Life

Forward is forward

Your speed doesn’t matter, forward is forward

I like this saying. I think it’s natural to want to catapult your way to success or whatever achievement you’re after, but mine times out of ten, it takes time. So much time. And sometimes progress is so fleeting that it feels like you’re going backwards. 

I have a habit of standing still because it’s better than dealing with the disappointment but… I’m going to try and shake myself out of that rut. 

This is a response to: CatapultDaily Prompt

Bitchin'

One Liner Wednesday – an overwhelming urge to run away


This is my entry for One Liner Wednesday.

Someone posted a video of their pedicure (is this a thing that people do now? Why?) and their rampant need for attention aside, I DO NOT LIKE FEET. AT ALL. I don’t like open shoes. I don’t like sandals. I don’t even like peep toe shoes. Anything that shows any part of the foot (specifically the toes and heel) is off limits. I hate the sound of feet slapping in shoes. I just hate feet. So you can imagine what happened when I unknowingly clicked onto this video. I was not happy. I literally almost unfollowed them because I hate feet that much. I’m glad they’re getting their feet together because messed up gnarly feet are the worst but they need to do it far away from where I can see.
SHUDDER. 

writing

scorpion scar {flash fiction}

There’s a scar on my chin, right under the center, at the bottom. It looks like a scorpion and feels like a raised ridge. 
I tell everyone it makes me feel like a badass, but really it makes me feel like a battle axe. 

The story goes that I got into a bar fight.

Jim from the up the street was three shots of whiskey too far gone and putting his sweaty oversized paws on a woman that didn’t want nothing to do with him. 

I stood up, bold and sober and I demanded that Jim leave her alone. The ensuing fight involved all sorts, from broken chair legs, to broken glass to me slamming a cashew shell into Jim’s ruddy cheek.

The punchline always gets people; the part where Jim pissed himself and scuttled away in embarrassment. 

They laugh, buy me a drink and everybody’s happy.

Except, that’s not how it happened. 

I’m a writer and one thing writers do is embellish. Even in real life, writers are forever telling stories. If I can entrance someone just by telling them a story, I can make magic happen on paper. 

That’s how the story of my scar grows. 

The real story is that I fell asleep at my desk one day. I know what you’re thinking, how does that lead to a scorpion shaped scar? 

Now you’re wondering if the scar really is shaped that way. 

I know the answer but I’ll never tell.

What’s important is that I was sitting on a three legged chair and unfortunately, chairs are inanimate. They don’t think the way that we do, if they think at all. 

So when I startled awake, there was some kind of breakdown in communication between the three functional legs and I went down hard and knocked my chin against the hard pine. I tasted blood almost immediately and I knew that it was going to leave some kind of mark.

I didn’t know it would be scorpion shaped, but I’ll just take it as a blessing.

That story – the truth – isn’t as interesting as me being a hero. People might laugh at clumsiness, but heroics get you the golden points. A free beer, a free slice of pie, a questionable donut from an officer who probably knows that I’m full of shit.

Being a hero makes me feel like a king and I’m not a good enough person to walk away from that.

Is anybody?

People aren’t interested in the truth so I don’t bother to give it to them.

Life is all about the illusion and even I find myself playing along. Some days I live in that bar fight, play it over and over in my mind like it really happened.

In some ways, it did.

The setting just happens to be my imagination.

Awkward Situations, Life

Getting Caught Up In My Own Weirdness

This is me in a nutshell, although sometimes I think life would be easier if I was normal. Sometimes I get so caught up in the weirdness that I can feel the point at which it goes from being funny to ‘omg can this girl shut the fk up’. 

So, I’m going to give my long suffering break and bring the weirdness here for a bit. I will give you guys a daily log of weirdness. I’m serious. Or we can just file it under Random Thoughts like I’ve been doing? Yeah, that’s better. Anyway. Bye!

Bitchin', Life

Hell hath no fury…

Story checks out. 

