Floating

I have so many stories floating around in my head.  The problem is getting them on the fucking paper.  :/

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Poem

Ah, young love.   Found this poem from my youth.

 

“Untitled”

Kiss me dear

Hold my hand

Kiss my ear

Yes, you can

Love my touch

Take my breath

Scratch my back

Suck my neck

Tense my nerves

Start my fire

Spark it up

Be my desire

Knot my stomach

Spin my head

Nurse my skin

Make it red

Drink me, taste me

Rub my leg

Make me scream

and make me beg

Pin me down

Drink my juice

Make me sweat

Light a fuse

Cross my bridge

It’s nearly dawn

Come on baby,

Turn me on

Pump your love

Deep within

Warm my blood

Cool my skin

Stroke my hair

Smile at me

Stay, my love

Forever will be

Past, present/now, then

I’ve taken a bit of a hiatus on my writing.  I’m a bit disappointed in myself because for a year I was pretty committed to writing, and then I just stopped.  There are lots of reasons, I guess, but I think a problem I’ve been struggling with is the fact that I think too much about the past.  The good, the bad, whatever.  I originally started this blog as a way to work through my past by sharing personal stories.  However, I found that by opening myself up to recall those events, I was inviting all these unwanted emotions.  Shame, embarrassment, annoyance, nostalgia, longing… just to name a few.

I know, I know.  This isn’t something that is uncommon.  But honestly sometimes I wish that a lot of events in my life hadn’t remained so clearly in my mind.  I kept journals/diaries from the time I was seven years old.  When I got to my teen years, it seemed important to document things that were going on in my life, especially when it came to love and sex.  I’ve gone back to read those journals/diaries, and reading them again brought back such a crystal clear picture of what I’d been going through and how I felt.  And then suddenly I wanted to relive it, share it, and reflect on it once again.  That is why I started writing stories from my life, and why I also started writing a book.

In the midst of all of that, though, I got so caught up in the past that it started making me feel angry and resentful.  I realized that I didn’t want to relive it.  It started to get too much, too emotional for me.  The pain is still there.  I’ve been hurt by people, and I’ve also hurt myself… but I’ve never really came to terms with any of it.  I’ve never made an effort to forgive.

I’m going to try again.  This time, with a new perspective.  Make a positive out of a negative.  Not that everything in my past was bad.  It’s just the bad is sometimes what sticks out in my mind the most and tends to be what I focus on.  I’m going to try to write the good and the bad and continue to try to heal.  That is why I’m here.

It’s A Shame

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It’s a shame you weren’t the one.  I knew it from the beginning that we were only temporary.  What an awful shame it is, because I have never felt that kind of passion with anyone else.  The way you looked at me, the way you needed me, the way you wanted me, was something I could barely comprehend at the time.

It’s a shame.  I loved it all.  The raw need for you to touch me, to kiss me, to fuck me, overpowered my senses. The way you clawed at my skin and pulled me close to you so tightly, just trying to get impossibly closer; the way your lips moved so urgently against mine, as if you were running out of oxygen and I was your lifeline… I loved it all.    The stupid pet names, the obsessive texting and calling, and the ridiculous way that I needed you, I fed into it all, and it made me feel more alive than I’d ever felt.

I remember the “magic” window, and me gazing out at the night sky, and you coming up behind me and wrapping your protective arms around my waist.  You kissed my neck as we looked up at the moon and stars, and I realized that I was living a fantasy that would end very soon.  Because nothing is as it seems.  It’s a shame I was right.

The look on your face when you knew our time together was coming to end, gave me this heavy feeling inside, as if I had stones in the pit of my stomach.   We didn’t want to leave each other, but life goes on.  It’s a shame.

It’s a shame you lied.  The one thing you told me you’d never do, and you did it over and over again, and it tarnished whatever thoughts, fantasies, or future with you I thought we could have.  You tried to win me back, but it was too late.  And it’s a shame.

50 Shades of a different direction

It occurred to me a day after I wrote my review on the 50 Shades of Grey movie that a much better idea would have been a television series either by HBO, Showtime, or Netflix, rather than movies.  I think it would have been the smarter thing to do because that would have allowed more time to get into depth about who the characters really are, why they are the way they are, and could build up to who they become to each other.  It wouldn’t have to follow the books so closely and they could get rid of the horrible dialog.  I mean, True Blood was a huge success and aside from the first episode, it wasn’t really all that much like the books.

50 Shades of Grey Review

I finally forced myself to watch 50 Shades of Grey.  I did my best to go into it with an open and unbiased mind despite the fact that I thought the book was so terrible I couldn’t even finish it.  My reasons for watching it was partly curiosity and partly the fact that I don’t like to judge movies unless I’ve watched them.

So now that I’ve watched it, I can say that I was mostly correct in my assumptions about how bad it would be.  Did I hate it?  No.  But was it something I’d want to watch again or recommend to anyone?  Definitely not.

I’ll start off by saying that Dakota Johnson and Jamie Dornan were extremely stiff in their acting.  Maybe it was them or maybe it was the horrible dialogue, or maybe it was a combination of both.   Each scene felt like I was watching some amateur high school play.  The dialogue was cliche and cheesy, and had me rolling my eyes throughout the movie.  I guess that some of it was probably taken from the book, and maybe that’s the real problem.  Both actors seemed uncomfortable and unnatural in most of their scenes together.  I don’t feel that they have good chemistry at all.

So let’s get down to the sex.  There’s a lot of nudity and several sex scenes.  They are pretty graphic to the point that it made me feel like I was watching one of those after midnight soft core porn movies on Cinemax.  I mean, you just don’t see that kind of nudity in movies that are in the theater, and if you do, it’s usually just like one extreme sex scene.  This movie has more than one extreme sex scene.  I do admit that some of them were a little sexy in how they were shot.  However, the bad plot, dialogue, and acting, pretty much cancel out anything good about the movie.  I guess it didn’t help that I don’t think that Dakota Johnson is attractive at all.  And whoever gave her that horrible crooked bangs haircut should be fired.

