My Muse

I’m humming a tune that I can finally remember. I write it down. The words float to me easily, the melody plays in my ears, I am immersed in the sound of beauty. A few tweaks and I’m onto a masterpiece.

The ideas come freely, I am a-gaggle and a-goggle with giddy delight. I laugh and smile, a little less hollow now. I’m wrapped in words and the plot rolls before me like a river to chart my course to the path I had struggled to achieve and yet never quite approached.

I am watching romance films and I don’t know why but I find them charming rather than nauseating.

It’s like the bubbling in my chest, the joy of life, the crisp of autumn, all combine to make me alive. I want to be alive again, and my fingers and heart and soul are dancing a melody of something genuine and new, something unfolding from inside like a sheltered flower that finally bloomed.

This didn’t happen before and I don’t know what it means now that it is.

I just am.

I exist and for once, that’s okay.

Are you the one who unlocked my creative side? The side so still and cold I thought it maybe had died from neglect or… sadness.

With all this, I am feeling again, and that means that pain is on the way. Time to slaughter and slay and to forget all my names.

And yet I cradle it close, like a long lost lover. Captivated by it’s light and beauty. I am subdued by its power and it rules me. For a time, for a season. Will it fade away and leave me again with the gray?

Is this a love? Or is this pain disguised as pleasure?

When will you hurt me. Again.

Metal and edge, the beauty of a katana is not just in how it gleams in the light. But in its slash and cape of blood. Likewise, something this beautiful starts with joy and cuts to the quick in a sharp and incisive way. Needlepoint my heart. Cover my eyes, and make me love again.

It hurts, it’s love, it hurts.

It’s love.

It hurts.

It is raw and untethered, like grated nerves stretched for piano wire.

It cuts yet the sound is piercing.

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Mocha #4: Snapshot of Yesterday

Written 6 months ago… through the lens of teenage angst…

Come.

I want to show you something.

Let’s go back -I want to take you back many years ago. We can travel together.

We stumbled on an old journal that I filled while I was in high school. I’d forgotten what that time was all about.

I was fighting the parents on a regular basis while -vainly- killing feelings on a first crush who -if I remember correctly- promptly started dating an acquaintance.

Ha! I haven’t thought about him in a minute…

He was a senior while I was a sophomore, we were both imprisoned in a christian private school with a racist, religion-ist principal, namely if you weren’t of his religion (or color), you were to be despised, hated, and expelled. He kept getting sued for his treatment of people from other religions and had a sign saying he’d shoot Jehovah Witnesses if they set foot on his property. And don’t get him started on non-Causasians! Long story of a pathetic man...

Don’t worry, fate is punishing him as we speak…. I have nothing to do with it, don’t look at me like that!! He ate himself into 2 quadruple bypasses-

I call that karma.

Anyway, that was a sidebar.

The guy I had a thing for was the “bad boy”, but honestly he wasn’t that bad. Yes, he rode a motorcycle, had the darkest eyes and raven hair to his shoulders, and was built like… okay, he had muscles. He played guitar and had a beautiful singing voice, with a slight southern twang when he said certain words.

He also had a tough home life. I don’t think his mom was in the picture, and his dad was a tough love, threatening type (skewed perspective, obviously, I don’t know much about his father).

He was the type to speak his mind, and he wasn’t intimidated by the religious faction that ruled our school. Which meant that the Principal delighted in making him a target for discipline and teachers would mark him for pink slips on the daily. No lie, I don’t think a day went by when he didn’t get a pink slip/detention for stuff that, in hindsight, was quite trifling.

Collar not straight? DETENTION!!!

No kidding.

I had a massive crush plus I had a deep admiration for him since he seemed very powerful and assertive during a time of my life when I was feeling angry, powerless, and attacked constantly at my home life.

School was my weird refuge -I could escape the house and my parents with their crazy pressure to make me a better christian (yeah that worked out SOOO well). #noreligion #agnosticAtheist (I don’t care if this isn’t a thing, I question sarcastically and believe nothing that demands that proof is stated by a book via referencing that book).

Ironically, back in high school, I was already over religion. But it was like I didn’t have a will of my own, I was constantly backed into corners due to my lack of will to seize power and control. And I was sorely tempted to kill myself but I realized that killing myself meant that they would win and that it wouldn’t save me. I would need to save myself.

And I did.

But that’s another story…

So, with the darkness closing in on my life, it was a lifeline to see someone who was rising above it all, despite all the shit and flack being thrown at him.

There were moments, when I was present and tongue-tied (yeah, I was very shy back then), that he would chat with a teacher who was the only nice and sweet one around and she would try to encourage him to see it through when it got so hard he’d be angry and in tears with fists clenched with that impotent rage that frequently visits the teenage soul.

Yeah, he got angry a lot.

He got in trouble -as defined by christians who would find fault with the sun in the sky- but he survived.

And graduated.

And walked away to a better life, last I heard.

I hope he’s still kicking ass and taking names.