Apparently I get grumpy when I’m hungry. The real question is who are these people that don’t? There’s something wrong with y’all, and not me. I need to be sufficiently energised to deal with any bullshit that might come along the way. And this is Planet Earth. There’s always a 99.9% chance of that happening at any time. 

writing

crushed {flash fiction}

Why am I always writing about weddings or people who want to get married? I don’t want either of those things at the moment, lol. Unless my conscience is trying to tell me something! 😂

There’s a glint in the distance, gleaming bright. She creeps forward, her heart beginning to race with anticipation. It’s been three years and she’s hoped.
Wished.

Dreamed.

Even though he’s against it and changes the subject every time. People change their mind all the time, right? She just has to hope.

Wish.

Dream.

One more step and she comes face to face with the sparkling object.

Her heart sinks when she sees what it is.

It’s what now remains of the faux diamond earrings she lost last week.

It’s crushed, with the diamond part hanging limply, as if it’s given up on life, on being whole.

It’s like looking into a mirror; she realises that she’s just deluding herself.

There’s no hope.

There are no fulfiled wishes.

Dreams are just dreams, pockets of imagination that aren’t supposed to be unleashed.

She takes a step back and ignores the way her heart continues to sink with disappointment.

She’s been on this train for three years, but this isn’t her stop. This isn’t the end of the road.

She’s only halfway through the ride, and not ready to give up just yet.

One day, she may regret her decision but one day isn’t today. It won’t be tomorrow either.

It never is.

Life

Boredom

The thought always comes, like a random jolt to the brain. 

I’m bored.

Let’s face it, we all get bored. If we didn’t, why would we do anything? Out of necessity, maybe, but also because we need to be stimulated somehow. 

However, for many years, I’ve found myself doing nothing. I might have been studying, working, writing, goofing off etc, but given where I find myself today, it feels like nothing. 

Take that feeling and add in apathy and you get a lingering sense of real boredom. Not the I haven’t been occupied for an hour and need something to do kind of boredom, but the kind where I wake up and wonder what the point is. Why do we get up and do the same thing all over again? Why do I get up and do the same thing over again?

I’m a creature of habit. My most recent interest was something that took up my time well enough but this pressing boredom ensured that I ruined it. I focused on it everyday until I was sick of it too. That was followed by something else and well, it’s less boredom and more eliciting bizarre dreams, but whatever, I have to move on from that too. 

Now, I have to search for yet another hobby but it’s tiring. I don’t want to feel this restlessness and life is passing me by. It’s not even a comparison thing. I see pictures of people out and about but I’m aware enough to know that they might feel as trapped as I do. It’s not about doing things – I do things. Not a lot, but it counts! I don’t feel like I need to do more because I’m not interested in anything. 

Maybe that’s the issue. 

Blogging has been a great help over the past seven months, especially this little side blog of mine. I love my other blog but it serves a different purpose for me. 

Still, it’s not quite filling that hole that I feel. There’s still something missing. Is it friends? I realised a few days ago that I have noticeably less emails this year. Usually I have a long chain going with someone but there’s nothing. And I don’t particularly want to initiate anything. So, it’s just me in my own little world. 

And I wouldn’t mind if that didn’t mean that I’m focused on my own shortcomings a lot of the time. 

Usually, I can fill the void with hyoerfocus on something but I always desperately try to avoid the obvious. 

Boredom isn’t just boredom but a gateway to all of the emotions that I keep locked away. The self doubt, the lack of self-esteem, the low confidence, the fact that being in public sometimes makes me want to hide forever and the fact that I always feel like I’m playing a version of myself with so many people. Some people know certain things and some people don’t know certain things. It feels like I’m always hiding, but the one person I can’t hide from is myself. 

I have no idea is this is depression, low mood, anxiety, or whatever name we give it. At this point, the terms don’t matter. I have no idea what matters. All I know is that I’d rather not think about it at all. 

I seriously need a new hobby. 

(Normal snarky service will be resumed shortly.)