I have to say that I do commend the actors for taking such a career risk in doing this movie.  I’m sure that many actors turned down these roles based on the BDSM sex scenes alone.  I do think this is the kind of a story that does better as a book than a movie.  Someone who doesn’t know anything about BDSM or read erotica probably won’t understand some of the references made or the appeal of the subject matter.  Also, everything seemed sort of like it’s rushed through in the movie, and I’m not sure if it’s like that in the books because as I said, I never finished the first one.  I might try again sometime, but I doubt it.  It’s extremely poorly written, and that is a big pet peeve of mine.

I know there are sequels being done for this movie. I’m not sure how those will do in the theater after the first movie.  I don’t know if I will watch any of the sequels.  I almost always dislike a sequel.  Overall, I’d say that if you’re curious, you should watch 50 Shades of Grey, but don’t go into it with expectations.  From what I understand, if you’re a fan of the books, you’ll probably be disappointed.

Away

My life has really been hectic, especially in the last few months.  In addition to working a full time professional job, I have started a new journey in being healthy and fit and have been following a steady fitness plan for the last ten weeks.  and feel like my life has really been revolving around work and exercise.  I really need to write something!  It seems like every time I think I’ll have some free time, it gets filled up by other necessary things in life.  I have a four-day weekend a month from now which I’m looking forward to!

I’m registered and doing my first 5k on May 2nd for Stroke Awareness.  My father passed away five years ago from a stroke, so it means a lot to me to do this 5k.  I’m excited!  It’s a walk/run 5k, and I’m not ready to run one yet, but I’m just glad to be doing it, even if I’ll be walking most of the time.

The First Dance

slow_dance_by_pixel16-d2yy6op

The First Dance

The first time I danced with a boy was in the sixth grade. It seemed like such a big deal back then, dancing with boys.

I met Chris when I attended my first ever boy/girl party. My friend Susan was having a birthday party at her house and she’d invited the entire class.  I had never even been to a dance or party before that was co-ed.  All the parties I’d been to previously had been all girls or were slumber parties, so when I first found out this was going to be a party with both boys and girls, and that there would be dancing, the idea of it was uncomfortable to me.  I was a quiet and shy girl, and I wasn’t all that great at mingling with other kids that I didn’t know.  Susan and I were in different classes and so I knew that I wouldn’t know a lot of the kids, which was a little intimidating to me.  Plus, I knew I wasn’t a good dancer.   Granted, I’d been been taking ballet and jazz dance classes for years, but I had no idea how to dance freestyle — let alone, slow dance with a partner.  However, the more I thought about attending this party, the more I started to romanticize it.  Maybe some handsome boy would pick me out of all the girls, to dance, and literally sweep me off my feet?  Yes, he’d smile at me as he took my hand, and whirl me around the dancefloor — our steps in perfect rhythm and stride, of course — and as we’d dance, he’d gaze down at me with lovesick eyes.

I decided to attend.

The night of the party, I was all jitters.  Every piece of clothing in my closet suddenly seemed too hideous to wear to a potential life-changing event such as this.  What would I wear?  I didn’t want to be overdressed, but I also worried about looking too casual.  I changed my outfit numerous times before finally settling on the dress I wore when my mom took me to get my pictures done at JCPenny.  It wasn’t my favorite, but it was the only dress I owned that didn’t look overly dressy.

My hair was another horrible disaster to work with.  I made sure to wash it and prayed that it would dry nicely, and not into a stupid frizzy mess.  Thanks, Grandma!  My grandmother had insisted that I get a perm when I’d visited her last.  When I’d had it done I looked like Shirley Temple with glasses.  Since then my hair had grown longer, but if I didn’t style it just right while it was still wet, it would end up looking like a stupid curly frizzy mop on my head.  People with shoulder-length hair just shouldn’t be encouraged to get a perm.  I know that was sort of in style in the early nineties, but I’d really mourned the days that I had simple, straight, non-frizzy hair.  I hated having a perm.  If only I’d known the miracle of a flat iron back then, I think my life could have been drastically changed for the positive.  It wasn’t until the eighth grade that my mom came up with the idea to straighten my hair at home with perm solution — and it actually worked — that I finally became happy with my hair again!

After I got dressed, I sighed a breath of relief as I looked in the mirror and saw that my hair had actually dried without looking stupid.  It was a good thing too, because I didn’t own any hats.

As I looked at my reflection, I still frowned at the sight of my dreaded glasses, though.  My stupid, stupid, glasses that made me look so nerdy.  The last few years prior I had only needed them for reading, but that year my eyesight had weakened and now I needed to wear them all the time.  I hated them and couldn’t wait until I was old enough to get contact lenses.

My mom dropped me off at the party right on time.  Susan’s parents lived in a beautiful home in La Jolla with a large back yard.  It was evening, and we’d all be outside in the back where there was a large deck, which also apparently made a great dance floor.  I was impressed as I looked around the spacious decorated yard.   Strings of colorful party lights were strewn throughout, and the trees and bushes twinkled with white Christmas lights.  Off to the side, were two tables that had finger foods, snacks, and punch, and a third table had birthday presents on it, which were now starting to pile up.

The latest hit songs from New Edition and Boyz II Men roared on the boombox, however, no one was dancing yet, which I was grateful for.  Maybe I wasn’t the only one who didn’t know how to dance?

As kids arrived, they immediately walked onto the deck to find a familiar face or group to talk to.  I hung out by the pretzel bowl and observed until Susan and our friend Casey, came over to talk to me.

“What in the world is David Cisco wearing?” Susan laughed.  We all looked over at David, a tall, husky kid, who was wearing black slacks and a bright button-up shirt with hideous fluorescent colors bright enough to blind a man.  We watched as he animatedly flung his arms about as he joked and laughed with some other boys.  His longish wavy hair, which normally looked as if it hadn’t been brushed in days, was surprisingly neatly combed and gelled.

