Dreams. Dreams. Dreams.

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Once upon a time, there was a woman, and she had dreams…

Dreams. Dreams. Dreams.

She loved to soak herself in them like the warmest, most perfect bath, ever drawn.

Dreams. Dreams. Dreams.

Wisps of them–the dreams–wafted off her much like morning dew on a warm summers morning. She loved every second of them. Every single moment of those dreams. They were her happiness.

Then, one day, she realized the world was changing around her. A society that once felt forever stagnate and motionless spun and turn like a possessed top. While she was still tethered to her dreams (dreams. dreams. dreams.) Their tails wrapped around the ball of life, a long, twisted bit of twine created a tangled ring of all her moments in time.

Of all those dreams…

Until she felt stuck.

The dreams that once felt as silky as honeysuckles on a humid night’s breeze transformed. Sweetness went sour. Silk became burlap.

You may think the spinning whipped and turned her around. The tether lassoed to her ankle, wrist, heart–pulled her from her origins, thrusting her into the world. They didn’t. She was a damsel tied to the railroad tracks–a locomotive barreling down on her.

She knew it was wrong. All of it, but she’d become too obsessed, confused, disoriented to begin to understand what was happening. Especially, now… without her:

Dreams.

Dreams.

Dreams.

But one day, a notion dawned upon her. A perfect ‘a-ha’ moment pushed her through the clouds of her mind. What she figured out was none of it is real.

The tether.

The spinning globe.

The disorientation.

They were all illusions conjured by the most wicked evil maker of them all–herself.

…dreams…dreams…dreams…

She’d become so concerned with the outside perception of her she’d neglected her truth. That neglect led to her forgetting who she was and accidentally distanced herself from those                                            dreams.

The moment expanded, growing like a bubble stuck to the tip of a child’s plastic wand. Rainbows and stripes of swirling color encased her. She was the nucleus. She was the yoke floating in the center of it all. And just outside the thin veil separating her from those awful thoughts and her truth–were those dreams.

(dreams. dreams. dreams.)

She knew, while she stared through the stained glass coloring her vision, life was what she decided it to be. She was the creator of her illusion and understood what she stared at the longest became her truth.

Her fingers uncoiled and the tethers released–completely.                                                      Her dreams. All of those…             Dreams. Dreams. Dreams.

Caught in an upward current, floating high above.                                                                                                    Each dream holding every desire she’d ever harbored–bobbing reminders of who, and what, she was.

She was herself. Perfect and true.

She was the right amount of everything because she could never be her or her or even him. And her dreams… all of those dreams! (dreams. dreams. dreams.) kept her afloat and moving forward–high above everything trying to hold her back. High above herself.

The End

 

What, you may ask, is the moral of the story? Simple. You are never too old to dream. Your dreams are valid. Just because someone else doesn’t understand your dreams will never and can never diminish your dreams. And even if your first had your dream many years ago doesn’t mean it’s not the right dream because dreams don’t have expiration dates–they only fade if we give up on them.

You are perfect just as you are.

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The Blog Post

It’s so difficult for me to come on here and write. Not because I don’t want to, but because of life. I write and maintain another blog, one for a whole other branch of my life.

The more I do it, the harder it feels. Not because I don’t like it–I do. But this is what I’ve always wanted the most. Writing. It’s been my greatest love since I was seven years old. I married a writer. I gave birth to a writer… <- that is a 100% true statement. That kid, he loves to spin a good yarn. (and boy does he have the punishments to prove it.)

Does anyone else feel this way? Like, maintaining a blog is too much?

I use my spare time to work on my current WIP. I wake up at 5 am. I stay up late. I sneak in minutes here and there. I work out scenes in my head before I fall asleep, so they’re ready to go when I have my next second to sit in front of this here old computer.

The other bits of time are filled looking back at older, completed (and in dire need of a good edit) WIPs, or forward to a series I have plotted out in my head. Just like the idea of my first High School boyfriend, it’s all consuming.

And the blog is forgotten.

A land of crickets and mothballs. Cobwebs line the pages.

Yet, I want to do it! I want to have a weekly post, but the lists of “Inspirations for Writer’s Blog Posts” are about as inspiring as a cookbook from the 1970s.

How’s this for inspiring:

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In case you aren’t sure what I’m referring to ^^ that’s what I mean.

