books to be read! If I don’t keep reading a minimum of one a week I’ll never get to them all.

 3.Facebook stalking- This allows me to live vicariously through others, catch up with friends and family, and secretly stalk you. Just kidding. I’m not really a stalker, ha ha. Ha ha ha.

4. pinterest- Need I say more? Yes, I’ll procrastinate the writing of this blog by talking about pinterest. I’ve picked up so many recipe ideas! I love channeling my inner chef and pretending that I can cook. I love looking at all the craft ideas I want to use for Christmas gifts, but the truth is I’ll probably procrastinate using them.

5. words with friends- I even procrastinate playing my words on this game…sometimes I’ll completely forget for about four days before I remember I have games going. One of my teenage clients asked me if I have ADHD today…I wonder if this is a sign.

6. chocolate- with peanut butter preferably.

7. reading blogs- I like to see what other people have to say about the world, their lives, writing, books, etc. There are so many blogs out there. I feel pretty special that people are actually starting to read mine.

8. girls nights– Yes, I should be doing laundry. Yes, I should be writing. Yes, I should not be drinking empty calories. Girls nights keep me sane, although some may say that girls nights have caused the crazy in me to surface 🙂

9. being silly with my daughters– Who else can I be silly with? I especially enjoy tickle fights and jumping on the trampoline.

10. I’m procrastinating the choosing of my final favorite way to put things off. I especially like to put of making decisions, doing laundry, and any type of confrontation. I prefer to keep the peace and let life flow as is for as long as I can manage.

I would like to thank all those who chose to procrastinate by reading my simple little blog. Now procrastinate further by sharing your favorites.

Woo hoo! Woo hoo!

It’s not my best work, but it’s a poem nonetheless. If I wasn’t half asleep I would do a happy dance in the middle of the street. My seven mile bike ride took more out of me than I had to give. That will happen after going to a bachelorette party, only sleeping for five hours, then putting your mommy hat on and taking the kids swimming, doing laundry, cooking dinner, etc.

It takes a lot for me to share something new with the world, so please don’t judge too harshly.

7/15/12 (untitled as usual)

questions unasked

leave words unspoken.

secrets of the past

answer why hearts are broken.

stories of once upon a time

and happily ever after

forgot to mention crime.

something’s the matter

can’t see through

your own denial.

love once grew

but it’s been stagnant for a while.

 

can’t find the truth in life’s maze

twists and turns get in the way.

no time to get stuck in this craze,

this tangled web gets worse each day.

need a magic potion

like a fairy tale

such a silly notion.

stormy skies send hail

beating

down

upon my mind.

answers hide themselves away

locked in a place only I can find.

It’s my first day off since July 4th. It feels so good to know that the Social Worker hat is stashed away until Monday morning. That’s a bit of a lie. Sometimes I feel as though I have “I’m a Social Worker” tattooed to my forehead. Have you ever gone somewhere and random people tell you their problems or need help? That happens to me all the time. I don’t mind helping out, I just want to know if I’m putting off some kind of vibe that says, “I can help you.”

A beautiful almost six-year-old girl woke me up by jumping into my bed for a snuggle.  We were perfectly content with our snuggle time until Porky the Puggle starting whining to go outside. There was no choice but to let the whiner outside and begin our day. We skipped the Farmer’s Market  which I’m sure to regret later in the week when I have no fresh kale, Calhoun County peaches or red Russian garlic to cook with.

Piper and I decided that the morning wouldn’t be perfect unless we made french toast.  I love cooking with the girls because it gets their creative juices flowing, especially Zoe. She’s always coming up with wild ideas for cupcakes. One day we will try her goat cheese frosting.

I let the girls crack the eggs because that’s their favorite part next to stirring and taste testing. Then they abandoned me and traipsed to the garden to feed the egg shells to the rose bushes. Hopefully the neighbors didn’t mind my pajama clad children screaming at each other before 9am.

Zoe and Piper asked me to blog about their impressions of breakfast. Not only am I trying to inspire them to be healthy cooks, I’m also trying to inspire them to be creative thinkers and writers. It doesn’t take much prodding as they were both born with fantastic imaginations.

“It tastes good, and when you put the syrup and butter both on top it tastes like caramel and icing. I like the taste, it’s so good I could eat all of it. I helped make it. I cracked two eggs and my sister cracked two eggs. Mommy put the secret ingredient in it. It’s delicious!!!” -Piper

“It tastes like a sunrise;  the sun is a pat of butter and the maple syrup is the darkness fading away. It tasted like pure tastiness. I helped make it, I cracked two eggs and fed the shells to the rose bushes. I figured out the secret ingredient, but I’m not telling.”  -Zoe

I realize that this post is way past morning, but the girls and got distracted with other things. They get to spend the night with their Moo-Moo tonight. This mommy gets to have a night out with other grown ups 🙂 I’m excited to get out because it gives me the opportunity to people watch. A lot of the characters I create are born from people watching. You never know who you are going to meet.

I hope everyone had a wonderful morning!

I almost forgot, my nine-year -old is reading the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and wanted me to remind everyone that the answer to everything in the universe is 42.