“He wore that shirt to Michael Fitz’s Chucky Cheese party too.  I think that’s his party shirt,” Casey said, giggling behind her hand.

On cue, David looked over at us and nodded and winked, which caused us to burst out laughing.

“I think he’s looking at you, Casey!” Susan laughed.

Casey’s face turned bright red.  “Oh my God.  So embarrassing.”

“I think it’s nice that someone likes you,” I said.

Casey shook her head.  “I don’t think he likes me.  I think he likes everyone,” she said.  “I saw him give that same look to Michelle just ten minutes ago.”

“Oh.”

As we talked, I remember staring at the boys and thinking that it felt strange seeing them outside of school, out of the environment that I’d been comfortable and accustomed to seeing them in.  Amazingly, they all seemed to be on their best behavior.  Even Ryan Duncan, a boy who notoriously teased, chased, and tormented all the girls on the playground, was being cordial — and one could even go as far as to say he was being nice.  At one point he actually came up to us and said hello without adding a single mean remark — or belching in our face. My guess was he didn’t want to ruin his chances of a girl dancing with him later.

Before long, kids started dancing, and I was impressed as I watched them all move to the beat of the music.  Suddenly everything seemed so different. It all felt so cool and even high school-ish, being there.  Everyone looked so mature, as girls and boys swayed to the music with their arms around each other, and I thought about the time in fifth grade when my class had been forced to learn how to square dance, which, of course, required holding the hand of your partner.  All the kids had been mortified at the thought of having to touch the opposite sex, and those with long sleeves that day stretched them over their hands so they were covered, just so they wouldn’t have to actually touch the bare skin of their partner’s hand.  Things certainly had changed in a year!  No one was screaming, “Gross!” this time or squirming to get away as the they all danced with their hands on their partner’s shoulder or waist.

I stood there and watched as some of the kids danced, and couldn’t help but feel a little sad and left out.  Things hadn’t gone the way I’d imagined them.  No one had asked me to slow dance yet, and I’d avoided dancing during the fast songs because I knew I’d look like a complete idiot.  What was worse was that it seemed like everyone had already partnered up with someone for the night, and I started to wonder if that had been done in advance and I hadn’t gotten the memo.  Even Ryan, the burper, was dancing with a girl.

I was surprised when Kat, who’d been my best friend since kindergarten but had begun ignoring me since the beginning of the school year to hang out with her much cooler new friends, walked over to me between songs to ask if I was having a good time.

“I guess so,” I said.  “No one has asked me to dance.”

“Oh.  Well, I’m sure someone will ask you sooner or later,” she said, and took a sip from her cup of punch.  “Just be sure to stay away from Mickey, though.  He’s mine,” she said, and then turned on her heel, and left me standing there.   It was the longest conversation we’d had in weeks.

I ended up walking over to join a small group of kids where Kat and Mickey were.  They were all taking a break from dancing.  I stood there silently as they talked, and then Mickey suddenly starting laughing and pointing up at the large tree that the deck was built around.  Its long branches hovered high over us.

“Hey, freak, what the heck are you doing?” he shouted.

We all looked up and I noticed a boy with blond hair and glasses sitting in the tree.  He was holding a styrofoam cup in one hand and munching on a cookie.   He stared down at us and grinned as if he had a secret we didn’t know.

“Why is he in the tree?” Kat asked, confused.

Mickey shrugged.  “Who knows?  He’s a weirdo,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“The kid’s a total wimp.  I bet he’s hiding from the girls,” another boy said with a laugh.

The boy in the tree seemed unaffected by their comments.  As I looked up at him we made eye contact and he smiled at me.  I quickly looked away, a little embarrassed, and wondered if I had imagined it.  Had he just smiled at me?

she-embraces-true-love-all-its-slow-dancing-outside-prom-glory

For the next half hour, I stood around and continued watching the other kids dance, every once in a while, looking up into the tree to see if the boy was still there, which he was.

It wasn’t until the song “It’s Too Hard to Say Goodbye” suddenly started playing on the boombox, that it finally happened.  I felt a tap on my shoulder, and when I turned around, I saw the blond boy from the tree standing there and smiling down at me, his toothy grin showing off his braces.  I was surprised to see that he was quite a bit taller than I was.

“Do you wanna dance?” he asked.

I bashfully grinned back at him and nodded.  He put his arms on my shoulders, and I put my hands on his waist, and we began to slow dance right where we were standing.

He told me his name was Chris, and I told him my name. We were both kind of quiet at first, probably because we were a little nervous.  I could feel my heart racing, and I was pretty sure that I was blushing.  I just hoped that I didn’t look as stiff as I felt while we danced.

When the song was over and a fast song started to play, I was relieved when Chris asked if I wanted to get something to drink.   We walked over to where the snacks and punch bowl were at and made small talk, and he told me a few corny knock-knock jokes — which I, of course, laughed at.

When another slow song came on, Chris asked me if I wanted to dance again, and I told him I did.  We weren’t dancing as intimately as I had fantasized about with my dream boy, but I didn’t mind.  We were dancing how kids should dance.  At one point Chris told me that our dancing reminded him of being on a boat, and I laughed.

As we danced, we stared at each other, and I thought to myself that I couldn’t believe that I was dancing with him, and how cute I thought he was.  It was less nerve wracking the more we talked, and I realized that I wasn’t feeling awkward anymore.  Chris had a way of making me laugh that made me relax.   Plus, he wore glasses too, which made me feel less self conscious.

“So you’re in Mrs. Smith’s class?  I’m surprised we haven’t ever seen each other at recess or lunch,” I said.

“Well, I don’t really like to hang out with the other kids at school.  I kind of like being by myself,” he admitted.

“Where do you eat lunch?” I asked.