So, dear reader, please forgive me for not posting weekly, monthly, or at all. I have good intentions, much unlike the team at Betty Crocker when the staff thought, “You know what we should stuff? A head of iceberg lettuce! BRING ME THE PIMENTOS!”

“Don’t forget the olives for the fish eyes!!”

Lordy… I’m making a promise to myself to try harder. Maybe I can write about uninspired recipes from each decade? Or I can get back to working on my WIP…?

It’s not a tough decision.

Till next time…

A

 

The Internet–a rant about out society

The internet. Oh, the internet… how it has changed things. It’s changed EVERYTHING, even if we want to turn a blind eye and pretend it hasn’t.

A decade ago, when I first half-heartily considered walking the path of a writer, the world was a different place. That really wasn’t that long ago… but here we are. Turned on our heads.

The saying used to be, “Everyone is a critic,” but now it should be, “Everyone thinks they’re an expert.”

This LOOK AT ME mentality isn’t helping anyone.

Yes, I want people to read my blog. Yes, I want an agent/publisher to be interested in my books–but I want them to be interested in my work. Insta-fame is overrate.

And this constant need for *instant* notoriety and gratification is deflating.

I loath the down side to the accessibility of information and communication. I despise how many people tag themselves an expert on one topic or another. If they are an actually–certified–expert, great job! But it’s the wannabes that make my blood boils.

Once, I followed a blog that claimed themselves a grammar king–and received numerous newsletter with grammatical errors. But said site has THOUSANDS of followers. Moo-train! Moo!!

~sigh~ Obviously this tangent isn’t solving any issues, but it sure feels great to vent.

Yes, there are people out there who are knowledgeable and are willing to lend a hand. But any more, I feel there are more people selling snake oil than actual information.

Everyone wants to be famous.

My son told me he wants to be famous. He said it with a glint in his eyes.

I told him to aim higher.

Oh, the damn internet. It is such a double edge sword. One hand you have actual information and facts, and the other–“Look at me! Look at me!”

More people should look at themselves. Maybe then we’d have quality–rather than pile upon piles of know-it-all’s with limited to know knowledge of anything.

Counting down = a fun way to add stress!!

I slept terribly last night. This is another trend in my life–and another reason for the yoga/writing/change–whatever I’m calling this. (I really need a better name…)

So, this is how this how my life is, almost daily these days. My child wakes early, so I try to go to bed early and to wake even earlier than him. This way I can suck down a couple cups of coffee, and write, before he wakes.

Some days it works, others, I’m not so lucky.

Last night, for example– I couldn’t sleep, or I should say, I couldn’t stay asleep. It’s always the same story. I’ve tried valerian root and melatonin and they help me fall asleep, but I’m twice as jittery when I wake up. So I stopped taking it.

On the good nights, who cares! Life is good on the good night–am I right?

On the bad nights, like last night, I’m a mess the next day. (depressed, crying, angry, unfocused… all the good stuff.)

I fall asleep and wake up several times. When I wake up, my brain ignites with the power of the sun, and my calm is constructed like Icarus’ wings. It melts away and I’m stuck with a ‘to-do’ list longer than the Mississippi, and if that isn’t what keeps me from drifting off again–it’s some random song (last night was, This is Halloween, from Nightmare Before Christmas) that plays on a continual loop in my brain.

Then the boy wakes up early, and here I am.

Getting on the mat was a wrestling match. I spent a lot of the morning telling myself how I wasn’t going to do it. Or, I should say, Doris spent a lot of time this morning telling me it was a waste of time.

I did it anyway.

Forty-minutes. It felt like ten. It was worth it. Oh, and I’m sore. Going from periodically practicing and mostly running, to practicing daily and concentrating on strengthening poses–well, it hurts.

That is how the anxiety crumbles! (Totally not a saying and should probably never be one.)

Three down and fifty-eight to go. (Not sure why I’m counting down… what happens at one, besides 2016? What I hope is that I keep going, but for now I need to make it that fifty-eight… baby steps.. baby-baby steps.)

…maybe counting isn’t such a good idea…

Anyway! Let’s see how this goes, shall we? In the mean time… I have thirty-five pages left to edit (in this edit) so I should be getting back to that.

Until I write again… 😉

The trials of writing a short story… who knew?! (That’s right, everyone did.)

wise-asteroid

 

Look up! It’s a giant rock headed right toward us!!

…or is it?…

That’s how all of this feels – and I mean “life” by “this.” Life feels like a giant rock falling out of the sky aimed directly for my forehead.