Anyway, I had to put my journal down, because it was quite visceral and brought back a lot of anger and memories. Now, I understand why I’m still mad at my parents -not so much, but as I reread what I went through with them….

Yes, they changed, they changed very much for the better.

But at that time, during those years, they made my life HELL.

So, no, I will no longer feel guilty that I don’t really talk to my father, or that I have a simmering resentment towards my mother. Because they earned it.

I’m not inviting back that rage or hate. But I am acknowledging that when you sow the seed, you reap the whirlwind.

Lucky for them, it’s more like a dust bowl.

They did crack my soul, but it didn’t break.

Thankfully, that didn’t poison my life. I am very happy now, I am a completely different person that who I was back then.

Back then I was miserable, angry and just making it one day at a time, hovering on the knife’s edge separating hope and death.

I’m glad I made it. To a different type of misery.

It’s so much better now.

It’s true that you forget what hasn’t been written.

P.S. Not stalking but curious, I googled him, and it looks like he got married earlier this year. Looks like he did make it. 🙂

 


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Among yet not With People

I pick up on that “among people” even if I am not “with people” vibe too, especially when I’m at Barnes & Nobles curled up with a comic or book or just writing in the knock-off Starbucks cafe section, watching people.

Some people are obviously on a date, others are doing homework in group study. Some are just chilling by themselves. In such an environment, one can just be, without being overwhelmed by maintaining conversation or putting up a front with someone else. In such moments, we are all aware of each other and accepting through our silence and lack of verbal interaction -aside from asking to share the power outlet or to watch someone’s stuff for them on a quick bathroom break.

The hum of dialogue is a soft and melodic bass, the excited voices of children a punctuation and the steadfast and plodding steps of the grandparents a slow, reliable rhythm anchoring the symphony as the coffee pot gurgles its steamy melody.

In the fall, the pumpkin spice latte accents the air, flitting around the sent of coffee and baked goods. The barista chuckles with her coworker as they argue the merits of one band’s lead singer over another. A familiar banter I hope to someday emulate with someone, someday, somewhere…

A sense of hopelessness washes over me, I turn back to the straightforward world of heroes, misunderstood and yet never alone, even when the knife of betrayal plunges into their soul over and over, they are never alone.

A sidekick, a partner, a lover, a brother, a friend, a colleague, an ally, enemy-of-my-enemy-

There is always someone…

I pull my hoodie around me, burrowing deeper into the slightly uncomfortable wooden chair perched in the window. Cars go by, there is something so hypnotic about the zoom of the vehicles from one side of the window to the other.

-Zip.

-Zap

-Zop.

We played the zip-zap-zop game in drama class, to prompt swift reaction time and to practice reacting off each others’ “energy” I guess. It was a rapid game, accompanied with a clap and slide of one palm over the other in the direction of someone else who caught the “Zip” and sent off a “Zap” to another who received and slided a “Zop” on to someone else.

Hesitate or delay, and you’re out of the game.

“Zip”     “Zap  “Zop”

“-Zip!” “-Zap!” “-Zop!”

Zip

Zap

Zop

Catch a turn of life, quickly return it to someone, somewhere else. Quickly move on before you sink and become bogged down by the intensity of the here and now.

Zip

Zap

Don’t fail to move along-

“-Zop”

Winner is all alone.

The king at the pinnacle of his throne desired a queen to sit with him. So he sent his brave knight to search the land for a woman worthy to become his queen. He waited for 30 days and 30 nights, and on the morning of the 31st day, word is brought that a queen of most noble carriage and unmatched beauty is on her way, accompanied by the king’s most courageous and loyal knight, to meet and wed the king.

How his heart burst to hear the news! His majesty could hardly contain himself. What to wear? What to do? How should he prepare to meet his most beloved queen?

The king was besides himself with joy. He commanded that the entire palace be cleaned from top to bottom, that the finest foods in the kingdom be brought and the most lauded chefs cook a banquet to honor his queen on their wedding day. All the nobles of the land were summoned to the wedding, and all the common folk brought gifts and homage to the palace, in honor of his queen.

When finally the queen-to-be arrives, the king raced forward to greet her. He noticed her delicate hands and melodic voice, her laughter and sparkling eyes. In all her raven haired beauty, none else in the kingdom could match her in beauty.

If he wasn’t in love before, his majesty was smitten by the mere sight of her.

Three days later, the wedding bells rung, and the King married his lawfully wedded Queen. The king was delighted, he achieved the pinnacle, and had at his side, the most divine of all feminine creatures. What more could he ask for?

…Loyalty

…Faithfulness

Devotion…

A month later, the king found himself in the smoldering ashes of his ambition. His most loyal knight, whom he had trusted above all others, held his blade to the King’s throat.

His queen stood by the knight’s side, her delicate hands clasped over her belly, almost 3 months pregnant.

Forced away from his kingdom, with neither queen nor support, the King of one turned to the forest with a broken heart. His army stolen, his love betrayed, he had nothing left but a hollow crown and empty arms.

Show… don’t tell…

Right.

Sometimes less is more.


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