He shrugged.  “Different places.  Sometimes I like to eat in the classroom or on the grass on the field.”

Well, that explained why I hadn’t seen him before.

“I didn’t have any friends for a while when school started,” I said.  “My friend, Kat, kind of ditched me when we started at this school this year.  We used to be best friends, like, since kindergarten.”

He frowned.  “What a crummy thing to do,” he said.  “I know her, she’s in my class. She’s always hanging out with Brooke and that jerk, Mickey.”

“I was friends with this girl named Maria, too, and one day she just stopped talking to me.  I’m not sure why,” I said with a frown.  I wasn’t sure why I was telling him all of this.  Maybe because I hadn’t said it out loud yet.

“You’re Susan’s friend, though.  Right?” he asked.

I nodded and smiled.  “Yeah.  Susan and I became good friends at sixth grade camp.  We have a lot in common.”

“Like what?”

“We both play the piano.”

“You can play the piano?”

“Yeah.  I’ve been playing since I was five.”

“That’s really cool.”

“Thanks,” I smiled.  “What do you like to do?”

“I like comic books.  And movies.  I love going to the movies.”

“Me too.”

“Maybe we can go sometime?”

I felt myself blush.  “Um, maybe.  I’d have to ask my parents.”

He nodded.

It turned out to be a great night.  Chris was my dance partner for the rest of the party, and I didn’t care that anyone was staring at us or whispering and giggling.  I was having fun, and nothing was going to ruin it for me.

When mom came and picked me up at the end of the night and asked if I’d had a good time, all I could do was grin and nod.

Chris was my first boyfriend.  We talked on the phone, and I went on my first date with him — the movies.  He picked “The Brave Little Toaster” for our date, and I wondered if he’d try to hold my hand.  He didn’t.  He was completely and totally enthralled in the animated cartoon.

Our parents thought our relationship was “adorable”.  When we saw each other at the cake auction at school, my mom made sure to snap some very humiliating photos of the two of us.  Chris was smiling big, while I had my arms crossed in front of me and looked extremely embarrassed.  Once in a while I take out my old photo album and look at that picture and laugh.

Chris and I got another chance to dance again when our class had its end-of-the-year school dance.  I had been excited about it, but somehow it wasn’t quite as magical as the first night we’d met.

He ended up moving away at the end of the school year, and we lost touch.  I was a little bummed out, but then again I was ready to move on.  Middle school was coming, after all, and there would be more dances.

Sensitivity

I realize that one of the things that I need to continue to work on is to try not to be so sensitive or take things so personally. I’m extremely sensitive, and have always have been.  I’m aware that it partly stems from my childhood, and some of it stems from being constantly picked on in my relationship with my ex and being in defensive mode for all those years.

I’ve made a lot of improvements over the years in dealing with anxiety, but I am still learning how to just let things go and to not give so much power to my hurt feelings.  There will probably always be a need to feel validated, accepted, and liked. I care what other people think of me — friends, family, co-workers, strangers — and I struggle with that, especially in the workplace.   I’m the kind of person who gets along with most everyone.  I’m easygoing and nice, and I work well with others.  So when I feel people are judging me or if I find out they are saying things about me that are negative, I get upset.  If I feel like I’m being rejected in some kind of way, I get my feelings hurt.  It could be something as small as knowing that some of my friends went out to lunch and didn’t invite me.  Stupid petty things like that.    I tend to over-analyze and over-think most things, which doesn’t help, but that’s just my personality.

High School Meloncholy

I found these four old poems I wrote my senior year of high school — seventeen years ago.  Wow, has it really been that long?

 

“YOU LIAR”

The dreaded crow

black as coal

crows fiercely,

cooling my soul.

It attacks my conscious,

bites at my humility.

I’m left with a bloody feeling,

Please spare my anxiety.

Don’t cry now,

excess water is dry.

No more strength left,

I will no more rely

 

“UNTITLED”

Free as a bird with wings,

my soul weekly sings,

and it brings,

a melody of sorted things;

A palace of kings,

to withdraw rings,

with their swords they swing,

a faded memory burns with springy slings.

 

“HELD BACK”

Spinning spirals of curse,

in my mind to grow old,

down with tears built,

my soul powerful and bold.

A tree limb with a nest of eggs,

ready to crash to the ground,

numb are my legs.

Drag me to the hole to be reborn.

 

“YOU WANT ME?”

Torn apart to think back

of the sweet lust that once was,

it was ripped to shreds

when you stopped calling without a cause.

Now you’ve come back,

with confessed apologies and regrets,

I don’t know what to think,

my heart is full with threats.

I want to forgive in my heart,

but my soul wants to forget you exist,

I can’t say no to your kisses,

altogether you’re too hard to resist.

 

“STUDLY CRAVING”

You sit there all innocent

like you do nothing wrong,

sometimes I almost believe

your pathetic manipulative song.

I know you’re not for me

but I just can’t resist,

Oh, just take me now

I really do insist!

It all comes down

to friendship or lust,

I’m still trying to figure

if you deserve my trust.

You can’t have it your way,

That would be unfair,

it’s just not right

to follow through with this affair.

Do you really want me?

The Problem With Dating a Drop-Out

High School Diary Chronicles

Summary:  Apparently I put these two letters in my diary that my then-boyfriend, Steven,  wrote to me, who was an ex gang member.  As you can see, his mentality hadn’t changed much as a drop-out.  All I can say now, is love is blind.

December 4, 1995

Dear Diary,

When my dad came and got me after I performed in the parade, I asked him if I could go to Steven’s for a little while. He said yes, if he could talk to his mom again, and he did when we got home.  I got to Steven’s house like at 3:45. My dad was planning on picking me up at 5:00 so it sucked because we didn’t have too much time to hang out.