Things take longer than planned, even with all the organization I try to put in place and the schedules I create for my writing – life comes in and…

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So there is a delay, but the story will happen. I WILL have a short story to post on this site, for you to read – if you like (which I hope you will because I’d love that. No pressure… seriously. Thank you either way…)

I have no date – but the plan is before the end of the year. Secretly (not really a secret if I post it online…) I hope it will be ready for everyone to read on Holiday break! It’s the least I can do for lovelies like yourself.

UNTIL THEN! Promise to stay positive and write more posts to keep you writing!!

xx

A

 

~Yes~

 

Hello friends!

This past week I made a decision, one I would like to share with you – because putting it out there in black and white makes it even more real. First, you should probably know that this past Wednesday was my birthday – a minor life even that has helped me come to this decision, but alas – it was actually something I decided over a month ago now.

What is it, you ask? I’ve decided to say “YES”. (see gif above)

I’ve never been big on for new year resolutions, but to be frank – this is more my new year than new years ever has been. It’s the beginning of the next year of my life – the next chapter, if you will. For once I’m putting my foot down and I’m making a change, I will no longer be a “No Girl.”

Example:

Q -“Meet me for a drink?” or “Write for [insert blog]” or “Go on said adventure?”

A -“No, I’m too tired.” or  “No, I have to work in the morning.” or “No, I have my son to look after.”

This applies to many things, not just my social life (small as it is). But now I’m yelling it to the universe, “Bring it!” I say, because I’m tired of turning stuff down, I’m tired of making excuses for myself and ending up tired in the process. Basically, I’m really tired of saying, “No.”

So, for this next year – I will be saying yes.

Yes, I will. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

YES.

Time for change.

-Aryn

 

 

 

 

 

And so it goes…

 

Life continues to come at me like small rocks in a dust storm. I take a breath when I think it’s safe, but most days my face is wrapped in a protective layer of fabric as I steer my way though the network of paths before me. Soon I’ll find the right one, or maybe I’ll realize  I’m already on the right path and the storm is just part of the process.

I’ll figure it out.

I always do.

I would like to report I have been working diligently to get my first ever self published short story online! Exciting stuff (to me it REALLY exciting stuff… like “do a little dance of glee in my bedroom between writing/ editing sessions” exciting.) And this has been made possible because of the amazing Michelle Joyce Bond [who also has a blog you should check out! It’s called, “Sleeps with Notebooks“. Go there, tell her I said hi!]

Basically, this post is merely to say thank you to anyone who reads me, who helps me, who feels compelled to keep trying because of me – because you keep me going. Yup. Never give up! Never surrender! Life is too short to live a mediocre life – live one that makes you feel spectacular.

So if you’re on here wasting time because you’re having writers block, or writers angst (which is worse than a block), or you’re scared because you think you’ll never be good enough – go write something. (And then come back and share it with me. I’d love to see it.)

Sometimes those tiny rocks are just thumping you in the head to say, “wake up!” Speaking of which, a new opening chapter to Imogen Grace won’t write itself…

Happy writing!

-Aryn

 

naked b/c I want too

Picture 257

naked doldrums

as winter winds

strip what’s left

of nothing

& I sit

naked, because

I want to, while

belts of calm

drift around

me, feathery

& light

as the sun sets

& rises & then

sets again

& I sit

naked, because

I want to, as

the world keeps

spinning, because

I can’t stop it

not that I’d

even want to

but it’s nice to

know you have

control

over everything

over nothing

& I stand

naked, because

I want to, before

I walk forward,

alone, & even

further into, everything

alone

we make promises

& we pass them

on to the next

like a proverbial fruitcake

chalked with nuts

& holes

a sanatorium wrapped

in decorative foil

& I stand

naked, because

I want to

carry me forward

please, carry me on

past the shadows

& the dust

into what everything

nothing

should have even

been / is

& join me

naked in front

of the world

accept the doldrums

& the calms

& the crazies

& the storms

that keep the world

spinning

as we pass by

as we pass on

exposed

Changes coming SOON!

Namaste all! I just wanted to let you know there will be come changes coming soon to this blog. I’m in the process of getting settled in California, but thank you to all who are still stopping by to check things out.

If you haven’t, feel free to subscribe and then you won’t have to check as often, because the posts will be sent directly to your email (how convenient!!)

The light in me honors and respects the light in you!

Have a wonderful day.

-Aryn