A full night’s sleep…what is that exactly? 24 hours in just one day may sound like a ton of time to accomplish things on your to do list. Sure, a ton of time if you don’t partake in sleep. Last night I chose to stay up writing until nearly 1:30am to hammer out the rest of the chapter in Free Fall I was working on. This was after I goofed around reading blogs, writing a blog, and talking to friends on Facebook when I should have been working on my chapter. Truth be told, the creative bug wasn’t biting until around 12:30am, so I wouldn’t have been writing even if I hadn’t been goofing around on the internet.

I started working on this posting about an hour and a half ago. I’ve finally made it to the second paragraph, which is progress in itself. My eyes are heavy, and I find myself dozing off here and there.  My body is craving sleep. My mind keeps trying to convince itself that I have enough energy to write another chapter before I allow myself the comfort of a soft pillow  beneath my head. Mmmmmm….soft pillows. There. I relocated from my couch to my bed where I am relaxing on soft pillows while I continue to compose this post. I would be angry at myself for falling asleep before it’s done, so I will deprive myself a little longer while I finish. I’m sure to be slap happy before I finish, which will lead to some creative juices, I hope.

Ultimately, sleep will always come last in my world. There’s little to no time for writing during a normal day when I must wear the Social Worker hat on top of the mommy hat. Speaking of the mommy hat, I missed it! My girls were gone for three whole nights! I didn’t have anyone to cook for, which is preposterous. I always have people to cook for! Tonight I made homemade pasta sauce. Sauce in a jar can’t compare to homemade. Seriously, try it. You just throw some fresh garlic and olive oil, mushrooms and onions if you desire in a pan. Add in your garden fresh tomatoes, a little basil, salt pepper etc to season it and  let it simmer until you have the perfect sauce. We put ours on rainbow colored pasta because what kids don’t want to eat rainbow pasta? I topped it with slivers of fresh mozzarella and basil from the garden. I wish I had photographed it. You can’t beat beautiful and delicious.

So after a day as Social Worker, mommy and master chef comes a night of writing. I’ll have plenty of time to sleep when I’m finished with Free Fall.  Ohhh, but then I could finish Purgatory, Overeater Anonymous, Finding Forgiveness, and My Musical Life. I’ll have plenty of time to sleep when I’m dead. For now, I choose to write.

once upon a time I was a poet

It was a label I could identify with throughout my teens and early twenties. I can remember walking home from school as a seventh or eighth grader writing poems in my head the whole way home. Some of them would come to me at the edges of sleep, some in dreams.

I penned poems in the margins of my notebooks in high school. I set up my email address, amyisapoet@*******.com. I wanted the whole world, or the immediate Springfield community to know that I ate, slept and breathed poetry. The best part of getting a car at sixteen was the personalized license plates, POETS 4.  Fourteen years later I still drive around in a car with license plates that label me  poet. I’m kind of too lazy to change them.

When I was eighteen I rebelled against something, though I’m not sure what, and got a tattoo that says poet in Japanese. I googled it again while writing this blog just to make sure that’s really want the foreign characters on my back say. Google concurs.  From that point on I was forever branded poet. One of the English teachers at my high school made up a saying something like this, ‘Amy, Amy she is a poet and you know it cause her tattoo shows it.’  That still makes me giggle just a little.

Some of my favorite poetry writing memories took place on my college campus. For some reason I’ve never required very much sleep. I would get up extra early and sit on the cold stone bench outside of Corbin Hall and write while the sun came up. I liked the quiet, the solitude. Speaking of college, I really miss the idea of creative writing classes. I had an amazing professor at Western Illinois University, but for the life of me I can’t remember her name. I despise my bad memory. I think my second daughter ate parts of my memory in utero. She also sucked up all of my organizational skills. That’s why I can’t ever find my glasses, or my keys, or…

At some point in time I lost the part of myself that  considered herself a poet. The words which used to flow so freely dried up. I hypothesize that I lost my ability to write good poetry around the time I forgot how to cry. I do cry sometimes, but I resent myself for it. I used to find comfort in tears, believing that they washed away the pain and anger. Time brings both joy and sorrow. When sorrow came to visit so did bitterness. That bitterness is a sneaky one as it has refused to completely vacate the premises.

Every now and then I feel the need to revisit the poems of my past. Reading them sends tiny sparks of creativity flowing through my veins. I can almost feel the indescribable tingle in my fingers, the need to feel the weight of a pen in my hand and the blank page of a journal in front of me. I keep buying pretty little journals to carry around in my purse, but I have a tendency to lose them. Poetry doesn’t feel right when I try to compose it on a computer. It’s definitely a paper pen craft for me.

I haven’t given up hope of finding the poet within myself again. I’ll show you why…

this poem is dateless…written sometime in 2004

poems              

compose themselves,

using my mind

as scratch paper.

Some of them

move on-

They run away

Before transposing their lives

To the outside world with my pen

By Amy Jean

The memory of poems composing themselves in mind is still fresh.

One day I will find the poet within me. I have a tattoo that says so.

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