So when I got there, Steven invited me in, and we went to his room. I asked him for my letter. He didn’t want to give me the letter because he said that it was bad. I said I didn’t care. We were just talking, and he got up to show me something, and I just got up and went to him, and we hugged and kissed, and I told him I missed him. He said it back–I think–I wasn’t paying attention. I finally got him to give me the letter he wrote. While I was reading it, he grabbed it away from me and said he changed his mind, but I got it back from him. As I read it, he was just holding me. I think he was afraid I was going to be really pissed at him. I wasn’t really, just a little upset. The first letter said:

11-24-95

Hello Babe,

How are you? Me okay, so what? I’m not in a great mood, as you now. That’s why I’m writing to say that I’m very sorry for being an asshole to you on the phone today. I just have a lot on my mind and it really didn’t help when I found out that that guy has been bugging you. I have to say this before I tell you how I found out. Remember I told you I have someone keeping an eye on you? I wasn’t lying. I was kicking it with him last night and we talked a lot, and he told me that’s all he knows. I’m not trying to be jealous, I just want to know if you’re having any problems. And I love you. I’d never dream of hurting you or you getting hurt because of me, and when you wouldn’t give me his number, it was like you were protecting him. That really hurt me. If I was not so much in love with you and didn’t care for your feelings, I’d just do it my way and go to see him, and you know what I’ll do to him. But I was going to try it the nice way and just tell him the most nicest way I could and warn him over the phone. But you promised if he does it again you’ll tell me his number.  But if you don’t tell me and I find out from friends, I will do it my way. And I don’t want to because you’ll be mad at me, and I don’t like hurting people.  But I don’t like people fucking with you because they’re not fucking with you, they’re fucking with me, and I’m not someone to fuck with because I don’t have much of a life. I will do whatever I have to, to make sure that you don’t have problems, even if it means my life or going to jail, because right now you’re my life, so I won’t let anything happen to you. If you don’t understand, in a nutshell just tell me. Because I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you happy. OK? If you still don’t understand, please ask. Well I’ll change the subject. I had a lot of fun on Wednesday. I wished it didn’t end. I hope we can spend more time together. Well I’m going to bed so I can have some more good dreams about you. That’s all I can do is think about you all day and night.

Love you 4-ever

Steven

(Here’s the second letter)

11-28-95

Hello. So how are you? Me OK just kicking it waiting for your letter. So I hope you’re having fun at Melissa’s. Oh, I’m mad at you because it’s almost too late for you to call and you haven’t. Well to change the subject. I sent the letter so AHAHA. Well that’s all except if Melissa’s boyfriend tries to say any shit about me and I find out, I will kill him. Not just beat him–kill him. So don’t try to stop me. It’s just a warning. But I’m not trying to get you mad at me. I’ll let you go. I love you 4-ever. I love you more than you love me. (Maybe the same.)

Steven XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

She’s A Heartbreaker

High School Diary Chronicles

January 24, 1995

Dear Diary,

Well, a lot has happened today!  Tim and I broke up.  Actually, I dumped him — well, in his words, we “parted”.  I just started to realize that I don’t want to go out with anyone right now.  I’m not responsible enough to be in a relationship. He took it very hard. I wrote him a letter saying that I wanted to break up.  I think that he knew, because I was acting like such a bitch to him in sixth period today.  I feel bad that I did that now. How stupid can I get?

Anyways, after school I gave him the letter, and he asked if the letter was good or bad.  I told him to just read the letter. But as he started to read the letter, I told him not to read it in front of me.  He asked me if I was going to dump him. I said, “Yes, but you’ll understand in the letter.”  He then had tears in his eyes, and said, “You’re dumping me?” and I said “Yes,” and he said, “But I’m in love with you,” and then just started to cry right there.  I have never felt so bad in all of my life.  I know that I hurt him.  He then gave me a hug and a kiss, and left in tears.  God, I felt so bad.

Doubts

Have you ever re-read something you’ve written that you once thought was good, but now you’re not so sure?  I don’t know why but after re-reading some of the story I’ve been working on, I’m having a lot of doubts about the flow — actually, I’m having doubts about more than that; too much detail on some things, maybe not enough detail or back story on others, paragraphs too wordy, others not wordy enough, too much dialogue… the list goes on.

I can’t give up, I’ve spent way too much energy into it already to just give up.  Maybe at one point I should consider finding a volunteer to read some of my stuff and see if they can give me a honest professional opinion on how well it is flowing or make suggestions to me on how I can improve it.  I can kind of see why some authors work with a writing group or a co-author.

It’s progress

I’m doing so much re-writing that sometimes it almost feels like I’m going backwards in my progress.  I know better than that, though.  It is starting to read a lot better, and I hope to finally be done with this particular section soon so that I can get on with the story.

You ever write something and can imagine it like a real scene in your head, but when you read it back it feels like it’s missing something?  Yeah, that’s what has been happening here.  I’ve been going through and taking out unnecessary words, shortening/simplifying sentences, cutting and pasting dialogue, sentences, and/or paragraphs and moving them to another place where they work better.  The list goes on.  It’s a miracle I haven’t hung my hat up on this project, but I’m actually really excited to see where I can take these characters.  Little thoughts and details on how to improve the story come to me every day, and I am working hard on these re-writes, although it feels like it’s going at a snail’s pace.

I don’t have an outline, so right now this book feels never-ending.  This is my New Year’s resolution:  to stick this story out to the very end — even if it take me ten years!  Hopefully it won’t take THAT long though…

My biggest fear is to publish this book and have people hate my writing style.

Do any of you go through this when you’re writing?

The Cost of Love… Or Something Like it (Luke’s POV) Excerpt

Title: The Cost of Love… Or Something Like it

Rated: R

Summary:  Two friends face complications when their relationship starts to grow into something else.

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I was just getting home from work when my cellphone rang.  I looked at the caller I.D. with surprise, and answered it.

“Hey, you,” I smiled.

I walked into my bedroom and held the phone to my shoulder as I started undressing out of my dirty work clothes.

“Hey,” Julie answered.

“What’s up?”

“Um, not much.  Are you busy tonight?”

My heart skipped a beat and I couldn’t help but grin. Julie rarely initiated plans.  “No, not really.  I mean, I was just going to call a couple of friends to see if they wanted to meet up to play some pool or something.”

“Oh.  Well, I just wanted to talk to you about something.  It shouldn’t take long.”

I frowned.  “Is there a reason you can’t tell me now?” I asked, suddenly alarmed.  It was never a good sign when a girl said they wanted to talk in person.

“You know, I’d rather not talk about it over the phone.  I can come by, if you’d like, or we can meet somewhere.  It’s up to you.”

“Yeah, sure.  Come on by.  I was about to get in the shower, though, so give me like a half an hour.”

“All right.  I’ll see you soon,” she said, and hung up.

I sighed.  What now?

Being friends with Julie came with a full list of complications, yet I couldn’t seem to tear myself away from her.  Lots of guys probably would have already given up or blown her off by now, but there was just something about her that made me hold on, and made me keep coming back for more.  Maybe it was because we’d known each other for years, or maybe it was because she was a complete fucking mystery to me… and I loved that about her. Or if I’m being honest, it was probably because I couldn’t help myself.  I couldn’t resist her or being around her, even though I knew it would just cause more trouble if other people were to find out what had been going on between us lately.   We had this amazing chemistry, and I just couldn’t pull myself away, even if I knew it was probably the right thing to do.

Almost exactly a half an hour later, I heard my doorbell rang just as I was slapping on some aftershave.

I rushed to open the door and and when I saw Julie standing there, I tried not to make it obvious about how hot I thought she looked in her low-cut blouse and shorts.

“Hi,” I smiled, and opened the door wider for her to walk into my apartment.

“Hey,” she smiled back, and walked in, subtly observing the living space.

“Have a seat,” I gestured to the sofa.  “Can I get you a beer or something?”

“Oh, no.  I’m good.  Thanks,” she said.  I watched as she sat down on the sofa, showing off her well-toned legs as she crossed one over the other.  I swallowed, and made my way to the kitchen to get myself a beer.

“So what is it you wanted to talk about?” I asked, sitting on the sofa next to Julie, and taking a swig of my Corona.

“Well…” she started, and then seemed to hesitate.  I stared at her and waited for her to continue.  “I saw Heather last night,” she said.

I rolled my eyes and then shook my head and laughed.  “Oh, here we go,” I said, as I leaned my head back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling.  “What did she say about me this time?” I asked, dryly.

“It’s nothing like that.  She didn’t say anything bad about you,” she said.

“For once,” I mumbled.  “So what about Heather then?”

“Actually, I’m here because I wanted to tell you in person that this –” she gestured with her hands towards both me and herself, “this, whatever is happening between us, needs to stop.”

I gave Julie a confused look.  “I don’t understand.”

“I know that it’s not all your fault, but I’m being put in a really awkward position with my friend because of you, and it’s not a great feeling.  It’s awkward and weird when she talks to me about the two of you.  I don’t want to hear about what goes on behind closed doors, especially after knowing that you and I… well, you know..”

I cracked a smile.  “Are you jealous?” I asked.

Julie gave me a look that told me I’d said the wrong thing.  “I’m trying to be serious, Luke.”

“Okay, you’re right.  I’m sorry,” I said, even though I wasn’t really sure what I should be sorry for.

“No, I’m sorry.  I should have known better than to start anything with you.  I knew it wasn’t a good idea to begin with.”

“Wow.  Okay,” I said, taking in the sting of her words and the feeling of rejection that followed.

“Shit.  This is coming out all wrong,” she said, shaking her head.

“No, I get it,” I said, leaning back on the sofa.  “As usual, I’m the asshole,” I muttered, and took a swig of my beer.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” she frowned.  “Heather is one of my best friends, and she tells me things, because that’s what friends do.  She tells me all these personal details about the two of you and –”

I shifted my body so that we were facing each other.  “Look, I’m sorry that you’re feeling awkward, but it’s not my fault that she likes to kiss and tell.”

Julie looked down at her hands and started to fiddle with her fingernails.  “I know.  And she doesn’t even know about anything that has happened between us, so that makes it even harder.  I guess I feel a little guilty. ”

“Why should you feel guilty?  We haven’t really done anything to feel guilty about, Julie.”

She looked up at me.  “Somehow I don’t think that Heather would see it that way.  I know that you and I aren’t together or anything, but I guess what I’m saying is that I don’t want this to turn into something that might end up hurting people.”

“Okay.  So…”

“So I think it’s better if you and I don’t hang out anymore.”

“Wait a minute.  Are you saying we can’t be friends anymore?”

Julie shook her head.  “No — I don’t know.  I’m saying that you and I — well, nothing can happen between us anymore.  And I’m not sure how realistic it is to think that you and I can be friends without letting anything physical happen.”

I knew she was right, but couldn’t justify us not seeing each other anymore.

“You can’t have it both ways, Luke,” she continued.  “I’m not going to feel right about any of it unless you stop sleeping with Heather, and let’s face it, I don’t think you’d be willing to do that.”

I looked at Julie curiously.  “So you’re asking me to choose.”

“More like I’m setting boundaries.”

Ugh!  Why couldn’t women just say exactly what it is they meant instead of dancing around the issue and dabbling with semantics?

“But that’s what you’re saying, though, is that it’s either you or her.  Right?”

“I just — you probably don’t know this about me, but I’m not the kind of girl who likes messing around, and I don’t like games.  I like dating and being in relationships. I’m not even saying that I want you to be my boyfriend.  I’m just saying that I don’t want to be put in this position anymore.  And if you’re going to keep sleeping with Heather, then that’s fine.  No big deal, and no hard feelings.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked.

She shook her head.  “Let’s not even go there, Luke.  If that happens, then we’ll talk about it at that time.”

I looked down and stared at my hands.  Could I do that? Could I choose? Heather wasn’t my girlfriend, but if I wanted to find out where things with Julie could go, I’d have to stop sleeping with Heather.  Suddenly, the challenge intrigued me.

“And what would you say if I told you right now that I wanted to be with you?” I asked, leaning in closer to her face.

Julie pulled her head back and gave me a doubtful look.  “I’d say you were full of shit.”

I was slightly offended.  “What, you don’t think I could be serious about wanting to be with you?”

Julie laughed.  “Honestly?  No, I don’t.  You’ve got too much stuff going on right now, Luke.  I mean, with you and Annette always being on and off, and then you and Heather, and whatever other skank you’ve been secretly seeing on the side, I’m not even going to pretend that you’re going to be able to stop all of that.  I don’t want to be just another one of your ‘girls’,” she said.

“Well, thanks for making it crystal clear that you have, like, zero confidence in me or what I have to say,” I huffed.

“I’m not trying to be mean, Luke.  I just don’t want you to have to lie.  Don’t you understand?  I don’t want you to just tell me what you think I want to hear, then fall for you, and then you end up screwing around with other people anyway and doing to me what you’ve done to Annette.  That’s just not cool.”

I sighed.  “You know this is who I am.  I don’t understand what it is you want from me,” I said, feeling frustrated.

“Nothing.  I don’t want anything from you.  I just wanted you to know where I stand, and that whatever may have been going on between us, is now over.”

Julie and I hadn’t really done a lot of fooling around, but the thought of stopping… well, I didn’t like thinking about that. I liked Julie, I always had.  These feelings I had for her now were a bit new, but they were real, and I was still trying to sort them out.

We sat in silence for a moment as I considered what Julie had said.  I did understand why she was telling me all of this, even if I didn’t like it.  She was just trying to protect herself, and I really couldn’t fault her for that.  We both knew that I wasn’t good at monogamy or being with just one girl.

Julie avoided my eyes, as she looked down at her lap, her hands, her fingernails — anywhere but me.  I knew that it probably hadn’t been easy for her to confront me like this.  I knew that she didn’t like drama or controversy.

“Hey,” I whispered, and gently took her chin in my hand so that she had no choice but to look at me.  “It’s okay.  I understand.”

She blinked and seemed to be searching my face to see if I was being sincere. I stared back into those beautiful green eyes, and then at Julie’s full kissable lips, and couldn’t help myself.  I traced my index finger down the side of her face, enjoying the feel of her soft, flawless, skin under my fingertips.  My eyes followed the trail of my finger, as if trying to memorize every curve of her face.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered, circling my thumb around the little freckle on her right cheek, and caressing the skin there.  Julie closed her eyes and let out a small sigh.

It was there for her too.  I could see it in her eyes, and feel it as she trembled under my touch.  She couldn’t deny that there was something between us that made others pale in comparison.  It had been that way between us even the first time we’d kissed, four years earlier, after her high school graduation party.

I allowed my fingers to lightly travel around to the back of Julie’s neck, and weave through her long silky brunette hair, before gently pulling her to me.  Then I kissed her.  It was a soft kiss, and I let my lips linger a moment before kissing her again.  She was intoxicating; the way she tasted, the way she smelled, the way her lips and tongue seemed to move perfectly against mine.  My heart started to beat faster in anticipation of what might happen next.

I felt my lower regions respond as Julie and I continued to kiss, and it got intense very quickly, as it usually does with us.  I didn’t give it a second thought as I pulled her up onto my lap while we kissed, and couldn’t help but moan as my hands slid down to gently grab her ass and elicited a sexy moan in return from her.

Almost as suddenly as the kiss started, it stopped, and I was a bit startled when she abruptly pulled away and rolled off of my lap, breaking our spell.

“Why do you always do this?  I’m not some fucking toy you can play with, Luke.”  She looked almost angry with me.

I stared back at her and then leaned in and gave her a hug.  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, and then rested my forehead against hers, as I struggled to catch my breath. “You just — you drive me crazy.  Do you know that?” I asked, fighting the urge to touch her again.

“It can’t happen again.”

I nodded. “Okay.  All right.  If that’s what you want.”  I looked at her and tried to read her expression.  “Listen.  I know what you probably think of me, but whether you believe it or not, I do care a lot about you.”

“Yeah, okay,” she dismissed, and began straightening up her clothing before standing up.

I stood up and gently grabbed her shoulder so that she was facing me, and looked directly into her eyes, hoping that she’d see the truth in mine.  “Okay?” I repeated.

Julie nodded.  “I have to go,” she said.  I could tell that she probably wasn’t buying what I was trying to tell her.  She turned around and grabbed her purse from the sofa.

“Wait.”

Julie looked back at me hesitantly.

“Do you remember that one day — before any of this craziness started, back in the beginning — when we hung out for the first time just the two of us?  The day we went to the beach and just hung out and ate tacos.”

She frowned in confusion.  “Yeah.  What does that have to do with anything?”

“When I think about you, that’s what comes to mind.  It’s what makes me smile when I think about you.  Because when I’m around you, I feel like that is the only time I can be completely honest.  It’s like… you know me in a way that no one else does, and you call me out on my bullshit.  I can be myself when I’m with you.”

She stared at me curiously, probably wondering if I was just telling her what she wanted to hear.  But in all honesty, I was being one hundred percent truthful.  I just hadn’t really thought about it that much until that moment.  I realized that when I was with Julie, I felt free.

Julie stared at me a moment, raised her hand to my cheek, and gently caressed it.  Suddenly her soft lips on mine once again.

“I like you, Luke,” she whispered, after she broke our kiss.

“I like you too,” I said.  I felt my heart pounding in my chest and immediately leaned down to attempt to capture her lips again, but she pulled away.

“I like you,” she repeated.  “But you really need to do some growing up.”

Without a further word, she turned and walked out of my apartment — and my life, leaving me standing there by myself and confused as to what the hell had just happened.

I had no idea that the next time I’d see her beautiful face would be two years later.

Bill Cosby Scandal

I grew up watching the Cosby Show like millions of other people.  I always loved Bill Cosby’s Jello pudding commercials when I was a kid as well.  He made me laugh, and I enjoyed watching his show.  I was both surprised and disturbed when I read the rape allegations again him.  And although I do believe that someone should be presumed innocent until proven guilty, I also believe that when a person or a group of persons claim that they have been raped by one individual, it should be taken seriously.

When reading the articles about the allegations, it was pretty troubling to then read the comments by some of Bill Cosby’s supporters.  Just because he is a celebrity, played a role-model-type father figure on a TV show, and is considered by some to be morally superior to others, that doesn’t mean that he’s not capable of committing a crime.  These comments made by people were the typical comments you hear from those who are uneducated in sex crimes.  These are some examples of comments I read:

1)  “Someone waited thirty years to come forward?  Something smells fishy here.”

It’s a well known fact that a lot of rape victims do not report the crime to the police, and sometimes do not even tell a single person what happened to them.  There’s lots of reasons for this, but just to name a few:  Self blame, embarrassment, fear, or not wanting to “stir the pot.”  Also, the victim may be so traumatized that they are unwilling to talk about it to avoid reliving it again.

Then there’s always the fear that they {the victim} will not be believed, or that people will blame them for what happened.  When a sexual assault occurs with a family member or trusted mentor, victims are less likely to report the incident or tell anyone.

2)  “Who would be involved with someone after they were sexually assaulted?”

It is often the case that rape is committed by someone the victim knows.  It could be a boyfriend/girlfriend, it could a neighbor, friend, or even a spouse or a relative.  A sexual predator will often times manipulate the situation either by acting blameless, making it seem like nothing wrong took place, or make it seem like it is a much less of a big deal than it actually is.  Any one of these tactics can confuse the victim into thinking that maybe what happened wasn’t rape or that they are blowing things out of proportion.

3)  “He would never do that.  I don’t believe any of this for a second.”

It’s amazing to me that people would assume that someone they don’t even personally know is not capable of a sexual crime, just because of his or her status in Hollywood or because he or she played “a good guy” for so many years on a hit family TV show.  But guess what?  Actors are human.  They do wrong things just like everyone else.  Take Stephen Collins, for example, who played a pastor and father of seven children on the hit family drama 7th Heaven.  There was a recorded therapy session in which he admitted to his wife, to molesting young girls when he was a younger man.  If his wife hadn’t given that recording to the media, people would have just went on assuming that he was a great guy.  Just because an actor plays a role model on TV, that doesn’t make them a saint in real life.

4)  “These women just want money!  You don’t wait 30 years to report a crime.”

It doesn’t surprise me that people automatically assume that the motive for this is money.  However, several of the women who have come forward are already successful women, and they are not asking for anything, they just want to get their story out there.  Some of the women are even Jane Does.  Because a lot of victims refuse to come forward, sometimes it helps when others speak up, because then they feel they’re not alone and that others understand what they’ve gone through.  Me, being a rape victim myself, I never reported it, and I kept it quiet for quite a few years.  I wouldn’t even write about it in my diary because I didn’t even want to think about it.  I was 17 years old at the time, and am now 34.  If I had found out that the person who raped me had done the same thing to other girls, I maybe would have felt more brave to speak out.  My point is, just because you wait ten, twenty, or even thirty years later to speak up about a crime, that doesn’t mean you’re a liar and that it didn’t happen.

5)  “He is not that kind of person.  He is good and kind!”

A person can have a great personality and sense of humor.  They can give to charity, volunteer at a hospital, or feed the homeless.  A person can be good and kind.  That doesn’t mean they’re not capable of doing bad and cruel things.  It doesn’t mean that they are perfect, and it doesn’t mean that they haven’t hurt others.

I don’t know if Bill Cosby is guilty of what he’s being accused of.  Maybe he’s innocent.  I wanted to write about this because it is unsettling to me how ignorant some people are when it comes to sex crimes.  I know many people who have been victims of molestation and rape.  It’s not all black and white.  There are so many things that factor in when it comes to sexual assault and how individual people handle it.  More people need to be educated about this subject.

Ditched for bowling?

So I couldn’t help myself.  I literally laughed out loud after reading an entry in my diary from 1995, which would have made me fifteen years old at the time I wrote it:

“After fifth period, Vince asked me to ASB Ball. I was kinda happy, but nervous. Then at lunch Vince said that he remembered that he had plans, and that we couldn’t go… but said if I really wanted to go, then he could still take me. I told him no, if he had plans then to keep them. Kelly really wanted me to go too, so she was obviously mad and disappointed that I wasn’t going after all. Later, I found out that Vince made up that excuse because he was too nervous to go with me, and he hates dances. I was upset that he lied to me. If he was going to lie, he should have at least came up with a good lie, one that was convincing. Instead, he said that he had to go bowling. That is the most stupidest excuse I have ever heard in my life.”

LOL.  Ditched for bowling!  Glad I can laugh about it now!  I guess it helps that all these years later, Vince and I are good friends now.

Writing = frustrating

I’m up to my old tricks again.  Writing, re-writing, adding, and then writing more, and re-writing more and adding more.  How can something that is only 14 pages thus far seem like a damn novel?!   It feels like I’m running in place.  I want it to be right, and I want it to be genuine.  I’m not sure if I will ever get there.  Maybe this will never get done.  Sometimes I read stuff back and think, “Garbage!!!”  And sometimes I want to just wipe it all clean and try to think of a new story to tell.  But I’ve already put so much time and thought and energy into THIS story, so my brain won’t let me ditch it quite yet.

End of rant.